Independence

Independence seems to be the theme this year. Max has made so much progress lately. He has settled. Matured. He's suddenly doing some really exciting things all by himself!

And the flip side of that is that I am becoming more independent, too. We are tied together in so many ways, for so many pieces of daily life. There is a sense of freedom when I am no longer required for something. And I know that's a feeling that goes both ways.

Sometimes his new independence creates more work or mess or worry for me. That's a truth for any child, but perhaps more literally so with Max.

For example, the other day he entered the kitchen where my husband was making dinner and asked for "Help, please." He's been doing this thing with his videos where he wants help to change them or start them or rewind them or adjust the volume -- all things he knows how to do on his own, barring some complication -- because he simply wants the interaction. And every now and then there IS a complication, in which case he really does need help. But it's usually not clear until we go with him and assess the situation. After the bazillionth time, it is something we are reluctant to do. So, when he entered the kitchen with a request for help, my husband assumed it was yet another false video alarm. He refused to go, and sent him off with the encouraging words, "You know how to do it! You can do it yourself!" Max paused, but agreed, and took off down the hall. We found him in his room, gamely attempting to change his own messy pull-up. Ugh.

But mostly the changes have been good.

We finally had a spell of warm weather recently, and the snow melted off the pavement, making our street and sidewalk visible for the first time in months. I desperately needed to get outside and feel the sunshine on my face, and decided to do just that. Without Max. He's been sick, didn't want to go, was happily watching a movie just inside the front windows. He is clearly visible from outside. Our loop is a scant 1/3 mile, with a good portion of it in view of our house & yard. There is no traffic. Our neighbor was outside in his front yard. Max's brother was riding his bike in laps around the loop. I decided it could work. And by all my explaining here, it's probably clear that a) I don't want you to feel the need to call CPS or criticize me, and b) even though there are many reasons it sounded like a workable idea, it wasn't.

I noticed on the 2nd lap that I couldn't see him in the window, and there was no response to my maniacal waving. So I went inside the house to check on him. When he heard me enter the house, he came skittering down the hall from the bathroom, with a guilty look on his face. He was shaking his head no, and hiding his hand behind his back. I assumed the worst in a toilet-y sort of way, but the bathroom seemed fine. Then I noticed the fingernail clippers on the counter. And that is NEVER a good sign.

Sure enough, I asked him what he had been doing and made him show me his hand...

...and THIS! This is what he had been doing -- trying to trim his own nails!

Independence is a tricky thing. It's long overdue, yet way too soon. It's two steps forward, one step back. It's trial and error. It's mess and discomfort.

But I'm trying to remind myself that it's positive. And beautiful. And necessary. For BOTH of us.
Just as long as it doesn't involve clippers.

Sleeping Update

Sleep Update, Month 4.

1. The new sleeping arrangement continues!

2. Even through a bit of sickness! (It was just a cold, but that is an incredibly encouraging sign. He did wake during the night and needed some help & comfort, but he went back to his own bed each time. That's huge.)

3. Not only is Max sleeping through the night in his own room, but he's also falling asleep by himself, in bed, ALONE! (That one fact might be an even bigger accomplishment than the location, frankly. There have been times when he slept in his own room, or slept through the night in our bed, but there has NEVER been a time when he fell asleep alone.)

4. And if that didn't impress you enough, here's one that will make you fall right off your computer chair -- Max wanted to read in bed and turn off his own light! (It was a passing phase, but must be noted because of the incredible Wow Factor.) He tried it for a few nights, and though we left his room with crazy grins (and a hefty portion of doubt), he actually did it. He looked at his books, then turned off his own lamp, and then went to sleep. That's some beautiful independence, there. (And imitation at its best!)

***

To truly appreciate how far we've come, I had to revisit some posts from the past. Follow the links to see both the illustrated version and the wordy version of our sleep struggle from ONE year ago, and this little story from TWO years ago.

Shattered by Socks.

This morning was not easy. It's a regular school day, so we were just going through the regular school day routine. It should have been simple, a choreographed 45-minute routine.

Except my husband is out of town. And that changes everything, in Max's mind.

Or maybe that wasn't it at all. I don't know. (Which is precisely the point.)

Max started to cry in the shower. He didn't want to be alone, he didn't want to get in, he didn't want to get out, he didn't want to be wet, he didn't want to be dried. But he was calm again after being wrapped in a towel and got dressed quietly and willingly. I thought he was fine.

And then we got to the socks. I had grabbed a pair of socks from the very end of the supply, and had one sock on his foot when he suddenly realized that it was a pair he did NOT want to wear. Most of his socks are solid white, soft and stretchy, all an identical Max-approved brand. But there are a few random pairs that appear when the laundry is backed up and choice is limited.

Max did not want to wear those socks. They didn't feel right. They didn't look right. They were simply not going to go on his feet today. So I went in search of a new, acceptable pair. I offered two other choices -- tube socks or footies -- knowing he typically disliked both, but they were all that was left. (And some days he's fine with them!) But not today. Today he got upset and flatly refused to cooperate any more. With anything.


I dug through the laundry basket and found yesterday's pair of dirty socks -- the last of the preferred kind -- and tried to put those on him. But he was done. The window of opportunity had already slammed shut.

He cried, he gagged and puked, he scratched his face, and hit his head against the wall. He kept his bare feet far away from me, scrambling sideways like a crab, refusing to calm down or listen to reason.

I kept telling him the bus was coming and he needed to let me put his socks and shoes on. I pointed out that the socks were his favorites. I gave him some time, hoping it would let him push his own re-set button. When that didn't work, I pleaded, I begged, I scolded, I threatened, I reasoned, I promised, I yelled, I wrestled, I pulled & I tugged.

Then I slumped down, defeated & frustrated, buried my face in my hands, and cried.

Max saw this and staggered over to me, his face crumpled and his arms out for a hug. He crawled onto my lap, wrapped his arms around me, and buried his face.

We comforted each other for a moment, and then put those socks and shoes on.

Generally speaking, once the situation is resolved, Max is over it. He forgives, he forgets, he doesn't hold a grudge, he regains control, and he moves on. But the rest of us can't. We're shaken. We're upset. We're bothered, frustrated, sad, resentful, worried.

And today was no different. Max's tears ended, but my older son's started. He waited for his own bus with tears dripping silently down his cheeks. And so my own eyes fill yet again. I tried to talk it through with him, but I'm at a loss myself. I don't understand why it happened. I don't know when it will happen again. I don't know how to prevent it from happening. (We can avoid those socks, obviously, but the reality is that it will be about something else next time.)

Max got on the bus and left for school. He's ready, he knows what to do, and everything makes sense.

But for those of us left in the wake of the storm, nothing makes sense. We don't know what to do. We aren't ready for the day.

I'm throwing away those socks and doing a load of laundry. But beyond that, I'm at a loss...

Come Closer!

I have a secret to tell you. Well, it's not really a secret...but it's one of those things that I'm scared to say out loud. But I'm bursting at the seams and I need to tell someone! So lean in close and I'll whisper it in your ear....

MAX IS SLEEPING IN HIS OWN ROOM! BY HIMSELF! ALL NIGHT LONG!!

HE'S SLEEEEEPINNNNG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(There are not enough exclamation points in the world.)

Truth be told, he's been doing it for several weeks now. So it should "stick" -- right?? But we continue to tip-toe around in the evenings and keep our fingers crossed that he does not regress for any reason. I think that if I let him crawl in bed with me ONE SINGLE TIME, or if he comes down with the flu, or if a butterfly spreads its wings in China, all that progress could vanish instantly. (But even then, I would know that we've made it here once before and we can do it again!)

It took 3 months to get here. (That is, 3 months in addition to the 8 1/2 years of previous work!) For 3 months, we faithfully recorded everything and worked towards this goal with a singular focus. We did not give in. We did not back down. We got creative. We changed some things. We added some things. AND IT WORKED.

I have to add -- a small part of me wonders how much earlier this could have worked, and how many nights of frustration we could have avoided. I don't know. Maybe a year? I seriously don't think it could have happened much earlier than that. And it doesn't even matter now. But I do know this: the time was right and it went smoothly because HE was ready.

There are things we did to help him be ready, but the bottom line is that his changes were more important than ours.

This is big, people. HUGE! (So DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!!) *tossing salt over shoulder*