August 24, 2015

Robert doesn’t like when the things disappear. The matter of fact neither do I.

A couple of years ago, Robert suddenly became agitated as he couldn’t find one of his three favorite dinner plates.  He seemed to check everything: cupboard, dishwasher, refrigerator, and all the rooms. To calm him down, I decided to find the plate myself.  I couldn’t.  I looked in all the typical places, which Robert had checked already and in less typical places such as the garbage containers, under the furniture,  garage, and  the laundry room.

I knew it was irrational to look inside the washing machine or the drier for the dinner plate, but not as irrational as  sudden vanishing of the dish. As my search became more and more futile with every absurdly chosen place, Robert became more  and more and more anxious and fixated on the plate.

But then, so was I.  Yes, I knew that the aliens didn’t kidnap the plate for whatever purpose.  I knew that the robbers didn’t sneak inside the house just to grab one old plate.  I knew it.  But then, what other explanation there could be for the vanishing  of the plate?

Well, there was another explanation.  The plate was waiting in the microwave still holding some forgotten food. (I don’t remember what.)

I don’t know who discover it, but both of us, Robert and I , were greatly relieved. We certainly didn’t want aliens or robbers sneaking behind our backs.

It was then when I  realized what Robert probably  felt when we had disposed of some of the things without his knowledge.

Because Robert always had difficulties parting with things, we erroneously believed that it would be more convenient to get rid of the unwanted things when he was not present.  Big mistake.  Robert wouldn’t cease looking for missing items and that including searching through all garbage cans.

We have learned that if the plate breaks, Robert has to see the broken plate before placing it in the trash.  Robert has to see his worn out clothes torn to a few pieces before letting them go in a rag hamper.  Only that can stop him from hours if not days of searching and asking and demanding an answer.  However, the verbally provided explanation is not as convincing as visual clarification. As they say, “The picture is worth thousand words.”

To explain the disappearance of an everyday article, more than thousand words are needed.

August 23, 2015

After long period of not writing, I lost focus and have to pick up the pieces.  This sentence doesn’t explain my difficulties as they are only partially caused by both the abundance and the vagueness of experiences and observations. My difficulties are caused mainly by my inability to write in an organized matter.  I am not able to state what is the main topic as, so called, ” supporting details” often seem more important than the main idea. Moreover, those details often support completely different conclusions. And the conclusions all too often do not clarify my understanding of Robert, but lead either to see him as a simplified stick figure or force me to suspend the judgement.  There are simple facts that can be easily noticed and described, but it is much harder to understand what is behind them.  What is their purpose or the cause. What model of  the universe causes Robert to do things in a certain way.

SETS OF THREE

Robert chose three different shirts to go with three different pants and three pieces of underwear.  Only Robert knows what goes with what.  Of course, his closet and his dresser hold more than three of each.  But for Robert, those additional articles of clothing do not exist.  He wears only one of the three.  Moreover he makes sure that they are always accessible to him. Thus, Robert’s preoccupation with laundry.  When two sets are already in the laundry hamper, Robert starts laundry.

Of course, the clothes wear off, they get holes, they get too tight, or they even break beyond repair. Robert still wants to keep them in his dresser until it becomes obviously clear to HIM that they cannot be worn any more.  That is my call to action. If there is a hole, too small for Robert to consider parting with his shirt, I made it bigger, when he doesn’t watch.  I might even tore it into two pieces.  Then, Robert puts those two parts in a hamper with other rags and….

And only then he chooses a replacement from remaining items of clothing. It still has to be three of each.

My job is to make sure that there is a fourth piece of each, just in case.

FOUR PLATES FOR FOUR (or more) POBLANOS

After I remove the seeds and ribs from the peppers, broil them in the oven, peel them, stuff with mozzarella cheese, cover with flour, dip in the egg and fry them in the oil, I place them all on a serving plate.  Robert will eat all four. But for each poblano, Robert will take a new plate and a new fork.  By the time he is done eating, four medium size plates and four forks land in the kitchen sink.

Although Robert is perfectly happy with one plate for a few pieces of chicken tenders, one at a time, or for 3, 4, or 5 pieces of eggplant parmesano, for poblano he makes exception.  Moreover, those plates are always the same four. If any of them is dirty, Robert washes it and dries it, to make sure he can put poblano on it. No other plate will do. When, however, I made five poblanos for Robert, he didn’t take another plate but ate it on one of the chosen four. Lately, Robert learned to leave one poblano for his dad. For that special arrangement Robert takes the fifth plate not really caring  which plate to choose.

He tried to use the plate even when it had a visible crack. Again, when Robert didn’t look, I broke the plate in half.  Robert inspected the plate, tried to put the two pieces together.  It didn’t work so he threw them in the garbage. Then he chose a replacement plate to join the other three still intact.

I assume that having three of each items of closing helps Robert simplify and organize his morning dressing routine. I am not sure, but this seems logical from my point of view. I am not sure however, what is the purpose of four plates for four poblanos.  Is that simply the result of obsessive compulsive disorder – the need to do it the same way every time? Well, OCD  could be a good name but not an informative explanation. 

August 7, 2015

I haven’t written for quite a while. Moreover, I haven’t been studying with Robert regularly.  There were, they still remain,  many distractions.  We painted some of the rooms. One room was painted on each of the four weekends. We had four different guests, each  staying at least a week. Robert was sick.  I was sick.  Maybe because of  that and a few additional demands put on our family life I couldn’t refocus on Robert.  I couldn’t find energy for an evening study hour. Besides, it was very hot and a constant noise from the running air conditioner didn’t help either. The two-hour long power outage was another unusual event, not without consequences.

For me, and I believe for Robert, the most important lesson of that time was to  adjust to changes or to  learn how to survive  with the slightest possible alterations to our lives.

Painting

At first, Robert was very much against it. He tried to put the furniture back by the walls.  He kept taking ladder back to the garage. But at some point he resigned himself to the inevitability of painting and started helping. He must have understood that his help would hasten the return to normalcy. He was the happiest and most helpful when he was finally allowed to put all the pieces of the furniture in their “normal” places.

Guests

Although guests usually alter family’s life by changing schedules, routines, r contents of the meals, Robert was rather unmoved by those changes.  There was, however, problem with laundry.  Robert feels responsible for washing everything that needs to be washed in our home. He washed also some garments of one of the guest.  He wanted to wash clothes of another guest, even if they were not in the laundry hamper. so he dared to go to the guest room and examined the clothes.  He wanted to wash them, but the owner protested. So Robert complied and gave them back without washing.

He learned his lesson all too well, and when the next guest put his dirty clothes in the hamper, Robert removed them and carried them back to the guest’s room. However, he complied with the guest’s wish and washed them later. Much later.

The notion that different guests might have different ideas about laundry was a little confusing, but nonetheless, Robert complied.

Power Outage

When the lights went out, Robert immediately assumed that mother could fix electricity easily by going to the fuse box and doing whatever needed to be done. The fact that mother refused to do so, made him really mad. With the light from the candles and flashlight I drew the primitive power plant with wires going in all directions including our neighborhood and our house. I tried to explained that the wires were down somewhere, but Robert didn’t accept my explanation. “Light, light, light” Over and over.  Request for the lights to come back was expressed loudly, dramatically, and frequently over the period of one hour. It got worse when Robert’s dad came home.  The fact that his father couldn’t repair the light was incomprehensible to Robert. He became more angry with our “stubbornness” . “Light, light, light” Hundred times, thousand times. Loudly, dramatically, non stopping.

Robert’s dad wanted to take him to the McDonald.  I was against, as I remember the time when I believed that such distraction would help.  It didn’t.  Although Robert allowed me to buy him fries and a coke, he, nonetheless, didn’t stop calling for light loudly and desperately between sips of his coke and bites of his fries.

The only other ideas was to try to follow with the evening routine any way.  I brought the flashlight to the bathroom and turned the water in the tub. Robert reluctantly took the hint.  He washed and dried himself quickly. We turned on a movie on Ipad, Robert calmed down and joined us to watch the movie.  He calmed down a lot.  Not that he had forgotten about missing lights.  But the frequency, loudness, and drama all went down.  He was almost ready to go to his bed and sleep, when the light came back.  Robert ran through the house turning all the lights out and then went to sleep.

July 29, 2015

Robert doesn’t explain himself. He doesn’t tell what hurts.  Only once he asked for a doctor and pointed to his tongue stating that it hurt.  Rarely, he has high fever that would alert me to his altered state of well-being. But there are other signs.

1. The first sign telling me that Robert is not feeling well is the fact that he relinguishes his role of the guardian of his environment.  He is not walking all over the house checking what I have left in wrong places while I was cleaning. He ignores toothpaste  on the right side of the sink instead of the left side, or shaving cream on the wrong shelf of the cabinet. He doesn’t make sure that my phone and my car keys are in my purse. He leaves paper shopping bags in the middle of the kitchen instead of folding them and putting away. One might say that Robert’s obsessive compulsive behaviors is greatly reduced.  I say that he just cares less about the world around.

2. The second sign is the fact that he prefers to stay in bed instead of going for a walk or even to the movies. He always  likes to take naps, but when he has an opportunity to leave the house for a walk in the park, go to the restaurant or movies, he is up in a minute. When he is sick this is not the case.

“Robert, do you want to go to the movies or sleep a little longer?” I ask. Half sleeping he answers, “Sleep little longer. ” One hour later his response is the same, “Sleep little longer” . He doesn’t changes his mind two or three hours later.

3. Sometimes, he seems to have high fever.  But since he tends to sleep deep under his comforter and get very warm, that is not the best indicator of his condition.

4. Sometimes, he says that something hurts. Very often, he cannot name the part of his body his pain comes from. Unless it is easier. If it comes from his mouth, he would say, “Tongue hurts.” In the past, he sometimes screamed from the pain. I only suspected his stomach or his intestines. However, I  didn’t exclud headaches or asthma tightness.  I used to give him something for each at the same time. Ibuprofen for headache, Flovent and Albuterol for lungs, and Metamucil crackers with water for gases.

Robert hasn’t felt well since Sunday. I don’t know why.  Did the fresh paint in our stairwell increased his allergy symptoms resulting in constantly running nose and cough?  Was he attacked by viruses or bacteria?

He slept most of the Sunday.  On Monday, he woke up early ready to go to his Program.  He did.  But when he came back he was coughing more, he had difficulties swallowing.  On Tuesday, we went to the doctor.  The doctor stated that it was not strep and didn’t give him antibiotic.  I almost wish she did, as I would rather know what was happening and have a concrete response in place than deal with the vagueness of his symptoms.  I am still not sure if his symptoms are allergy related or caused by virus. I kept Robert home today, as he coughed a lot at night.  He seemed better during the day.  I hoped he would go to his Program tomorrow, but since he resumed coughing when he went to bed I am not sure he should go.

Meantime my throat begun to act out.  It is possible that this is stress.  But maybe not.

July 25, 2015

Two weeks have passed since we painted ceilings in the stairwell and the living room.  Two weeks ago we also painted walls in the living room, but left the stairwell’s walls untouched. As I wrote in the post Painting with Robert that was a difficult day for all of us. We needed time to recover before the next painting session.

I believed that today we had recuperated enough to continue the painting. So we did. Robert brought the plastic sheets to cover stairs.  Jan brought the ladder.  I gathered brushes, edgers, rollers, and paint.  Robert didn’t protest. Not once.  He wasn’t taking anything to the garage without asking first.

Of course, he has his own way of asking.  He would show us an object and say, “Here, here, here?” We have learned to understand those words as, “Can I put this thing (which I have in my hand) away?” Sometimes, we said, “Yes, you can.” Robert took whatever object he had to the garage or furnace room.  Sometimes, we said, “No, we still need it.” and Robert left the thing in the place he took it from.  As Jan was painting the top part of the walls, we kept asking Robert to do many little things – bring this or that, put something away, or find something one of us misplaced. He always did. When Jan removed the ladder, it was Robert’s and mine turn to paint lower parts of the walls. At first, Robert had to be told to work.  He didn’t protest but after covering half of the wall with the paint he said, “Mama, mama” and returned the roller to me. I finished the wall, moved to the next one and called Robert to help again. He came again, painted part of the wall and again called, “Mama, mama.” I decided that Robert helped enough and decided to finish the job myself.  When, however, I was covering the last wall with the paint, Robert came and asked, “Robert, Robert.” He wanted to paint and I let him.

He finished the job by doing his favorite thing – putting everything away. He took all the plastic from the stairs.  He carried the paint to the garage.  He waited until I finish washing each tool and carry every item separately to the proper shelf in the garage. With each object out of sight, he became more and more happy and more and more proud of himself. As he should be.

July 24, 2015

Last Sunday, my husband and I decided to paint the ceilings in the living room and in the staircase. The ceiling in the staircase was high enough to require extended ladder.  Maneuvering the long ladder in a narrow space around the stairs was difficult.  It was even more difficult because Robert was not happy about the whole thing and he made sure we knew how unhappy was he. Very.

His anxiety demonstrated itself by repeated requests that we stop the painting immediately and that we put the ladder back in the garage. We didn’t.  We finished painting the ceiling in the staircase before Robert with his dad folded the ladder and carried it to the garage.  Smaller, a two steps ladder was sufficient  for the living room ceiling. “It should be easier from that time on,” I thought. But it wasn’t. Robert kept bringing living room furniture from the dining room where we temporarily stored most of the items.  It was very, very hard to paint. At some point, I went to the bathroom and cried. I have to admit.  I felt sorry for myself.  I am not ashamed.

Before we decided to paint with Robert, we tried to sign Robert for overnight respite.  But he was not accepted. We considered hiring painters, but discarded that idea as we knew that it would not make it easier.  Robert would be all over the contractors and we would have more, not less, problems trying to keep him away from them.  We had to paint with Robert.

Of course, I could plan it better.  I could do small painting projects with Robert.  Just one wall in his room. Maybe even half of the wall.  We could dress for painting just for 10 minutes. We could move one  dresser to another wall. We could practice using edger or roller or brush. We could.  But we didn’t.

That is why that Sunday afternoon, I cried knowing that Robert was not prepared for many situations that might happen in the future.  He should, at least,  learn to accept them. I cried as I realized I couldn’t prepare Robert for all possible events that could shake Robert’s worlds even more drastically than temporarily  placing a living room chair in the dining room. I was overwhelmed by all possibilities of Robert’s environment being suddenly transformed and nobody helping him to adjust. I was overwhelmed by Robert’s  persistent efforts, lasting two hours or more, to bring things back to the living room which was still being painted.

Surprisingly, Robert agreed to go to Mac Donald with his dad. Surprisingly, because in the past, Robert wouldn’t leave the house in such terrible condition.

I was almost done with the ceiling when Robert and his dad came back.

Robert was calmer, as he noticed signs of wrapping up the painting.  Jan and I kept asking Robert to do small things like taking just one tool to the garage. As he predicted end of this mess in near future, he complied happily.

Soon, however, he felt sort of betrayed when we still didn’t let him bring the furniture back after the painting of the ceiling was done.  I kept telling Robert that on Monday, I would still paint the walls, so all the objects had to remain in  the dining room.  Robert seemed to listen, but when I turned my eyes somewhere else, all the pictures were back on the walls.

“Robert, I said, I am very tired.  Tomorrow, I will have to paint more.   I would have to take all those pictures down and carry them to another room.  That is a lot of work.  Maybe you could help me and do that today.”  As soon as I finished, Robert took all the pictures off the walls and placed them under the dining room table.

Today, as I was describing what happened on Sunday, I was almost surprised by my own despair.  Not because, I didn’t feel very sad that day.  I felt even worse, than my words described. I was surprised, because today, I didn’t feel the same anguish. Its reasons seemed insignificant.   I was left with what was important. And that was the fact that Robert listened to me and  understood the reasons why the picture had to be taken down. he had to imagine the next day.  He had to imagine me taking the pictures. He had to empathize with me.

That was why he allowed the pictures to linger in the living room.

Temporarily.

July 9, 2015

Yesterday, Robert and I were studying together: reading maps, counting perimeters of regular polygons, talking about problem presented in the picture and its possible antecedents, simple analogies, reading a tall tale Pecos Bill and answering questions, and reading a short paragraph supported by four pictures about working as a dining room assistance. Everything was rather uneventful and sort of boring.  It was boring because I (I!) was tired and had difficulties concentrating. We were almost finished when the door bell rang and family’s friends came in.

“Robert, we will take a break”, I said.  Robert didn’t mind. “You can watch IPAD”, I continued.  Then I made a mistake.  I excused myself for a minute and went to replace  my overused  robe with more appropriate attire.  My friends and I went outside to look at the flowers in the yard which I tried unsuccessfully so far, change into a meadow.

Robert protested. He stopped at the door calling. “Mom, mom, mom” . It was a desperate call and nothing I could say or do, would stop it.  Maybe there was something which could defuse those loud, never-ending calls, “Mom, mom, mom”, but I didn’t know what it was.

I didn’t know, because that had never happened before.

Sometimes, when I worked in the yard for too long, Robert would call for me, but usually he didn’t insist when I stated that I had to finish my work.

This time, he was more than persistent. He was desperate, as if the world was falling apart because of my walk outside.

I wanted to continue walking, but at some point the energy dissipated from me completely. The friends left and I returned home.

I thought Robert would calm down.  But he didn’t.  He was agitated about something.  Nonetheless, I asked him to finish two remaining worksheets and Robert complied.  But when we were done, Robert ran to my bedroom and brought back the old robe.  He wanted me to put it back on.

Only then I realized that what made Robert furious  was not the arrival of our friends.  It was not the fact that I went  outside.  It was not the fact that we took an unplanned break from our hour of study.  What made Robert frantically anxious was the fact that I changed my clothes in the way that broke all Robert’s rules governing time and clothes.

Robert changes from pajama to his day clothes in the morning and from day clothes to pajama in the evening. That is all the changing allowed. In special circumstances – dirty clothes or inappropriate clothes  precludes him from going out, Robert makes TEMPORARY adjustments for the occasion. Upon returning home however, he quickly switches to his previous attire even if it is time for a bath and a bed.

Although, I was sure that Robert didn’t mind my, rather chaotic, dressing patterns, obviously that was not the case. Since I was already wearing my comfortable, overused robe which meant unwinding and getting ready for lazy evening, Robert considered my change of clothes to be an anathema to the unspoken rules governing (to my surprise) our family life.

Just a couples weeks earlier, Robert had problems with his dad suddenly changing the pattern of clothes he wore after work.

Well, when I realized that Robert kept extending his dressing rules to his father and now me, I gave Robert a lecture on or personal freedoms.  That freedom include wearing whatever, wherever, and whenever we want.   I reminded him, what I had told him a couple of weeks ago, that each of that decides for himself or herself what we want to wear. Well, to the point.

I repeated this and similar statement  a few times, but I am not sure if Robert was convinced.

July 3, 2015

I waited for Robert near the stairs. He had finished his swimming lesson ten- fifteen minutes before.  It was enough time, to take a shower, dry hair, and dress up.  It was the fourth time he went to men’s locker room by himself. I was  anxious.  After all I couldn’t pick in and check if everything was fine. But here he was, coming up the stairs. His hair half dry and rather disheveled. I tried to flatten them, but Robert avoided my touch. He does that from time to time.

As we walked through the hall, I noticed that he put his white T-shirt backwards as it was visible from under his striped shirt he wore over it.

“Robert, you put your white T-shirt backwards”, I said more to express my surprise than to suggest correction.  I was surprised as it was the first time ever that Robert put his shirt backwards.  My words alerted Robert to the fact that the unthinkable happened and he wanted to remedy that travesty then and there. In the middle of the hallway he attempted to take both his shirts off. “No, no, Robert, you cannot do that here.  you have to go to the restroom.” I kept persuading Robert.  Three times, maybe four.  I pulled him by the hand toward the door.  He followed me to the waiting room and again, in the middle of it, he tried to take his shirts again. “No, no Robert.  You need privacy.  You will change your shirts in the restroom”, I repeated the same phrases two or three times.  Robert reluctantly followed me to the restroom’s door.  He went in and two minutes later he came out, his shirts in order.

I am glad that this incident happened. Although it caused a few electrifying moments, it also gave Robert an opportunity to learn more about privacy and socially acceptable or not acceptable behaviors. He experienced a problem and found proper response to it.  Of course, I don’t know what I would do if he didn’t listen to me but instead change his shirts in the middle of the waiting room. Not a big deal, it seems. Moreover, the people in the waiting room were all watching their children in the pool beneath and were turned backwards to us. 

But it is NOT about possible partial nakedness.  It is about aiming at socially appropriate behaviors.  It is about listening to mother’s advice. And mostly, it is about tolerating the discomfort of knowing that he made a slight mistake for one long minute before correcting it.  I wonder how Robert processed all those difficult undercurrents.

I am not sure if I didn’t point to Robert his backward shirt knowing that it would cause exactly the reaction I witnessed. It is possible that I was curious how Robert would respond.  It is possible that I wanted to learn something about Robert and I wanted to teach him something, even if I didn’t know what those things were.

July 2, 2015

I searched this blog looking in vain for an entry related to my decision, made a few years ago, to skip the whole Unit 5 of Momentum Math because its second chapter required the student not only to know Pythagorean Theorem but also to apply it to find the perimeters of irregular polygons. I chose instead to use Elements of Basic Geometry by Nancy Nichols to review facts known to Robert and introduce new concepts with the book’s simple approach. However, the content of Elements of Basic Geometry didn’t include Pythagorean Theorem.  My goal was to follow this curriculum any way and supplement it with lessons that would slowly prepare Robert for Pythagorean Theorem.

1. Practice counting squares of numbers larger than 10

2. Remembering (or finding a place from which to retrieve) square roots of numbers larger than 100.

3. Learning names of right triangles’ sides (legs and hypotenuse)

4. Reviewing family of facts to help transform Pythagorean equation to find not just the length of hypotenuse but also of  legs.

5. If appropriate, learning to estimate the square roots of numbers.

6. Applying the Theorem to complete problems from Chapter 2 of Unit 5 of Momentum Math.

That was the plan I had years ago. I have never followed through.  I was… scared.  I wasn’t sure if I could teach Robert all the steps I listed above. I was afraid that I would fail to teach Robert.  I was afraid that Robert would fail to learn. This is the fear I have felt many times.  Sometimes I overcame it, sometimes not. That time, I didn’t.  Instead I taught what seemed easy to teach and to learn. Moreover, I forgot about it.

This year, as Robert and I kept redoing Momentum Math curriculum, we got stopped by the same problem and yet again, I returned  Momentum Math back to the shelf and  brought back Elements of Basic Geometry to review and relearn. And as before I decided to “slowly prepare Robert for Pythagorean Theorem”. Exactly like I did before.

The strange thing is, that Robert is capable of learning materials from all the chapters in Unit 5 with the exception of the second.  They are much easier as they include topics Robert has been exposed to already or is even very familiar with.  

July 1, 2015

Not once, I wrote in these posts that Robert had difficulties listening to the stories which were read to them. It is possible that he learned to read so early on – as a way to avoid being read to.

https://krymarh.wordpress.com/2015/01/21/learning-to-listen/ 

Since he could read, there was no reason to read to him. Many times when his father or I started to read a book to him, he took the book from our hands and kept reading himself.  What he understood is another story.

A few years ago, we used Horizon Reading to Learn C-D curriculum.  I used Horizon textbooks and workbooks at home, and the school used it too. we only completed first two textbooks.  I am planning to use that program in the near future again.  Meantime, however, I found Literature Anthology,  a part of Horizon we have never used before. During the last two weeks, I have read Robert one story a day as an exercise in listening. I could call it “guided” listening.  Sometimes I stopped and made a comment as if to myself, sometimes I reread the passage wondering aloud how to understand it. Robert wanted to read himself, but I limited his reading to just one sentence on the page which I dutifully reread. I am not sure what I wanted achieved by doing that.  Today, I read Amelia Bedelia classic story.  Luckily, there were very few sentences on each page but many great, concrete illustrations which explained clearly  the meanings of words the way Amelia understood them.

What Robert understood is another story. I didn’t ask questions to check his comprehension. I didn’t ask because the answers had to be complicated and would require long chain of words Robert would not be able to produce. I settled for Robert staying with me all the time.  I also kept looking at his face trying to deduce from his expression if the story confused him or if he grasped  humor related to Amelia’s literal interpretation of phrases.

Only once I spied a sly half-smile.  Robert looked at the picture of light bulbs hanging outside on the clothesline.  They were put there by Amelia dutifully following the request to put the lights out.

At present, I am only reading  heavily illustrated stories.  I am not sure what images would Robert create on his own.  Illustrations give us common space where it is easier to find a common ground and common meanings.