Are we playing yet?

Sometimes therapy gets confusing especially, it seems, when it involved younger children and if there's one thing I'm learning in this journey it's that our "big boy" qualifies as a young child.

Which is a mixed bag with autism. On one hand, there seems to be this wall of disbelief that I have to deconstruct when dealing with many of the initial agencies I was told to contact, unbelieving that our son could possibly have a diagnosis just months after his 2nd birthday. This has been extremely disheartening given the overwhelming support and awareness towards early diagnosis and intervention. On the other hand, the support we have found, including some really incredible CDAs (communicative disorder assistants) and OTs (Occupational therapists) who work exceptionally hard to introduce strategies that can be fun and productive for our son and we're starting to see a difference.

J is becoming more vocal in his babbling and has added almost half a dozen words to his vocabulary (doubling it depending on who you ask), he understands more, and we're seeing improvements in our life skills throughout the day.

The hard part for me is finding the balance. Even though the strategies are set within the context of play, there are days when both J and I are fully aware that what we are working on isn't a game or even necessarily fun, it's work and it's hard, frustrating, and possibly the last thing on earth either one of us wants to be doing but it needs done.

When therapy and play share a fuzzy boundary though over analysis kicks in: have we played enough today, has it all be strategies, did we have fun, have we practiced fine motor today/this week, am I rushing too much for strategies?  

The list goes on because the boundaries are close, this road is new, and everyone involved is human.

It's hard because the mom in me wants him to succeed - learning and growing as himself  and in our family. The tired human wants progress - less behaviours, more communication and less frustration.

We don't like to see our children suffer if there's something we can do -therapy is something we do and it's good, it works, and it can change lives given time and effort.

sometimes we need that balance, the need to push guilt away and recognize the value if just being, without fearing schedules, timelines, and aging out of assistance too soon.

Even though it's not mentioned on assessments, intakes, or forms it's still important, at the end of the day, not to measure how many minutes were spent practicing scissors (although we are desperately behind on that) but does J feel loved today.

Sometimes playtime needs to be playtime and maybe this Mama can benefit from that too.

Dear CDA

Dear CDA's

You are the most recent part of the alphabet we've met since travelling in our new reality and I feel like I owe you an apology.

I never like to be one who overstays my welcome (honest, my anxiety issues actually have me understay my welcome unless I really trust you) but last week I found myself staying for well over an hour at the drop-in while you played with my oldest.

I realize that the two families after us had cancelled. Instead of dealing with us you could have been chatting, catching up on backlogged work, or maybe even sneaking in some Facebook because, hey, we're all human.

But, you took the time.

You let this weary Mama sit for an hour and play with my baby. You let me prattle on aimlessly about my sons. You let me talk about things we've tried, things we've learned, and things we're stilling grasping to find solutions for. You let me watch while you "reinforced strategies."
The most important thing, though, you made my son the center of your world for an hour, you played with him so enthusiastically that he absolutely cackled with laughter for the first time in that office. You made him smile as he worked on skills well we got to relax as a family and not stress where the line is drawn between therapy and play. You let my little boy be a little boy while I was allowed the gift of watching, knowing you were just as familiar and comfortable with any behaviours as we could be.

For an hour you gave us the gift of a reprieve, a chance to be a family in the whirlwind, eating pizza and laughing about nothing and everything.

Thank you,

The littlest things make the biggest impact

I was told once, mid-way through my pregnancy, that it would be the little moments, the little things, which would steal my heart and take my breath away.

At the time, it didn't register. After all, the only thing taking my breath away was a little body rearranging my organs and causing heartburn.

Then my son arrived.

I don't remember many big things this year to be honest, at least, not big things in the scope of the world. But, for now, they are my world.

They are the giggles in the morning.

The first wobbly steps while reaching for his mama.

They are the look of wonder no matter how many times the ball is rolled across the floor.

They are the gratitude after a foot rub.

They are a mama's amazement as she rocks and watches little eyelids flutter at 2am.

They are the connection of someone saying hello.

They are the tears of relief when someone says "let me help"

So many little wonders and one begins to wonder how they ever became so blessed.