Change, squared.

NHBPM Day 22: “Write about change.

I’m going to go into something a little more personal today, while talking about change…and I’m going to talk about my 5 year old twin boys.

I’m going to talk about how, over the course of the past year and a half, my sons have been assessed professionally by our children’s hospital as having “Moderate to severe language and comprehension delays indicated.”

Ordinarily, it might just sound like the boys have some kind of a lisp, or that they’re doing that “twin-speak” thing.

First off, let me tell you…no matter WHAT I’ve read that indicates that “twin-speak” is merely a myth and has no scientific validity in any clinical testings…I’m calling bullshit.  They are the youngest of my FIVE children, and I can sure-as-shit tell you, they do that “twin-speak” thing.  At least, they have…not any more.  And yes, it may have had a small impact on what they’re currently experiencing.

Couple this language delay with comprehension delay.

But it’s not just comprehension delay.  We’re talking OCD tendencies and lags.  Lagging coping skills have been the biggest challenge because of the direct correlation between them not being able to be understood, at times, by those around them AND not having the ability to process and find a mechanism by which they could properly express themselves.

Fan-freakin’-tastic.

Now add in: CHANGE.

My littlest dude, Thing 2, has been in peak melt-down mode today.  (O.O)  So much so that I even cracked out the Belgian Chocolate coffee grounds.

He was trying to tell me something rather emphatically (we have to also look for physical cues and facial expressions).  I, therefore, extrapolated that to mean that what he had to say was pretty important.

He was trying to tell me about something his teacher had said.  I understood that he was talking about a shirt…but….that was it.

Thing 1 tried to ask him.

Hannah tried to ask him.

My little guy could do no more than stomp his foot and  hang his head and start to cry.

Having sent a text to my dear friend whose son is in the same class, she was able to ascertain that tomorrow was “Anti-Bullying Day”…and therefore, the children are to wear a pink shirt.

The word he couldn’t say was, “rose.” (“pink”, in French)

Now, in a house with four boys and one diva daughter, a plain-ish pink shirt is either non-existent, or so full of sparkles you’d be picking them out of your nooks and crannies for a week.  Ask my washing machine.

But.  For a child with a moderate to severe comprehension delay coupled with a high-functioning sense for order and routine…the thought of NOT having a pink shirt to wear for Anti-Bullying Day was too much for my little dude.

I told him there were only two choices: I was going to look at the local store while I was out (getting antihistamine eye drops before I drive a screwdriver into each of my itching, burning, sneeze-triggering ocular orbs) for a plain pink t-shirt for the boys and if they did not have a pink t-shirt, they were going to wear red.

Period.

It’s hard to be harsh.  But boundaries and limits must be set in order to contain the chaos within their poor lagging neural networks.

My boys are going to struggle with any kind of change (this example being one of change from the ordinary routine of picking whatever clothes they wanted to wear).  What we’re working on currently is trying to alleviate the severity of their reactions to change while desperately looking for triggers and correlating techniques that will enable them to cope and manage themselves.

I found my boys their pink t-shirts to wear for Anti-Bullying Day tomorrow.

 

I can only hope, as any mother would, that they themselves will not fall prey to the meanness of their peers when they struggle to make themselves heard and understood.

 

(“No more bullies!”…Logan [Thing1] and Ethan [Thing 2])

Pink Star Wars t-shirts.

I freakin’ ROCK. 😉

 

This post was written for Wego Health’s National Blog Post Month, 2012.

 

 

(top image: incedogroup.com)

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