INFANT MASSAGE CLASS: “EARLY SIGNS”

Articles and blog posts on the early signs of SPD (sensory processing disorder, which I call sensory processing differences) and autism fill me with a mixture of recognition (yes, much is familiar), trepidation (at this point I’ve reached a certain level of saturation and also seen many stereotypes and errors), annoyance (ditto, plus the occasional offensive or condescending bits can set me back for days), and, sometimes, gratitude (after all, some of this stuff could be very helpful to parents – and most writers mean well!).

I usually find that I am holding my breath as I read, waiting for the triggers...yet I am compelled to read, always hoping to learn more about our neurodiverse world.

My son G was diagnosed with SPD at three, autism at eight. Being a bit spectrumesque myself, I would never have thought there was anything about him that needed to be evaluated (his evaluations were always at the behest of his teachers) but in retrospect a few things stand out.

My earliest memory of being aware of G’s possible difference from his “normal” peers occurred in an infant massage class. We mothers – this was in the East Village, in New York City, but yup, all mothers – were told to sit in a circle. I don’t remember precisely how old the babies were – early parenthood is kind of a blur – but they were all quite young, a few months old at most. We had pads and brought blankets and placed our babies on their backs on those blankets. We were given diagrams of massage strokes and instructed in proper technique for stroking and soothing our babies.

Infant massage was meant to be a bonding exercise. To stimulate our babies’ brains and help with their digestion! To make them happy! Healthy!

Except - my baby didn’t seem to be with the program. While all the other babies enjoyed a free and loving massage – yeah, try getting that a few decades down the line, babies! - my darling G was having none of it.

Figure I – Infant Massage Class. Not Shown: Ashamed Mother.

As soon as I tried to massage him, heck, as soon as I lay him down on his back, the screaming would start. Sure, there was the occasional peep from another baby, but nothing like G’s agonized cries. I actually tried three sessions before giving up in despair.

Clearly, I was missing some important mothering skills. I blamed myself, of course.

When G was a baby, I thought of myself as someone who accepted all people, someone who would never discriminate on the basis of ethnicity, gender, sexual orientation...Someone who accepted and loved people of all sorts. Yet I knew little to nothing about neurodiversity!

It would have been helpful to me as a new mother to have a positive concept of other kinds of difference, an idea of the incredibly wide ranges of neurology, physiology, psychology, sensitivity, sensory processing etc. that make up human beings. Obviously, this would not have led to shifting blame to my baby! It just would have made things make sense.

It would have helped to know that my baby needed deep pressure, not fluttery strokes that probably felt like torture to him. It might have been best to keep him partly or fully wrapped so that he could locate his body safely in space, instead of flailing around. He never liked being moved; there might have been better ways to transition him.

Instead, all I knew - in that context, with the limited knowledge I had – was that something seemed wrong. Since I myself had also always been “different,” this initially added to my disorientation and self-blame.

These moments keep coming, but now they come cushioned with fundamental commitments to diversity, acceptance, and hope.

When you and/or your child live(s) with an invisible, complex difference, explanations and strategies can be elusive and imprecise. I still sometimes don’t know whether my child needs help; and when he does need help I don’t always know how to help him. Sometimes I try to help him in unhelpful, unwanted or unnecessary ways, as do others. Other times we miss the boat and G is on his own with his challenges when some wisdom or support is sorely needed.

When G was screaming in the otherwise serene and harmonious infant massage space, I knew he was deeply uncomfortable, but I didn’t know that he had SPD, or that he was autistic, and that his sensitivities would benefit from a very different approach. Parents who recognize their children in “early signs” lists will I hope have important tools at their disposal, not least the knowledge that all parties concerned are doing their best – and that that is just fine. For the Full Spectrums, the labels that apply to us are mostly useful in that regard.

There’s still so much I don’t know, but I do know our differences are not our “fault.” I know that what is “wrong” is not us but a world that is primarily designed for the “average,” “normal” person – whoever that is.  

I know that I accept and celebrate G exactly as he is.  Same for me. And you. And you, and you, and you...:

This blog is a safe space for people to recognize a full spectrum of human being, and to explore how we might make the world a more welcoming place for all. Parents and caregivers who are searching for ways to understand, connect with, and support their children, individuals who are exploring their own differences, early-signers and adult-figure-outers, you are all welcome here.

Please visit the other sites below for more informative and inclusive posts.

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

An InLinkz Link-up

SCHOOL TESTING

Dear Persons,

This spring, I received the voluminous results of a huge barrage of testing for my son G’s three-year evaluation for his IEP (Individualized Education Plan). Among many, many, many other outcomes, I was informed that G had scored under the first percentile in “Irony.”

Although we have had him on a strict Monty Python/Austin Powers program for some time, and the kid has a fantastic sense of humor, we realize that perhaps he may well be lacking in “Irony.” Like many individuals who don’t fit the typical “norms” or test “average” in many areas,   G excels (sometimes extraordinarily) in some areas and is less skilled (sometimes remarkably so) in others.

In my experience, these sorts of test results – lower than expected, very uneven - are actually “normal” for many people on the autism spectrum, people with ADHD, people with sensory processing differences, people who are neurodivergent and/or disabled and/or differently-abled and/or quirky and/or don’t care about testing...

Just once, though, I’d like to receive some test results along the following lines:

Dear Dr. Full Spectrum Mama,

Here are our test results for your accepted-just-as-he-is child.

G scored in the 70^th percentile for “Telling Bad Jokes.” Although we found that his jokes were generally pretty lame, and noted, significantly, that he was almost always the only one laughing at said jokes, his score was slightly lower because he at times did in fact stop telling jokes, especially when asked to “stop repeating that joke which we have already heard seven times.” Still, this is a respectable “Telling Bad Jokes” score, and something he should feel good about.

We noted several areas of growth. G’s “Confidence in the Face of a Lot of Really Daunting Obstacles” outcome has improved by 50 percentage points – to the 88^th percentile - since he was last evaluated in his former school where he was getting bullied. Also improved were his ratings in “Zipping Pants” (up by 20, to 61^st percentile), “Blowing Nose Rather Than Just Letting Snot Drip Down” (up by 15, to 56^th), and “Overall Executive Function” (up by 3, to 4^th).

His “Amazing Metaphorical/Metaphysical Insights Not Necessarily Appreciated by Peers but Mind-Blowing for Adults” score remains very high (92^nd percentile), as corroborated by many of his teachers in the narrative portion of the evaluation; while the closely-related “Willingness to Write It Down According to Assignment, Dangit” score remains alarmingly low (5^th percentile).  

We would also like to raise some concerns around the fact that G’s “Remembering School Stuff” score of 8^th percentile does not seem to match his remarkable achievements in the areas of “Remembering How Many Days I Have Been Dating ___ “ (98^th percentile), or “Remembering the Tiniest Details About Every Pokemon, Ever” (99^th percentile) -  even with a 10 percent margin of error.

His IEP should reflect the need for accommodation in the former area, yet also take into account the possibility that G may have an asymmetrical range of priorities specific to his own...priorities.

Some of his strongest scores were in “Wonderfulness” (85^th percentile; this score was mitigated by “Teenage Rote Sullenness” [45^th]); “Interest in Girls” (98^th percentile; this test is administered according to self-reported sexual preference and controls for Trying-to-act-like-you-are-not-thinking-about-____-All.The.Time); and “Thinking About Pokemon” (90^th percentile; down nine points from previous score - possibly offset by “Interest in Girls”). “Knowing the Names of Pixies, David Bowie, Nirvana, and Red Hot Chili Peppers Songs,” at 65^th percentile, was also solidly above average. 

He should continue to build on these strengths.

Although he scored just above average in “Teenage Boy Flatulence” (58^th %ile), when measured against the general population G’s gassiness was easily in the top 10%.

Most importantly, for being unfailingly kind and polite (even thankful!) to our extensive testing staff, and for countless other reasons, G scored off the charts (above the 99^th %ile!) in “Being Himself.”

Congratulations,

The Testing People

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo!

An InLinkz Link-up

CONFERENCE I: THREES

If you’ve been following this blog at ALL, you know that Z is a superhero-genius, with a conservatively-estimated IQ of 923. All parents are soooo objective, but most especially parents of children who were adopted, because that latter event basically frees us up to brag in an unfettered way by virtue of not sharing genetics. Naturally, Z being the next Curie/Vos Savant/Sandberg, I was expecting a pre-tty fabulous report card this spring.

Alas.

She received threes, meaning “Meets grade level expectations,” across the board. Several pages of threes. Out of  **50** possible grades, only three were not threes! She got a two, or “making progress toward meeting grade level expectations,” in the area of “demonstrates self control.” The ONLY fours she received were both on reading speed, during timed tests.

Z’s teacher is one of the best in the state, so I knew these grades were more related to Z than a failing on her teacher’s part. Still, I hoped her teacher could help with ideas about improving both her work and her grades.

During our parent-teacher conference, Z’s very kind, very experienced, very gifted teacher admitted she’s not at all sure how to get her to do better. She told me that Z finishes everything ahead of all the other students. Then, rather than polishing her work or doing a little extra, she socializes, which, depending on who is next to her, can often be a problem for that neighboring student. She has been offered the opportunity to work on an optional special project of her own, like other gifted students in her class – something for which her teacher gives up her own limited free time --  but has opted not to do so. Rather than focusing on learning, Z’s focus is often on “side conversations.” Because she is quick, she manages to “meet grade level expectations” – but only in a perfunctory fashion.

It’s the same thing with her homework. She has reading homework every day for twenty minutes? She reads for twenty minutes. She is asked to write a sentence using a vocabulary word? She writes the shortest sentence possible. Not working hard feels so alien to me, the quintessential OVER-tryer, despite having been schooled on this subject by many brilliant friends who were underachievers in school…Something about “If everything is easy for you, why ever make an effort”??

There is also the possibility that I am/we are putting too much pressure on her, that we are having overly high expectations. Perhaps she’s not quite as exceptionally smart as I have always thought. Her teacher and I were obviously on the same page in feeling that Z is not even close to living up to her academic potential, but maybe we were basing our assessment of Z’s potential academic intelligence on her apparently immense emotional intelligence. Or maybe her approach to schoolwork is a survival thing, sort of a “do what you need to do to get by” scenario? Nonetheless, it’s evident that Z needs to up her game a bit; and that we adults need to somehow inculcate an attitude of pleasurable effort to replace the getting-away-with-the-minimum stance she’s exhibited thus far.

The parent-teacher conference was a few weeks ago. The other day, Z and I had mama-daughter time while G was in drama club and as we walked I lectured her extensively (yes! I am fun!) on doing her best, taking initiative, etc. After talking at her for some time, I realized what I was doing and asked her why she is only doing the minimum. She finally confessed she “just want[s] to get it finished!” She is proud to finish before the others in her class, and simply not will to do more, unless it is clearly required.

I asked her if she thinks she’s as smart as other kids in her class, and she said “smarter.” I explained to her that the kids who are really smart are the ones who are learning as much as they possibly can, adding that you can be the smartest person on the planet but if you don’t work hard no one will ever know – and you’ll accomplish little.

I turned at this point to a beloved longtime educator friend, who also happens to be the Dad of many sons, to see if he had any suggestions. He offered the idea of giving Z extra projects. In his family, African history was the subject of choice. I decided to have Z study Chinese history. I had her get all her Chinese history and culture books together. I asked her to begin reading a chapter of the top book in the pile that afternoon. Afterwards, she would be expected to write a report.

I was doing the dishes -- with dinner on the stove – when, a few minutes later, she called out: “Hey, Mom…does this count as doing my reading homework?”

“Sure!” Scrub, scrub scrub...wait a minute! “…NO!!!! Come on, [Z], that’s my WHOLE POINT!”

I don’t have enough brain-space for this malarkey. Available doing-dishes brain-space is utilized pondering the truly important things, such as: do we actually have more nose hair as we get older? If so, is that why boogers seem to hang down in there more? And if both of these are true, is that FAIR? (My vote? No.)

But back to the matter at hand: after this interaction I logically must conclude that Z is a genius after all.

Next: CONFERENCE II: FOURS AND TWOS

Love,

Full Spectrum Mama