Every six months or so, we take Fluffy up to see our RDI consultant for an RDA, a three-day assessment that gauges Fluffy’s developmental strengths and challenges, specifically, confirming the current stage and clarifying which objectives have been mastered and which are still on the table.
As I reported back in February at the last RDA, there was a point during which Fluffy was being led through various games and activities in one room while Dave and I, in another room, watched the interactions on the video monitor screen. Every time Fluffy struggled, Dave would turn to me, deadpan, and say, “He’s not going to make it.” Every time Fluffy connected, Dave would turn in the same blank way and say, “He’s going to be fine.”
He knew he was being funny. He knew he was being absurd. And I appreciated it, this short hand way of summing up our collective anxiety about our son’s progress and future as well as our simultaneous acknowledgment that developmental, despite the brilliance and thoroughness of the RDI approach with its 12,000 measurable objectives, often charts its own circuitous course, that neurological expressions of ‘okay’ are not discrete destinations points on a map that one plots in a linear, premeditated manner.
But as much as I don’t think we, as human beings, ever really quite get there, we don’t arrive, we aren’t casseroles, timers don’t go off signaling we’re done, as much as I truly believe that we are becoming all the time no matter the age, moving toward inner and outer destinations, we parents want something for our children. We want them to have their own full lives. We need to know we are helping them get there, as close to there as they’re going to get. We want and need to feel effective, competent. And to do this, one has to hold both the reality of who they, our children, might be as much as the vision of who we believe they can be. Because who can really know who anyone really is?
I think I know who Fluffy is, but do I? Or do I know some things and intuit other things and make up the rest?
I don’t know. I just know that what I’m going through lately can be summed up by Dave’s two sentences: He’s going to be fine. He’s not going to make it. I can flip back and forth several times in a day. When I’m in the former, I’m golden. When I’m in the latter, I’m in a mine field of my own anxiety.
I’ve come a long way from the panic mode of the early days. Life here at Fluffy Central is breezy by comparison. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say I still struggle with my own worry, worry about Fluffy’s future, worry about my own ability to give him what he needs and find others to provide what I can’t. I struggle with staying in the present with what is actually happening, teasing out my own projection from Fluffy’s very in the moment concerns and how to address them calmly and with confidence.
The other day was hard. Dave was out of town. Fluffy was dysregulated. All attempts to reregulate fell flat. The sitter came and left; Fluffy bounced off the walls, yelled and threw spit bombs. I strapped on our bike helmets for a late afternoon ride on the trailgater together. The tires were flat. I couldn’t find the pump. Fluffy slammed the door open and closed, over and over. I began to feel panicky. He’s not getting what he needs. What if I never figure out how to give him what he needs? I threw the helmets down, stomped into the house, upturned every basket on our shelf yelling, WHERE’S THE GEE DEE PUMP? I’M GETTING FRUSTRATED! FLUFFY! STOP IT! STOP BANGING THAT DOOR!
Fluffy tore inside and went right to his room. I calmed down. He calmed down. He came out and we went to my mom’s for dinner. On the way over, I apologized for yelling, said I lost self-control. He said, and these are all direct quotes because as soon as I got to my mom’s, I grabbed pad and pen and scribbled it down:
That’s okay mommy, I have something called a Break Section. I used that. Sometimes when you lose self control or when I’m upset, I use my Break Section. It’s a place in my mind. When I go there, I’m a million miles away.
Wow, I said.
Yes. I developed it when I was five. I didn’t tell you about it. It wasn’t as powerful then and I didn’t have a name for it and I didn’t use it as often. But I had it.
Wow, I said again. I’m so interested in your Break Section.
Yes. When I’m in my Break Section, I do hear what you’re saying but you want to know why I don’t always answer you? Because I’m busy being in my Break Section. Not talking makes my Break Section work more powerfully.
Is that where you go when you’re in your room?
Yes. I like to lie down on the bed. I can do it sitting up but it’s more powerful when I let my muscles go, when I give in to gravity. I like to lie down so I don’t have to work my muscles at all. It works better when I’m very comfortable.
When do you go to your Break Section?
When I want to feel good or to calm down. Mom, do you have a Break Section? You should have a Break Section. It helps you get through life. You know what it does, mom? A Break Section helps you deal with what you’ve got.
Wow.
There’s only one sentence. I’m gonna write it in the palm of my hand like the answers to a scary test question so I can look at it every time I get nervous: Fluffy is going to be fine. He’s already fine.
But I’m not going to make it unless I work on my Break Section.
There you go again, describing exactly what I often feel....
Posted by: March Day | July 27, 2007 at 01:39 AM
I love the break section, love as always the way Fluffy is able to articulate what's going on for him.
The back-and-forth reminds me a little of Anne Lamott's radio station k*fkd (in Bird by Bird, I don't have my copy to hand, but you might?). It makes sense to try to tune it out.
Off to my break section.
Posted by: Anamaria | July 26, 2007 at 09:52 PM
Given that our son is 19 and Lovas (ABA)was our only mantra for several years,we had to re-evaluate how RDI could polish off the edges of his automoton-like responses. It's like teaching an old dog new tricks.
Having said that, his intellect is sometimes wise to the jive, and we were in the supermarket recently, he wanted pineapple juice. I asked him to find it. He said that he didn't see it... I waited. He said well, there just isn't any.. I said that I did see it. (The wait was endless...I wanted to get home..I could have just grabbed the juice) I waited. He repeated that there wasn't any. I worried that he might yell, in the supermarket. I waited. I said I see it. He said for me to go get it. I said he should get it. Finally, with all of his therapist-induced language: "Why don't you just try REFERENCING it!"
It was at that moment, that I needed the Break Section, not from frustration, but to shed a few tears and a laugh or two.
x
resilientmom
Posted by: resilientmom | July 26, 2007 at 10:30 AM
Wow Fluffy! That is awesome. I think we'll all make it if we listen to him. Thanks Kyra. That's just brilliante!
Posted by: mothersvox | July 26, 2007 at 08:50 AM
Love that Dave. Love that Fluffy. Love his brazilliance.
Love you.
Posted by: drama mama | July 25, 2007 at 11:13 PM
I'm glad you're posting again about you and the amazing, articulate, deep-thinking Fluffy. I missed you. I tried to comment on the "blocked" post, and tried to email, and felt utterly incapable, because I feel the same way--I want another baby, my husband doesn't (maybe he'll change his mind? who knows), but who am I to complain? I have two. So I never managed the comment, or the email. But I am sorry for your sadness, which is the main point.
Posted by: amy | July 25, 2007 at 08:36 PM
I love this post. I love the break section. I love knowing that I am not the only mother out there flipping back and forth between "he's okay/he's not going to make it" about 75,000 times a day.
Go give Fluffy a big hug for me. He's one smart little guy.
Posted by: kristen | July 25, 2007 at 06:09 PM
Wow, that Fluffy is one deep little guy. Holy Sh**. A break section? What amazes me is his articulation of the complexities of it and why he doesn't answer and so forth. He's HOW OLD going on 40? Yeah, I definitely need a break section...'cause I think I broke today.
Posted by: Niksmom | July 25, 2007 at 02:46 PM
So perfect! Exactly how we feel about Scott, he's OK, he's not. I am always thinking "what is he not getting", but, maybe when he tunes me out when I am crazy he is actually coping better. His own Break Section. Boy do I need one. Thanks, Fluffy for teaching us all and thank you Kyra for sharing!
Posted by: Lori at Spinning Yellow | July 25, 2007 at 02:25 PM
You know what? I think Fluffy watches you too, alternatively going "she'll be fine" and "she won't make it".
Posted by: Dimitra | July 25, 2007 at 02:13 PM
Amazing, a break section, huh! That is just the coolest thing I have heard in a very long time. Thanks for sharing.
Posted by: Jenn | July 25, 2007 at 01:28 PM