Our Ordinary Days

Test

Zachary has an anxiety disorder.  He worries a lot.  He is in a constant state of stress.

One of his anxieties is school.  Namely, failing school.  Last year he was always afraid of failing 2nd grade.  This year he is terrified of failing 3rd grade.

While all of his grades are currently passing, there is a big test that looms over the heads of all students in Texas' public schools.  The TAKS test.  3rd graders are required to pass TAKS, or they are retained in 3rd grade.  And Zach is scared of it.

The TAKS test doesn't take place until March or April, but today the students are taking a practice test.  As should be the case, this practice test is taken quite seriously.  It gives teachers, students, parents, and administration a good idea of where the students are in learning the required content.

I know that a speech from the teacher to reiterate the importance of the tests is sometimes in order for a class filled with clowns or goof-offs.  I know that since the test is of utmost importance to the teacher, the school, and the district, they feel the need to remind the students that their lives depend on their passing TAKS.

But I also know that a child like Zachary-- who is already miserably dreading TAKS, who is already convinced that he is going to fail, who already takes the test very seriously as if his life did literally depend on it--  does not need a reminder of its importance.  And in fact, a reminder of its importance may have quite a negative effect on the results of his test taking.

Zachary came home from school yesterday and announced, "Tomorrow is the day I find out if I failed 3rd grade."

Wow!  How's that for pressure??

How frustrating to be trying so hard at home to get Zach's anxieties under control only to be thrown this huge wrench of anxiety from school.  Ugh!

Remembering that today's test is actually just a practice test, I tried to convince him that this wasn't THE test.  But he wouldn't be convinced.  But thankfully he didn't mention the test much more before bed.

But then at 1:00AM, he came running to my room, crying.  "I'm going to fail 3rd grade!  I don't want to fail 3rd grade!"

I, of course, told him he wasn't going to fail . . . that we don't have to worry about that because he's going to do his best . . . that he is not going to fail 3rd grade.

He quieted down and got into bed with me.  We snuggled up close and tight just like he likes.  His little body fidgeted, writhed, and jerked as it so often does when he tries to go to sleep -- his anxious little body fighting him while he tries to relax.  Every few moments his sleepy, sad voice would say that he was going to fail.  I realized that his anxieties were speaking loud and clear in his little mind, convincing him that he would, indeed, fail.

It was then that I got the idea of whispering to him a different phrase, hoping it would drown out the whispers that were haunting him.  I wasn't sure how he would respond to my whispering.  I thought maybe he would tell me to stop and get frustrated.  But as I watched his little body jerk nervously and listened to his whimpers, I decided to take the chance.

While we cuddled, I placed my hand on his face -- a tactic which has had a calming effect on him since he was an infant -- and got my lips up close to his ear.

"You are smart and you will pass," I whispered so gently.  "You are smart and you will pass.  You are smart and you will pass," I repeated.

He did not tell me to stop.  And after a minute or so, his writhing slowed and his body relaxed just a bit.  My words were working.

"You are smart and you will pass," I repeated with each breath.  And I prayed as I spoke that my words would penetrate his mind and heart until he believed it.

For 10 minutes or more, I whispered the sentence in his ear.  When he got a little fidgety, I thought maybe he had heard enough so I stopped speaking.

But he immediately whispered sleepily, "Do more of that."

So I continued for quite a while, even after his body had relaxed into sleep.  While he snored, I whispered, "You are smart and you will pass.  You are smart and you will pass.  You are smart and you will pass."

He woke again later in the night and whimpered a little bit.  Then he snuggled up close and requested, "Do more of that."  So I whispered again, "You are smart and you will pass.  You are smart and you will pass."

This morning he didn't want to go to school.  "I'm going to fail 3rd grade today," he said.

But big brother came to the rescue!  Elliot was able to convince him that today's test was not the real thing so Zach went off to school feeling okay.

I pray like crazy that he passes today's test!

And I pray that as he sat in the quiet classroom taking his test today, that Zachary heard my whispered words in his ear:  "You are smart and you will pass.  You are smart and you will pass."

Can't Do It . . .

I cannot comfort him when he's in a fit, upset by something that he imagined. 

I cannot calm him when he's in a rage, screaming and out of control. 

I cannot reason with him when he's screaming and repeating the same insult or accusation. 

I cannot convince him that what he's saying didn't happen, that it's not true. 

I want to comfort him.  I want to calm him.  I want to reason with him.  I want to convince him. 

I long to be his comfort.  I ache to be his calming voice.  I so desire to bring him back to reasoning.  I am desperate to be convincing to him. 

 But I've learned that I must wait. 

When he's lost in his out-of-control fit of emotion, his scream is angry and unstopping.  There is no reasoning ability in him at that moment.  When he's lost in that terrible moment, I cannot talk to him or touch him or even glance his direction.  Those actions from me only fuel his anger and push him farther from me and farther from my comfort and my reason.  

When he's lost in that terrible moment, there is nothing for me to do but wait. 

I must wait for his screaming to pause.  I must wait on his cry to change.  I must wait for his sad eyes to appear where the lost and angry eyes had been. 

It is in that moment of change -- from angry to sad, from lost to begging for my help -- that I can step in and help him.  I eagerly step in to help.  I call him to me and hold him.  I hold him tight!  The tightness of my grip helps to calm him.  I am amazed again at how immediately his cry ceases.  He lies limp and defeated and helpless in my arms.  My firm hug helps to drive home the truth of my love and my acceptance of him.  My silence convinces him and brings him back into reality. 

And it's over. 

He just starts chattering about something unrelated.  He talks about something trivial and unemotional. After a few minutes, he is up and running. 

He's up and running because he feels loved and safe.  He knows he has just returned to his harbor of love and peace and acceptance.  And his running is joyful and celebratory.

Our Halloween

I have been participating the last couple of Mondays in Not Me! Monday with MckMama and other bloggers.  I'm assuming Not Me! Monday will not happen today because MckMama's baby is in the hospital and is not doing very well.  Please join me in praying for Baby Stellan today!  Thanks! 

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Saturday proved to be a very busy Halloween.  We had Zippy's last football game, our church's family picnic, a nearby church's Fall Festival, and then a little trick-or-treating in our neighborhood. 

Here are the highlights: 

ELLIOT: 

Elliot (10) dressed up as a soldier.  He was camouflage from head to toe.

   

At the Fall Festival, his favorite activity was the big-ol-bolster-fight deal.  (I obviously have no idea what it's called, but the jest is that you knock your opponent off their post by bonking them with huge puffy sticks!)

   

 He enjoyed all the booths and getting candy! 

While we were sitting enjoying some free food there, a man announced that they needed some volunteers to work a few of the game booths.  Elliot piped up immediately, wondering if he could volunteer.  Ten years old and not a member of the church?  Who knows.  So I sent him up to ask the man. The man thought it was just fine so off Elliot went with the other volunteers.  He was proud and excited as he went off to work.  But he came back a few minutes later and reported that they didn't need him after all.  Bummer.  But I was so proud of him for being so eager to help! 

Later, while we trick-or-treated, I was surprised that Elliot was very embarrassed and nervous that he might run into one of his 5th grade friends.  He was convinced that they would think his costume was babyish.  Camo babyish??  Oh, me.  It's times like these that the "tweens" baffle me! 

CHLOE: 

Chloe (7) dressed up as a ladybug.  She was the cutest ladybug this mama has ever seen!  She was quite proud of the costume and especially loved the wings! 

At our church picnic, she refused to use her walker.  When she fell repeatedly, she got very frustrated and threw a little silent fit:  Sit down and stomp, stomp, stomp!  Stomp with one foot!  Stomp with two feet!  Stand up, hold on to Mom for support and kick, kick, kick the air!  Hold on to Mom and jump!  Jump!  Sit back down and stomp some more!!  Poor baby!  Once over the frustration of falling, she and Dad hung out on the church porch while Chloe opened and closed the door for an hour and a half.  Not quite healthy play, but sometimes it works!

   

At the Fall Festival, Chloe and Dad hung out in the petting zoo the whole time!!  Again, she had a little love affair with the animals there.  She hugged on rabbits and baby pigs.  The girl running the petting zoo remembered Chloe from last year's festival and remembered that that's where she stayed the whole time! 

 

Paul said that when there was a line of kiddos waiting to come in, the girl in charge would make some of the little kids get out so others could come in.  But she never made Chloe leave!  I think Chloe was the teacher's pet for sure!  (Paul did make Chloe leave and get back in line a few times to avoid completely taking advantage!)

   

By the time trick-or-treating came along, Chloe was quite tired so she stayed in her wheelchair.  She went up to the porches and even a few times joined in on the "Trick or Treat!" part. 

ZIPPY: 

Zippy (8) decided his Power Ranger costume was too itchy and didn't want to dress up as anything.  I made him slip on a jersey with his shorts so he could at least be an itchless basketball player.  After a small fit, he obliged and was happy as a bball player.

   

At the church picnic, Zippy jumped and jumped and jumped in the bounce house.  He did take a short break for the limbo contest and a hotdog, but the rest of the time he bounced. 

At the Fall Festival, Zippy jumped and jumped and jumped in the bounce house.  He did take a short break to play a couple of games (as long as they had NO LINES) and eat some food, but the rest of the time he bounced.  Deja vu!

   

Several booths offered him candy with peanuts which made him nervous and a little bit freaky.  He has an anaphylactic allergy to peanuts, and it is one of his greatest anxieties.

   

Check out Zippy's dinner!  He was so pleased with this meal!!  Happy, happy boy! Zach mostly had a good time trick-or-treating.  We roamed around with some new neighbor friends.  They have a little 4-year-old boy who Zach really enjoyed.

   

But again several houses had candy with peanuts which kept Zippy on edge the whole time.  At one house, the man plopped some candy in Zach's bag before he could explain his allergy; as it fell into his bag, Zach noticed they were Snickers.  He dropped to the ground and started frantically digging in the bag to get the peanuts OUT.  I assured him that when we got home I would check all of his candy just like I always do, and we would throw away any nuts.

   

We continued on past a couple of houses where the lights were off and turned a corner where we met up with a large and noisy crowd.  It was then that Zachary had a full-blown panic attack that I was afraid was going to end up being an asthma attack.  He froze, he started panicking and breathing heavy.  It took me a minute to get him to look at me and talk to me.  When he did, he just started crying and saying, "I don't want to eat peanuts!  I don't want to eat peanuts!  I don't want to eat peanuts!"  

I waved Paul and the others on while I grabbed Zach and got him away from the crowd.  When he had calmed down and his breathing had returned to normal, the two of us went on home to throw away all the peanuts. . . .  Poor baby!

A Brother ' s Advice

Last night Zippy's football practice was moved inside since the fields outside were flooded.  The team practiced in the church's "gym," which was carpeted and had completely different acoustics than a real gym. I had tried to picture Zippy practicing football in a real gym and was not excited!  If there is anything worse than the confusing yelling and whistle blowing of the football field, it's yelling and whistle-blowing in the acoustical nightmare of a gym.  Suffice it to say that a gym is not a place where Zach is at his best. This carpeted "gym" was awesome, and Zach did great!  It was easier to listen and to hear in this gym compared to the field which is up on a hill (where it's always windy) and right next to the highway.  I was amazed at how much more attentive and involved and "with it" he was inside the "gym."  ( I guess I should not put the word in quotes . . .  if the church calls it a gym, then I should just call it a gym. . . .) Anyway, the whole practice, the coach repeated and repeated and repeated and repeated, "Zachary, keep your feet still!" and, "Zachary, don't move your feet!" when they would line up for a play.  Each and every play, we all heard about Zach's feet. After practice, I told Zippy how well he'd done at practice.  Elliot had to chime in since he thinks he's Zippy's other Mama.  He added, "Yeah, but what you really need to work on is keeping your feet still.  The coach had to keep telling you to keep your feet still.  You really need to do that, Zach!" Zippy, only a little bothered replied, "Well, I don't do that.  My feet don't stay still.  They move." End of discussion. Oh, me!  ADHD feet don't always cooperate on the ball field, do they?

Flag Puller!!

(It's my blog, and I can brag if I want to, right??!!) Zippy was HOT on the football field today!  He pulled more flags than any other player!!  Yippee! And he LOVED to hear me yell for him from the sidelines.  I haven't been cheering very much in the other games because I've been sitting with Chloe.  Chloe is NOT a fan of the yelling and freaks out if I yell or cheer or clap.  But today Paul was out of town and the aunts and uncles were otherwise occupied and couldn't come to his game.  That left me and only me to cheer for him.  So I cheered and yelled and whooped and clapped!  Each time, he stopped and made eye contact with me and grinned at my cheering for him! Offense is still VERY complicated for him.  The biggest (glaring!!!) episode today was this:  Zippy hiked the ball to the quarterback and then stood straight up and put his wristband with the plays on it right up to the end of his nose trying to figure out what he was supposed to do next.  He was still and silent, studying the play . . . . right in the middle of action and passing and running and screaming and catching and flag-pulling and whistle-blowing.  Then the play was over, and Zippy still stood like a statue, trying to make sense of that play until his teammates and coach finally called him out of his trance to come and join the huddle for the next play!  I admit I laughed at that one.  He is so cute and tries SO hard!! Go #19!!