Why I Cried at the Bakery on my Son's Birthday

Our first child has just hit a number on his birthday cake that brought tears to my eyes...in the bakery section of the grocery store. It's not really one of the typical monumental birthdays or a number which even merits its own special celebratory section of the card store. Those are reserved for 1st birthdays, the official teenage-ness of 13, of course hitting the streets at 16, and then the obvious 21. Those are the big ones, right? My first born baby did not reach any of those ages last week, but still, I was shocked at how freaked out I became at his actual age.

It's 12.

I picked up his birthday cake from the bakery lady. (Read the epilogue for how I forgave myself for giving up on homemade birthday cakes). Over the counter, the baker passed me this huge, gory-looking, red and black cake that was decorated to match Reese's vampire-themed birthday party that night. It had black bats flying all over it, and oozing over the sides of the cake was dripping, dark, crimson blood (made of icing, of course). It was not the type of cake that would usually cause a mother to ooh, aah and then emotionally reminisce about the long-gone days when her fast-growing son was a newborn baby.

However, we are talking about me here.

I looked at that vile cake that was going to be just what we needed for Reese's Halloween birthday party, and my mama tears bubbled to the surface. I read those familiar words which I have seen eleven times before, but this time...this year, they were written in double layers of red and black icing, and they said "Happy 12th Birthday!"

When did my itty-bitty, easy-going, dark-haired baby boy become a 12-year-old kid?

I've told you before about him wearing men's size clothing. His shoes are bigger than his dad's. The literature and science which interest him are helping his mind to grow in ways I can only dream will continue to be fostered for years to come. These changes have been gradual. They happened before my eyes, but they occurred alongside all of the other daily grinds we experience while parenting Reese and his siblings. I guess I didn't take the time to notice how much he has grown until that day. His 12th birthday.

I stood in the grocery line to pay for this cake and the last few items I needed before his birthday party on a rainy, windy, cold Halloween night. Again, I looked down at that ghoulish cake at the bottom of my buggy.

TWELVE!

Darn, more tears.

I reached for my phone to send Mark a message to let him know what I was feeling that very second. I wanted to share it with someone. No, not just with someone. With the man who brought this baby into the world with me.

Here's our conversation:

Me: "I can't believe our baby is 12 today..."

Mark: "I know. I love you."

Me: "Getting teary..."

Mark: "Yeah I know. (Kissy face emoticon)."

How lucky am I to have a husband who knows me so well? He knows me so well that he can tell when my texts are coming from an emotional and tearful place. I don't act like this on every birthday, I promise. He knows how much being a mother has shaped me, and how much of myself I have poured into the lives of each person in this family. Because Reese was our first baby, we learned how to do everything together when he was born. We're actually okay with admitting that we are still learning as we go...the three of us...together. Maybe that's why it always seems so hard when Reese reaches a new age.

We became parents for the first time when we were 24 and 25 years old, practically babies ourselves by today's parenting norms. Like all first-time parents, we didn't know what we were doing. We read as many books as we could and asked questions of the very few people who were young like we were and going through it, too. We "looked online" for answers and ideas. Now, we'd call it "googling," although that term didn't exist yet when Reese was born. I devoured all the free baby magazines I could sign-up for through my doctor's office. Of course, I asked my mom for advice. She was pretty much the only person I trusted, and I believed everything she told me!

We were a family of three for such a small amount of time, and then this family grew and grew and grew. For fourteen quick months, our first, cozy home was suited just right for Mark, Reese and me (and our good ole pup, Abby). Those early days were easily cherished, probably because they were so incredibly short. We blinked, and they were gone.

You know what happens after the baby days are over. No more diapers, no more sippy cups, no more Baby Einstein DVDs. Suddenly, in came hoodies, Gatorade and The Hunger Games. I once could hold my son's sweet head in one of my hands. His hands, his feet and his entire body would lay across my chest and rest comfortably in my motherly arms. Now, his hands are the same size as mine, but I haven't held them in my own for years. So goes the life of a first born son. He's growing up and no longer needing the literal presence of his mama's hands.

All of these feelings were bombarding me at the cash register. I found it ironic that such a gross-looking birthday cake could cause such a stir of emotions in me. Although it was unexpected, it was a happy surprise. I'm fortunate that I was forced by those bloody bats to reexamine my role as a mother to our first child. What have we been through together? What have we learned? How much has he grown? Where will he go from here?

Now that the party weekend is over, I'm not feeling so overwhelmed by the number on Reese's cake. The kids at our house had a blast watching their teeth turn black and red from that famous cake, chasing each other around, acting sillier than I'd ever seen, and then traipsing through the wet leaves to trick-or-treat as a group of rowdy boys. The next morning, Reese told me that one woman asked their group this annoying question:

"Aren't you kids too old to be trick-or-treating?"

I wish I had thought to address that subject with him before they ventured out for their candy. I told Reese that if it happens again next year, he just has to say, "Nope, we're still just kids."

You know, that's how we'll always see them. As kids. Even when they're 18, or 21 or becoming parents and not having a clue what they're doing. They'll always be kids to us. Our hands will always be here, openly waiting for whenever they're needed again.


EPILOGUE: I used to place all kinds of crazy pressure on myself to bake and decorate my kids' birthday cakes. Long before Pinterest came about, I was competing against nobody but myself to create perfect birthday parties. How annoying of me. Thankfully, I eventually gave myself permission to buy birthday cakes. They are delicious. They are cute. They are gone in five minutes, so I don't feel defeated when the hours I spent working on them are gobbled up by grubby hands and messy faces. Homemade or store-bought, birthday cakes are delightful, even when they're covered in whipped cream-flavored vampire blood.

 

 

 

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Peeling Back the Mask of Sensory Processing Disorder: Part 2

After writing about our family's experience with Sensory Processing Disorder during Halloween time, and seeing how greatly it affects so many children, I have decided to make this topic the focus of a 3 part series.

In Part 1, I described what life can be like for a child with sensory processing issues. After many years, my third child had finally decided to wear a Halloween costume.

In the post you are reading now, which is Part 2, I'd like to share what happened after Chip joyfully wore his costume for the first time. Often, sensitive children can change their minds at a moment's notice. I'll describe what it was like for him to attend his school's Halloween party, which has always been an overwhelming experience for Chip.

Finally, I will publish a piece for parents who are seeking advice or help with sensory processing issues. Please look for that in Part 3: 3 Rules to Navigating a New Stage of Parenting.

               

Making Strides and Setbacks at Halloween

 

After excitedly blogging about Chip wearing his Green Ninja costume around the house for an entire night, I felt he was ready to conquer Halloween! I was positive it was going to be the greatest year ever. I believed we were over that hurdle that had always been keeping him from truly enjoying a night of candy-grabbing and playing with friends.

Chip ran home from the bus on Friday afternoon, so excited for the Halloween parade at school. He dressed himself right away and counted down the hours until it was time to leave. I had warned my children ahead of time that they were going to need to be patient in the beginning, as we were arriving early to finish decorating our car for trunk-or-treat. They would need to wait with me while we completed that task, and then again while I greeted families at the door. (I was wearing My PTA-mom hat, along with my bright orange pumpkin shirt). Extra rules on an already sensory-overloaded night can be difficult.

I thought I had done my best to prepare Chip by explaining these guidelines many times before we left the house. However, once we were at the school, everything changed.

Tears started to flow.

He was crying about wanting to take off his costume.

He began insisting on never going to the parade again, never wearing a costume again, and predicting it was going to be a horrible night.

It all happened in just a few moments, right after we pulled into our parking space. I worried that everything Chip had overcome during the prior few days was going to be erased, and his new self-confidence would be forgotten.

Well, I was wrong.

Suddenly, out of the side window, Chip saw a few of his friends starting to arrive, too. More ninjas of varying colors were filing out of their cars. Football players, zombies, superheroes, Darth Vader. All of them were ready for the party and eager to see Chip. Seeing his friends in costume was enough to shake him out of his momentary lapse in Halloween readiness.

The rest of the night was a blur of what Chip described as "The Best Halloween Party Ever!"

Hundreds of parents and kids waiting in line for donuts and cider, children squashed up against each other on the floor watching a festive film, temperatures reaching sauna-like levels. All of these factors would have sent Chip into a frenzy in the past. This year, my boy did not melt down and cry to go home. He left me in the dust, braved it all, and said he couldn't wait for next year.

 

The junk bus is transformed for Trunk-or-Treat.

I only had half a bag of trash to clean out before the night! 

PS. It was much spookier in the dark.

(Photo courtesy of Christine H.)

For any parents with sensitive children, please feel safe in knowing you are not alone. Our kids' struggles are real, and they tend to move through them at their own pace. Even when they seem like they are moving ahead, setbacks are common. We just need to be supportive of our babies...day to day, moment to moment.

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Peeling Back the Mask of Sensory Processing Disorder

One late October morning, while all of my children were at school, I embarked on a motherly mission to find a very specific Halloween costume for one of those kids. My highly-sensitive, hates-the-way-everything-feels-on-his-body, usually-never-wears-a-Halloween-costume, seven-year-old kid. I cannot tell you how thrilled I was that he actually chose to wear a costume this year! I was more than happy to spend my teensy weensy bit of free time that morning walking the aisles of Party City in search of the highly sought-after Green Ninja garb.

In the past, as any parent with sensitive children knows, Halloween has caused some major trauma in our family. We've had screaming, kicking, crying, yelling, fighting, all of which ends up with the child not wearing a costume anyway...obviously.

Our first glimpse into the world of no-costume Halloweens was when Trixie was just a toddler. We were living in Japan and were preparing to go trick-or-treating in the neighborhood surrounding the kids' International preschool. I was attempting to adorn her and Reese in their adorably plush Disney Store Pooh and Tigger costumes, which my mom had sent over from America. Trixie had such a major meltdown that I actually had to cut her out of the costume. Scissors went straight up the back of that sucker so I could peel it off of her, because she was so far into her sensory tantrum that there was no other way out of it. My kids were the only Americans in their school (the only kids who actually celebrated Halloween), and yet they showed up wearing pumpkin shirts instead of costumes to trick-or-treat.

Little did I know that our third child would also have such severe issues with his sensory system. Most parents whose children process their senses in a typical way can't imagine that other children do not find dressing up for Halloween to be fun and exciting. For those of us with sensitive kids, we accept their reality that Halloween costumes are annoying and itchy and hard and just feel wrong. It takes patience, and sometimes it can take years for parents to figure out just what is happening with our children's body systems.

Have you been there? Have you learned what works for them or are you still in the phase of wondering what the heck is happening?

As our parenting progressed, we, too, progressed at how quickly we could recognize the signs of sensory processing issues. Now, we just know what to expect, when to expect it, and we've learned to let the children guide most of what goes on their bodies. Whether or not our kids will wear a Halloween costume is always a toss-up. After I experienced the horror of slicing that brand new Winnie the Pooh to pieces, I happily vowed never to buy a Disney Store costume again.

One year, Chip decided to go as a stealth ninja for Halloween. Sounds like a costume, right? Well, actually, he just meant that he would wear all black clothing that was already part of his every day wardrobe. The next year, he was a soccer player. Again, nothing extra or unusual, just wearing his normal gym pants and his park league soccer t-shirt.

Does it matter to us what kind of costume or not-really-a-costume our kids wear for Halloween? Absolutely not. We want them to be comfortable and have fun, just like everybody else. However, early this September, we noticed a small shift in Chip's mentality. He started to talk about not wanting to wear anything at all this year, and then not wanting to go trick-or-treating. What was breaking my heart was that his sensitivity was going to start to hinder him.

Maybe some parents would find skipping trick-or-treat a good thing and not worth mourning. For us, it was a sad time, because we knew that Chip really did not want to give it up yet. He's only seven, and that kid LOVES candy. He craves it and sneaks it and devours it, and, well, he just loves it. All of his friends and sibs were growing excited for Halloween, yet he was unable to feel that happy anticipation due to his anxious sensitivity.

About two weeks before Halloween, Chip surprised us by quietly stating that he changed his mind and was planning to wear an actual costume this year. He had deduced that if he skipped any kind of costume and thus skipped trick-or-treating, he would not be receiving any candy of his own. His brothers and sister would not be obligated to share their stash with him, and he knew the rule:

No costume=no trick-or-treat=no candy. 

He had seen the Green Ninja costume in the Party City catalog, and somehow, he set his mind on that one. Something about Lego Ninjago, of course, because it's all the rage in second grade. When I found the costume in the store and looked at all of its layers and pieces, I didn't know how he would react when I brought it home. Would he willingly put it on over his clothes or exclaim that it bothered his skin or felt too tight? Parents with sensitive kids will rejoice with me when I tell you that Chip was ecstatic to see his Green Ninja costume waiting at his kitchen table seat after school. (We do have assigned seats at the dinner table-I highly recommend it to anyone with little ones who argue over where to sit). He put it straight on over his clothes and did not take it off until bedtime!

 

This night was a true reason to celebrate for my sensitive son. He shared with me how soft his new costume felt inside and that he could be like a real ninja while he was wearing it. He jumped, kicked, twisted and flailed, but this time, it was all in the name of play-fighting with Marshall. It was not to try to take off a costume that caused pain or frustration.

This weekend will be a special Halloween event at his school, where Chip can show off his new costume to all of the friends who don't live in our neighborhood. No more walking through the costume parade at school with kids asking him, "Chip, what are you supposed to be?" It will be glaringly obvious. He is a Green Ninja, and his mama is so proud of him!

To be honest, Halloween isn't the only time we struggle around here. We've come to realize that each child in our family has a varying degree of these feelings when it comes to what goes on or into their bodies. Their sensory processing struggles not only affect their clothing choices all year, but can also inhibit their abilities to enjoy food, sunlight and especially sound. As their parents, we can only do our best to guide them with ways to navigate the world that they inhabit. This year, Chip was able to place his love of candy above his fear of the unknown...that very scary world of Halloween costume discomfort.

http://www.autism-live.com/halloween-autism-advice.aspx

I decided to dedicate this topic to a 3 part series. Please read my other two sections in Peeling Back the Mask of Sensory Processing Disorder:

Making Strides and Setbacks at Halloween (Part 2)

3 Rules to Navigating a New Stage of Parenting (Part 3)


If you have a child with autism or sensory processing disorder, how have you handled the struggles? What are you hoping to learn from other parents' experiences? Let's share how we have managed this issue in the comments section.

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