School Days with Sensory Processing Disorder
Wow. It’s only 8:45am and I’m already needing a nap! Kayden was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder on top of his ADHD diagnosis a few years ago. That struggle is so real. It’s every day, every moment, every activity. To say it controls a lot of how we do things in our household is a massive understatement. That doesn’t mean I hate it. I wouldn’t change him for the world. He is my entire world.
My sweet, caring, big hearted guy is so sensitive to any sensory stimulation, it can make even the simplest task a melt down. Waking up and getting ready for school is one of those simple things that just isn’t easy for my kiddo. I mean, waking up sucks for everyone, but add in SPD and it’s a whole new level. His body can’t handle the sensory change of a warm blanket to getting dressed. His eyes can’t handle the morning lights, and the fast pace of school mornings send my baby into complete Sensory Overload. Every morning is the same. No matter how we try to change the routine, there are three things that happen every single day. He will cry that he’s cold. He will tell me he’s not going to school. He will say his throat hurts. NO MATTER WHAT
No matter what Kayden goes to bed in, he will always be cold in the morning. The physical stimulation of taking off his blanket gives his brain an instant message that he’s cold. Even in the dead of summer when our house can get up to 80 degrees. I’ve tried everything to help him with being cold in the mornings, from over worrying about it and obsessing over the thermostat, to pretending it’s no big deal and ignoring his complaints. I’ve finally accepted Kayden will be cold every morning. We just have to try to get him through it the best we can. And man does the kid hate being cold. He cries “I’m cold” and it kills me because I know I can’t fix it for him. No blanket or sweater, or thick jammies can quell the overstimulation. So we talk our way through it. [mommy talks. Kayden cries.]
Some mornings it’s a cry, other mornings he’s gritting his teeth and shouting at me “I’m NOT going to school!” He knows he won’t get the reaction he wants from me and he knows saying that won’t get him out of school, but he has to say it. It wouldn’t be a school morning if he didn’t say it. There is no smiles from here on out for the rest of our mornings. He’s cold. He’s tired. He’s overstimulated by the pace of the morning, and now he’s sure he has strep throat and can’t go to school.
He will say his throat hurts. I’m sure the amount of screaming and crying by this point really has made his sleepy throat tender. But there’s no redness, no swelling, no fever. “My throat hurts!” Usually in the same angry whiny tone as “I’m cold”. He swears it’s probably strep throat. He’s not lying. It really hurts. Mommy talks. Kayden cries.
After these three morning staples, we’ve somehow managed to get dressed and ready for the day. He’s still screaming as I cradle his size twelve foot in my hand and slip on his shoes just like I’ve done since he was a baby. Now we’re ready. Backpack is already waiting in the car, dads got the car running and it’s time to go. Kayden’s still yelling or crying or some stomach turning mix of the two. We’re gonna be late. He’s planted himself still with roots deep in the carpet. Daddy has to scoop him up. “You’re hurting me!” Daddy changes the way he’s holding him and tells him we have to go now. Kayden’s still screaming, grasping for the door frame as they walk out the door, hollering like he’s being tortured. At this point I let out the breath I’d forgotten I was holding and lock the door before he snakes out of Mr. Creamer’s arms to run back into the house. Then I peak out the bay window and watch my husband place our flailing boy into the car and drive away.
I can take a break now. I can work on my blog. Yet my mind just keeps wandering back to that poor overstimulated little guy who just can’t handle school mornings. I contemplate texting his teacher to check in on him, but know he’s always doing fine once he’s there and shake the idea from my head. I try to make a blog post, but all I can think about is my sweet boy and how difficult mornings with SPD can be. To say it controls a lot of how we do things in our household... is a massive understatement.
My sweet, caring, big hearted guy is so sensitive to any sensory stimulation, it can make even the simplest task a melt down. Waking up and getting ready for school is one of those simple things that just isn’t easy for my kiddo. I mean, waking up sucks for everyone, but add in SPD and it’s a whole new level. His body can’t handle the sensory change of a warm blanket to getting dressed. His eyes can’t handle the morning lights, and the fast pace of school mornings send my baby into complete Sensory Overload. Every morning is the same. No matter how we try to change the routine, there are three things that happen every single day. He will cry that he’s cold. He will tell me he’s not going to school. He will say his throat hurts. NO MATTER WHAT
No matter what Kayden goes to bed in, he will always be cold in the morning. The physical stimulation of taking off his blanket gives his brain an instant message that he’s cold. Even in the dead of summer when our house can get up to 80 degrees. I’ve tried everything to help him with being cold in the mornings, from over worrying about it and obsessing over the thermostat, to pretending it’s no big deal and ignoring his complaints. I’ve finally accepted Kayden will be cold every morning. We just have to try to get him through it the best we can. And man does the kid hate being cold. He cries “I’m cold” and it kills me because I know I can’t fix it for him. No blanket or sweater, or thick jammies can quell the overstimulation. So we talk our way through it. [mommy talks. Kayden cries.]
Some mornings it’s a cry, other mornings he’s gritting his teeth and shouting at me “I’m NOT going to school!” He knows he won’t get the reaction he wants from me and he knows saying that won’t get him out of school, but he has to say it. It wouldn’t be a school morning if he didn’t say it. There is no smiles from here on out for the rest of our mornings. He’s cold. He’s tired. He’s overstimulated by the pace of the morning, and now he’s sure he has strep throat and can’t go to school.
He will say his throat hurts. I’m sure the amount of screaming and crying by this point really has made his sleepy throat tender. But there’s no redness, no swelling, no fever. “My throat hurts!” Usually in the same angry whiny tone as “I’m cold”. He swears it’s probably strep throat. He’s not lying. It really hurts. Mommy talks. Kayden cries.
After these three morning staples, we’ve somehow managed to get dressed and ready for the day. He’s still screaming as I cradle his size twelve foot in my hand and slip on his shoes just like I’ve done since he was a baby. Now we’re ready. Backpack is already waiting in the car, dads got the car running and it’s time to go. Kayden’s still yelling or crying or some stomach turning mix of the two. We’re gonna be late. He’s planted himself still with roots deep in the carpet. Daddy has to scoop him up. “You’re hurting me!” Daddy changes the way he’s holding him and tells him we have to go now. Kayden’s still screaming, grasping for the door frame as they walk out the door, hollering like he’s being tortured. At this point I let out the breath I’d forgotten I was holding and lock the door before he snakes out of Mr. Creamer’s arms to run back into the house. Then I peak out the bay window and watch my husband place our flailing boy into the car and drive away.
I can take a break now. I can work on my blog. Yet my mind just keeps wandering back to that poor overstimulated little guy who just can’t handle school mornings. I contemplate texting his teacher to check in on him, but know he’s always doing fine once he’s there and shake the idea from my head. I try to make a blog post, but all I can think about is my sweet boy and how difficult mornings with SPD can be. To say it controls a lot of how we do things in our household... is a massive understatement.
Comments
Post a Comment