It's been a smooth ride here lately for us. Ever since Jacob started his anxiety medicine, the roller coaster ride we had gotten used to has leveled off. Don't get me wrong. Although leveled off, we have still been racing forward at top speed as there is never a dull moment with Jacob around. Until his head hits his pillow at the end of the night, we are always in over-drive.
And so this weekend caught me a little by surprise.
Jacob had been invited to a birthday party of a fellow baseball teammate who is also in his new class at school. Jacob doesn't get invited to a lot of parties, and when he does, he is super excited to the point it is hard to bring him back down.
Before the invite had even arrived, the mom of the birthday boy had inquired as to how Jacob would do with a roller skating party. Knowing my son, I knew this wasn't his thing. Something new. Something where he would feel completely out of control. So it came as no surprise when I asked Jacob weeks ago about the party, he said "absolutely not!". I left it at that, and told the mom that more than likely Jacob would not be attending.
How surprised was I when a few days later Jacob tells me he is going to the party. Turns out, my husband knew just the right spin to put on the party to make it appealing. Plenty of music, arcades, and snacks were enough to turn his "absolutely not" around. And of course a promise of helping him skate.
I had figured his excitement would waver in the weeks to come, or he would completely change his mind. But Jacob remained steadfast looking forward to his first time ever to skate. Saturday came, the day of the party, and Jacob was more than ready. His dad was taking him, so I anxiously waited for them to return to hear how it had gone.
As the time for the party to end arrived, I braced myself for the whirlwind that could come storming through the front door more powerful than a tornado. If the party had proven too much for Jacob, the tone was set for the remainder of the day with little hope of recovery.
Yet in he walked with no real fanfare. When I asked about the party, he told me with a huge grin on his face that it had been "super fun" and he couldn't wait to go skating again. "Please, mommy, can we go skating again?" he begged. "Sure! You get to do it next week in gym class," I told him.
Jacob was ecstatic to hear that, and I was relieved knowing that for the next few weeks skating in gym class would be welcomed by him and not a challenge to get him to school in the morning on those days.
He went on to tell me how great of a skater he was. In fact, he was so good he didn't fall once! "Wow!", I thought, "Maybe skating was his thing." He was so good, he even danced while skating he told me.
My husband hadn't entered the house yet, so I went outside to find him and get his version of the party. His was slightly different. Jacob had done awesome and of course he was incredibly proud of him, but when I mentioned about Jacob not falling, my husband just laughed. "Yeah...that didn't happen."
Turns out Jacob fell about 50 times, dashing my plans of him becoming an Olympic speed skater. He told me how Jacob had fallen hard in the middle of the rink and began crying loudly. I could envision the scene, Jacob laid out flat on his back screaming out in pain, while my husband stood over him and people skated around looking over their shoulders wondering if Jacob was indeed hurt.
"So what did you do?" I asked him knowing all too well how Jacob responds in that state. He has to be handled carefully so it doesn't blow up into something much bigger.
"I told him to get up or someone would skate over his fingers!" my husband told me. Sure enough it worked and Jacob got right up. I loved it!
So that was the good. And yes, I couldn't have been more proud of my son for willingly trying something new. A year ago I guarantee he wouldn't have even walked in the building. And if he wants to think of himself as the best skater ever, so be it.
Now for the bad...
Unfortunately Jacob had little time after returning home from the party before he had to get ready for his baseball game.
I almost didn't go to the game as I was supposed to work and wasn't sure if I could find anyone to cover my shift. But I knew the importance of being there. Not only to support Jacob, but being there "just in case". This year baseball had gone fairly smooth for Jacob, but you never know if something could set him off, and I needed to be there "just in case".
I arrived at the game a little late, loaded down with two folding chairs, an umbrella for the sun, a bag full of snacks, drinks in hand, and my other hand grasping the baby's girls fingers slowly guiding her to the field. Before I had even set my stuff on the ground, Jacob was right there invading my personal space. "I'm on the bench!" he happily announced. "hmmm... that's never a good sign," I thought.
Immediately I got a sense of Jacob's mood. He was soaring pretty high, the excitement from the skating party still with him. He was bouncing around in nonstop motion. And he wasn't listening. As I tried to arrange our chairs, and make pleasant conversation with the other moms, Jacob was right there in the middle of it all. " I want popcorn!" "I want something to drink!" "I want candy!" as he wildly dug through my bag of snacks.
"Jacob, you need to be in the dugout with your teammates," I told him. He grabbed a handful of popcorn and went in the dugout. But only for a minute. Sure enough he was right back, demanding more food, grabbing and digging, bugging his sister, in my face. He was just all over the place.
"Jacob, enough!" I told him. "Get in the dugout and you can have a snack after the game."
Back and forth he went, not listening to me, not paying attention to the game going on right in front of him, oblivious to the calls from his dad to find his glove, bat, or helmet. He was definitely not in baseball mode.
And then it was time for him to get on the field. My gut was telling me that things were not going to go well, and I told my friend next to me that I had a feeling I would be taking Jacob home. Jacob slowly sauntered out behind home plate, with catcher's gear from top to bottom. Jacob loves playing catcher. Well...normally.
His demeanor was saying differently. It was as if he was moving in slow motion. First he refused to hunch down, and insisted on standing. Then when his dad got on him to do it correctly, he ever so slowly moved to the correct position.
The first pitch came and Jacob barely flinched. Usually he is a pretty good little catcher, at least giving an effort to catch the ball. But this was as if you couldn't even tell there was a ball headed right towards him.
Another pitch came, and with this one Jacob did move, again ever so slowly, but instead of trying to catch the ball, he splayed himself out flat on his stomach covering home plate. And he just laid there. The umpire looked over at my husband to see what was going on and why this catcher kept holding up the game. My husband yelled at Jacob to get up. I did as well, trying to encourage him.n
"Please, Jacob, please," I thought to myself. "Just get up. Not here. Not now. Please."
He got up, again moving at the pace of a snail. If he got the ball, he barely lobbed it back, the ball only going a few feet. Pitches zoomed right by him. He refused to hold up his glove. At this point it was obvious to everyone that something was up, and the rest of the crowd started yelling words of encouragement as well. But knowing my son like I do, I knew this would just add fuel to the fire. Sure enough, he turned and said, "Come on! Oh my gosh!" toward his dad in the dugout. He was annoyed.
My husband who was sitting in the dugout doorway just a few feet away whispered to me that he wanted me to take Jacob home. I replied that I was already planning on it. So while the inning continued with Jacob's not even half hearted attempts at playing baseball, I packed up all my stuff preparing myself for what could be a major blowout.
We've been down this road many times. Jacob making a scene in public, having a meltdown with everyone staring. It's not fun, for sure. I hate it. I hate that my son feels so out of control. I hate that events that should be fun instantly turn into a fight with an audience to boot.
And so as the inning came to an end, my husband and I knowingly looked at each other as if asking, "Are you ready for this?". We were. But then again, we had no other choice.
The Could Have Been Uglier
It's a whole different story when your three year old is having a fit. People look at you sympathetically as if saying "Oh, I've been there". But when your child is seven and looks closer to ten, and he is having a meltdown, people just stare. I don't blame them. But it doesn't make it easier.
We've had ugly scenes in the past. Jacob kicking and screaming as one of us carries him out of whatever public event we happen to be attending. Times where Jacob has just hit us repeatedly. Times where I felt like I could barely hold on to his flailing body, but knowing I had no other choice for his own safety. Times where I want nothing more than the meltdown to end, for people to stop staring. Times where I wish people just knew. This is Aspergers. This is NOT my son.
My son is loving. He's thoughtful. He's first in line if I suggest cuddling. He's a happy kid. He is not the crazed looking child out of control hitting his mom while screaming at the top of his lungs. That's not my Jacob. That's Aspergers. Not him.
And so as we were stuck back in the middle of the ball complex on field #4, there was no time to wonder how it would play out. As Jacob made his way into the dugout, my husband pulled him aside and kindly told him the news that he would be going home for the remainder of the game. We both reassured him calmly that he was not in trouble. He just needed a break.
Of course we knew it wouldn't be well received, and Jacob instantly was angry and began to yell. But thankfully neither my husband nor I got sucked into it. We both remained calm, and my husband started gently guiding Jacob around the back of the outfield to avoid the crowd of people.
Oh, we still were a scene. I'm sure everyone could hear Jacob's persistent crying and screaming. With no reaction from either of us, we continued our journey toward our van with the baby girl tagging along behind.
"My team needs me!" Jacob kept insisting. "I promise I will listen!" "I don't want to leave!"
I tried reassuring him that even the best major leaguer needs a day to rest. To which he quickly reminded me they at least get to sit in the dugout!
On and on he went. But both my husband and I knew it was the best thing to get him out of there and just somewhere quiet where he could decompress. The day had been too much for him. It wasn't his fault.
With Jacob securely buckled in his seat behind me, I began driving home. It had gone pretty smooth, at least compared to past meltdowns. We've come along way, my husband and I. We've learned that reacting only makes things worse. Getting sucked in to Jacob's anger, only makes things worse. A year ago that scene would have played out much uglier.
Today's score.
Home Team: 1
Aspergers: 0
No comments:
Post a Comment