Taking Things in Stride

I keep making lists of possible blog topics on small pieces of memo paper and then losing them. I suppose this is a metaphor for something, but I couldn't say what.

A month or so ago, we had Stow re-evaluated for Early Intervention (or First Steps, or whatever the 0 to 3 early development program is called where you live). He'd been getting speech, OT, and developmental therapy before we moved, but it took a herculean effort (and several months) to get things started here in our new town. Fortunately, he improved A LOT over the 12 months of therapy he did before we moved, so I wasn't panicked about how long it took for things to fall into place here. I was actually starting to think maybe he didn't need the extra help anymore.

But, then we had the evaluations and he qualified for just about everything--weekly occupational, developmental, and behavioral therapy as well as speech and PT consults. He even got these (just today):

Stow-approved colors and dinosaur design.

Proudly modeling his new AFOs (Ankle Foot Orthoses)--and, OMG, who can resist those chubby toddler legs?

See that white circle highlighted by my deftly-drawn yellow arrow? That's a "potato chip pad," and I am pretty sure it will become the new bane of my existence much like Pink P's glasses did. There is no way we are going to be able to keep track of two little Pringle-shaped pieces of foam. No way.

To be honest, I thought Stow would never wear these. But, when he tried them on for the first time, I pointed out that they made him look like the robot on his shirt (and, yes, I totally dressed him in his favorite robot shirt for this very purpose). He loves robots so immediately agreed with me. Then, he quite willingly wore the braces out of the doctor's office and into the car. After that, he refused to take them off when we got home despite the fact that the smooth, hard plastic turned the braces into ice skates on our hardwood floors. He didn't even want to take them off for bed. So, I guess that's one less thing to worry about. (Now I just have to figure out where to get shoes big enough and socks long enough to work with these braces--so far, I'm 0 for 3).

Sometimes people ask me if Stow is on the autism spectrum like his brother (this, by the way, is a rude question). Therapists sent to evaluate him always assume he isn't. Then they do their evaluations and change their minds. I don't know whether he is or not. Do I think about it? Yes. Do I worry about it? Of course. But, as our old (beloved and much missed) doctor used to say, "It doesn't matter either way. You're still going to do the same things." And, she's right. Since Sky's diagnosis, we naturally do things differently with all three kids. We offer sensory breaks and places to crash. We eat and sleep well and make sure their schedules are well-structured. We assume non-compliance doesn't necessarily mean defiance. We slow down. We listen better. We get the therapies they need when they need them. It's not always easy, and we make plenty of mistakes. But here's the thing: in the end, I know that no matter how things go for Stow (or Pink, or Sky), we're probably going to figure out how to take it in stride.




UPDATE 3/7/14

I found not one but THREE pairs of shoes (on sale!) that work well with the braces. Stow's thrilled because two of the three pairs have Planes characters on them. Sometimes I totally rock (and other times I fail miserably, so I suppose it all works out in the end).