A hard day

Yesterday? Yesterday was hard.

I took Frances to school. As we walked past the cubbies, she noticed each one had an invitation to a party. When we got to hers, she discovered that she didn’t have one.

“I don’t have one,” she said as students gathered near her while talking about the exciting party to which they had been invited.

It was getting to be a challenge to tune the other kids out after a while.

“Frances didn’t get an invitation,” I said to the group. “So maybe you should stop talking about the party right beside her?”

They resorted to whispering as I emptied Frances’s school bag.

“Frances isn’t invited because she’s too bossy,” the birthday boy whispered. Frances didn’t overhear, fortunately.

“I rarely get invited to parties,” she said sadly.

The school really discourages the exclusion of children from parties if it’s more than two children being invited.

In this case? All of Frances’s classmates (except for the grade ones) had been invited except her.

After school, she said, “I don’t understand. I thought he was my friend. I’m the only one who doesn’t tease him.”

So, we had a conversation, which included Pink Cup Sister, about how to know if someone’s your friend or not.

Broke. my. heart.

(While I did point out to her that she didn’t invite this particular boy to her party — just a few girls — she then pointed out that she didn’t invite all of her peers except him. I had told her not to talk about her party (which is the school policy) and I emailed the parents of invited kids in order to be discreet. I just wish the boy’s parents had been more discreet.)

Achieving goals

The Pink Cup household is never boring. There is always a bustle of busy-ness around here. 

But, it is important to note change when it occurs, and there have been some pretty positive goals achieved in the past couple of months:

  • Frances will get her own breakfast now if I’m sick
  • Frances reluctantly agrees to take showers
  • Frances showers without any assistance 
  • Frances reluctantly agrees to wash her hair
  • Frances washes her hair without assistance
  • Frances reluctantly agrees to stay in rooms by herself 
  • Frances reluctantly stays in rooms by herself 

Though she is having trouble adjusting to big changes in her classroom, there is definitely more independence as she approaches her 10th birthday this month.

An unexpected change

Frances had a bit of shock yesterday: her teacher, who is due to give birth in April, has to go on bed rest; so, today is her last day.

Frances is presently in a multi-age classroom, from grades one to four; next September, she will be graduated to the grades five to eight class.

The teacher wouldn’t have been her teacher next September. So, Frances has been prepared for an eventual change, but the rapid changes next week will mean a difficult transition for Frances. 

The transition will primarily involve changes in her behaviour: she doesn’t tell us when she has anxiety (by which she is highly affected). She is exceedingly verbal, and, as she ages, she is able to communicate emotions and states of mind better, but we still rely on looking at her behaviour to know how much anxiety and difficulty that she is experiencing. 

So, I’m just crossing my fingers that next week won’t be as difficult for her as I think it probably will be.

Snowman

Winters are cold here. While I wouldn’t say that spring is in the air, today is actually quite nice at -2C with noticeable sunshine.

Increasingly, Frances asks to play outside on the weekends and after school.

She ended up making a snowman on her own this past weekend.

The new ABA group

Frances was near crying as the other girls of her ABA (applied behaviour analysis) group walked into the reception area.

“I’m not going,” she told me.

“I don’t want to go somewhere without you,” she said. She was pouting.

“You didn’t consult me. You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to do this,” she reminded me.

The ABA interventionist/group leader tried to talk to her, but Frances buried her face into my coat.

Then the group leader uttered the magic words:

“We have dolls!”

Frances looked up. “OK,” she said. “And Barbies?”

The kid didn’t even look back at me as she walked down the hall. 

That was last month, and she has only grumbled a bit beforehand since then; there’s a much smoother transition now.

Text support

Frances went to a sleepover this weekend involving two of her classmates. I was worried that she wouldn’t make it through the event, and, frankly, I waited for a call requesting that I pick her up. 

Fortunately, the sleepover parents were really good about letting Frances have her wifi-only phone in the room with her during the night.

This meant that she could text me which she did, at around 11:30 p.m., to let me know that she couldn’t sleep.

She asked me to text her a story about her favourite horse (as I make up a story every night at home) and I did. 

When I woke up the next morning, I checked my phone and found this text. It made me smile so much that my face hurt!


I’m so grateful for texting!

(I have to say that I’m also grateful that the host parents are very good with Frances! They have experience with Aspergers and high anxiety and are very sensitive to Frances’s needs, so allowing her to go to a sleepover hasn’t been as hard for me as it could be.)

A fine line

I went into Frances’s school with concerns that a boy in her class was having angry outbursts and making her feel unsafe.

The school denied that he was having outbursts, and they didn’t think Frances was in any danger.

I mentioned a recent incident in which Frances was hit by a ball thrown by him.

A witness says he merely threw the ball with the expectation that Frances would catch it. 

So, here is the problem: Frances has great difficulty discerning motive or intention in others. (It was first noticeable during her year of junior kindergarten, and it has not changed in degree or severity during these past five years.)

If a kid brushes past her in the hallway, she thinks it was done on purpose. Every. Single. Time. If someone walks past her table and causes a crayon to fall off, she thinks it was done intentionally. Every. Single. Time. 

You can reason with her and explain the events as accidents, but she won’t believe you. She actually doesn’t know why someone did something, and thinking the worst, in a way, protects her. (It’s not hard to imagine the ways in which someone who doesn’t read motive in others could be led into danger.)

So, you can understand how she might not have known that the boy intended to include her in a game of catch.

People, social situations, interactions, expectations, and rules: they confuse and frighten my daughter.

As a mother, you want your child to be believed and to know that she is believed; however, when your child has ASD with this particular challenge, you walk a fine line with everyone: (1) you can’t accuse the teachers of lying, and (2) you can’t tell your child that something she experienced didn’t really happen.

What did I do? I concluded that, regardless of the reality, Frances needs to feel safe, and we came up with a plan of action that Frances can take when she doesn’t feel safe at school.

Then, I went home and cried. 

When Frances got home, I made no mention of her ongoing experiences with the boy, but I told her of the plan that she can use when she doesn’t feel safe for any reason.

Then, for much of the night, I wondered who was right. 

Independence 

In our ongoing quest to help Frances with issues of separation, her behavioural therapist has her reading for an hour without me in the room every night. 

She has a chart, and for every night that she completes the hour she earns 5 points. Those points, at certain increments, can be saved and cashed in for rewards.

So far, it is not going too badly; however, I do find every once in a while that I’ll feel as if someone is watching me. I’ll look over and find her in her typical posture — arms around knees — looking up at me from the floor of the room that she’s in. She’ll have migrated from the bed with impressive silence. She’ll say she is lonely or that she misses me. She’ll say she wants a hug (and we’ll hug and cuddle).

Times like this remind me of her very sweet disposition.

On the piñata

Today, at camp, Frances is supposed to be making piñatas. Sounds fun, right?

She has been talking about it for the past couple of days, and only this morning did I realize that she hasn’t been informing us as much as she has been expressing anxiety.

Pink Cup Dad and I tried unsuccessfully to convince her of how much fun she would have. 

She asked, “Do you know how many children get knocked out at birthday parties every year because of piñatas?”

“Exactly zero,” I assured her. “Besides, you’re just making them at this point, and that certainly isn’t dangerous.”

Eventually, we gave up trying to change her mind as we arrived at the day camp and just told her how to avoid getting hit with a stick when it comes time to bash them.