Spectrummy Mummy

Asperger's, Allergies, and Adventures Abroad

Posts Tagged ‘vestibular

Spectrummy Daddy

with 8 comments

Today is my wonderful husband’s birthday.  I could write about how every day he demonstrates the strength of unconditional love, but I can show you instead.  And I’ll show you how he never stops trying to connect with our girl, even when it is hard going.  I’d tell you that the world is a better place for every day he is on the planet, but you can see that for yourself.  Read on for the first guest post he wrote, and please join me in wishing him a very happy birthday.

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Hello, everyone.  Spectrummy Mummy asked me if I would like to do a guest blog, and I reluctantly agreed.  I’m kidding, I jumped at the chance.  Please don’t go visit another blog, I promise Spectrummy Mummy will return tomorrow.

When she asked me what I was going to blog, I had to think about it for a bit.  Do I talk about one of the greatest days of my life, when I became a father?  (And the German nurse in the delivery room that still makes us laugh.  Great story.  Really.)  Or, do I talk about how I cried when my pudding said “I love you Daddy” after she was diagnosed, because I was afraid she’d lose the ability to say it later on?  I wasn’t as well informed then as I am now.  She still says I love you daddy.  And then I realized what I wanted to talk about.

A daddy’s link to his little girl is always strong.  Usually there is something that is special between the two of them.  Ours was actually two things: weekend breakfasts and ice cream.  I come from a southern family that likes to eat.  We can all cook, and we like to eat good food.  Our love of ice cream and breakfast, particularly American biscuits, is passed down from generations like a good family history.  Proving that she was my daughter, pudding took to both of these items with zeal.  Every weekend I would ask pudding “What do you want for breakfast?”  She would always reply, “Biscuits and honey.  Bees make honey.”  I would smile, and make buttermilk biscuits for her.  We’d smile at each other, and I’d get a kiss from her with a thank you.  When we were out, if she was good, she was always promised ice cream.  It was always a treat from daddy for her.  “Pudding, what kind of ice cream do you want?”  “Strawberry with sprinkles” was the inevitable reply.  It was the pink ice cream, you see.  It was Pudding and daddy’s special thing, and something we bonded over.

When Pudding kept waking in the middle of the night screaming, we knew there was a problem.  When we took her to Dr. P, she suggested that perhaps we should take her to an allergist, just to rule that out as a cause.  When we received the results, my heart sank.  There it was: milk, oats, wheat, and all the others.  There’s your ice cream and your biscuits gone.  There was weekend breakfasts, ice cream treats, and the bonding I had with my little girl.  How was I going to connect to her now?  It was like starting over again 3 years later.

However, Spectrummy Mummy came to my aid when she caught me crying.  (That is also passed down in my family from generation to generation.)  With the wisdom of Solomon and the looks of a young Grace Kelly, she explained that this could be viewed as a good thing.  While we had previously connected by eating, a potentially unhealthy and dangerous activity if overindulged, we could now find something else to connect with.  So, three years after I first became a dad, I started over with my daughter.

Now, we swim together, and she does dog-pile on daddy.  When I get home, she asks to be put on daddy’s shoulders.  We have a variety of things we do to help with her vestibular issues.  Things like whip-saw where I throw her over my shoulders and spin around.   And, I am proud to say, she can point at my t-shirt with the Justice League of America on it and correctly point out Green Lantern, Batman, Aquaman and Superman.  She also likes playing with the DVD player (to my consternation) and with mummy’s iPod, just like her daddy.  Maybe one day she’ll be able to eat ice cream and biscuits again.  Right now, I’ll settle for fruit sorbet and gluten-free pancakes and hearing my daughter laugh when I tickle her, and holding her tight when she asks for a squeeze.

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Written by Spectrummy Mummy

March 10, 2011 at 6:36 am

Short and Curlies

with 12 comments

Yesterday afternoon the area we live in was on Tornado Watch.  I thought that was very dramatic, having never lived in a tornado-prone area before, so I canceled Pudding’s speech therapy session and called her school to find out what would happen.  It turns out that a watch is really nothing at all, unlike a Tornado Warning.  Still, it was nice not to have to drive on the highway in the pouring rain.  The downside, of course, was that both kids were stuck inside all afternoon.

I have a cold (who says my kids are bad at sharing?) so my good humour soon evaporated.  The kids took advantage of my weakened state in the way that only a preschooler and toddler can.  By the time my husband returned from work, our home did indeed look like an indoor tornado had hit.  I met him at the door, grim-faced.  I let him know that had he not already taken measures to ensure no more children, I’d have done the job there and then.

Now I wonder if Pudding heard me.

For Christmas, my parents bought the kids an indoor swing and trapeze bar that mounts in the doorway.  It is a great way to get some extra vestibular input, and we’ve used it every day.  The trapeze bar actually takes both parents to assist at the moment, she just isn’t strong or secure enough to do it alone.  Daddy lifts her up over the bar, and I hold her legs as she swings.  That is the theory, anyway.  What usually happens, is that Pudding continues holding onto Daddy until she feels secure.

Last night, she grabbed onto Daddy in a very wrong place, and wouldn’t let go.  I was already holding her legs, and couldn’t let go without her dropping to the ground, taking whatever was in her hands with her.  He tried to get her to release, but this only caused her to hold on tighter.  In falsetto, he begged her to let go.  I did the most helpful thing I could in the situation- giggle mercilessly.  Eventually he managed to extract himself from her grasp, some time later I stopped laughing.

I love my family, they’ll go to any lengths to put a smile on my face after a trying day.

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Today my post “Discord and Harmony” will be featured at The SPD Blogger Network.  Please head over there to check out this amazing site.  If you or a loved one are living with Sensory Processing Disorder, read about others similarly affected, or share your own story.  You don’t need to be a blogger to be part of this supportive community.

 

Written by Spectrummy Mummy

March 1, 2011 at 7:04 am