A few years ago bandaids and gloves had to cover his hands. It seems that he had scraped his hands at school which for DS1 at the age of 7 years and higly sensitized to his environment, he had only just returned from a trip to Darwin. But then he came back to Adelaide weather and because he had scraped his hands he had somehow decided that he would cover his hands with bandaids. He used allot of bandaids. He went through allot of packets. The school sopoke to me several times about the amount of bandaids he was using and could he please bring his own suppply as they needed to keep a supply for other students as well. He used to wear the bandaids for many days and would not want me to change them. One day I took off a bandaid and found that the sticking plaster was causing a rash on his skin. This was not helping at all. In an effort to think about how to prevent him using so many plasters I thought I had come up with a brainwave. I would substitute the bandaids with gloves. This turned out to be not a solution at all.
He loved wearing the gloves. He wore them non-stop for 3 months. Eventually I worked out that I could not buy just any old glove with a mixed fabric material. The material had to be cotton and it had to breathe. My sons hands got sweaty from wearing the poly fabric gloves and he did not have the will to explain this to me. One day I finally got his gloves off of him to find his skin peeling . This upset me greatly, I was not going to sit by and let this phobia he had hurt him so I changed gloves. I realized the material used to make the gloves was making his hands sweaty. It was impossible to find cotton gloves anywhere. In an effort to dry wet gloves we used a blow dryer, this had a warming effect on the glove also. It seems that he also thought he had horrible hands possibly because they felt extra sensitive. An extra teacher was called in at the time to help him understand how he was feeling. Constant wear of gloves poses a few problems when it comes to washing the darned things.
I didn’t understand what was happenning only that I wanted him to be comfortable, Then it seemed to occur that because it had grown cold during the winter months that the gloves had to be warm when he put them on, so they were dried in a certain section of the house before he put them on to go to school. This went on for quite some time or there would be loud protestations from Junior. Well, requests to dry the socks started happenning at school, when he was due to come home from school, and the hair dryer – oh the hair dryer! I just determined I would not put up with it any more and I told him that I was not going to do it any more. He screamed and shouted at me about it because I wasn’t, I guess, assisting the set routine. I did not want him to stop using his hands so we started on the path of challenging him to work his hands and fingers on the piano. Hopefully music will do the trick. Now years oater he plays some beautiful pieces on the piano. Thank goodness something has paid off!
I love laughing with my son’s. It’s one of the things I treasure about my family. We all laugh. Laughter is the best medicine to heal all wounds. I know your need for sameness and your anxiety shows up when things are different. I just want to be Mum, because I love being Mum. All my life I wanted to be Mum and for the last 9 years I finally have been. What a journey of highs and lows. I want to love every minute of it. I want to treasure it and sometimes things are so tough you want to run the other way! But I gotta love that too.
It’s absolutely freezing outside right now! I want to create a big marshmellow which is my home. I bought a bag of marshmellows last night for all of us to roast on the fire. The home of my children. With my husband and pets. I want the grandparents and friends to come over on a weekly Sunday morning breakfast. I have this. Immediate family and extended on the weekly catchup brekky.
Most of all I want to create a place where my boys can thrive because I accept you as you are. Where it is ok to be how you are and who you are. Who you are may be different from everybody else and you know what. That’s ok! Whatever differences you have, well I just love it. I can’t do anything else, I just can’t.
The worlds a tough place and home needs to be a spongey trampoline that we can bounce around on and have fun. Because we do. We have so much fun at home. We like our home, sometimes I don’t understand why you don’t want to get out the door to go out, but I do understand that home is the same.
I encourage my son to exercise. My son was telling me the other day, “Mum, it’s so beneficial to play the X-box because you can get this great exercising of your thumbs, it helps with my core functioning!”.
DS1 has been having lots of discussions with his class teachers about how much he wants an x-box, and what an asset an x-box would be at his school. As far as my son is concerned the school needs an x box. You know what! The kid is going to do great at debating because when he gets going you can’t shut him up. I love you son. And while this may be the case! I was referring earlier in the paragraph to him doing pushups and situps to strengthen his whole body.
When Dear Son No.1 was very young, maybe 5 years old he went bouncing on the jumping pillow at a Caravan Park, on a holiday. He wanted to bounce all the time I remember him wanting to watch prerecorded Bear Grylls videos over and over again as if they were instructional video’s on skills needed to face the day.
When No.1 Kiddo was 5 years old I remember him playing on the jumping pillow at the caravan park holiday and he found some boys to hang around with who No.1 Kiddo thought were his friends even though they clearly found him an annoying tag along and made fun of him. This made me angry No.1 Kiddo did not recognize the unkindness in these boys and he wanted me to go away. I cautioned No. 1 Kiddo, wanting to protect him but also realizing that he has to find his own way in navigating this social interaction. These were mean to him. They made fun of him and took advantage of my son’s naivety and he couldn’t understand that they weren’t being friends. HE could not understand that they were not looking after him.