We are All Learning

Let me just say that I love this kid.  I adore her.  She is an amazing, brilliant, sweet, loving, and just fantastic kid.  But this sweet little sensitive one gave me battles for years until I finally figured out that she wasn’t just trying to be difficult (well, at least most of the time).  She really, truly cannot stand the feeling of a scratchy shirt, a tag in her coat, gloves with the fingers not perfectly straight, the seam in her sheets, the texture of cornbread in her mouth, and certainly not the wrong socks.  Or socks with seams.  Or socks that are too tight.  Or too loose.  Socks that are too tall.  Or too short.  Well, let’s just say socks in general.  My life changed dramatically when I gave up on socks and bought her a pair of crocs.  That is not an exaggeration.  Dramatically.

J practices rhyming words on the white board.

She has come a long way.  We both have.  I had to do a whole lot of adjusting my perspective.  She had to learn a fair amount of “just deal with it.”  We finally reached a place where we can co-exist and not make each other crazy.  I search the globe for tolerable socks, and she agrees to wear them (only in the winter or with a uniform).  I cut out every single tag, she learned to respectfully ask rather that hysterically scream for help with uncomfortable clothing.  Basically, I had to come to the point where I was willing to put in a whole lot of effort, and an equal amount of sympathy.  Likewise, she had to agree to try to control herself and learn to tolerate....just a little at a time.  This has been a 5 year process.  I still have to be patient, allowing extra time for wardrobe adjustments.  But I finally realized my tolerance of her sensitivity is a model for her to tolerate all the things that make her feel out of control.

I’m still learning.  Sometimes I have to step back and look at her issues as a condition, rather than an annoyance.  I find that when I treat it that way, I tend to display an appropriate amount of understanding.  And when I’m understanding, she’s better able to communicate and work together toward a solution.   During this quarantine, she has expressed that the “scritch-scratch of the pencil” makes her cold.  Really? Really.  Writing with a pencil gives her literal goosebumps.  Think nails on a chalk board shivers.  It made me wonder....how on earth does she survive 7 hours at school with pencil in hand?  I hadn’t heard of this until now, since we’ve started schooling at home.  It made me really proud of her, because even though it’s driving her crazy, she’s dealing with it.  And I think if she was having hysterical fits about the pencil “scritch-scratch” at school I’d have heard about it from the teacher.

But for now, I am the teacher, so we discussed a reasonable solutions.  She writes with pencil anything that has to do with handwriting, or needs to be turned in to the teacher.  For everything else, we use a white board or crayon.  There is no sense occupying her mind with the irritation of the pencil when she could write 3 + 5 = 8 in a crayon and be focused on the math.  It’s a happy medium.  And I’m so happy we were able to address it together.

Math time is more successful with a crayon.