"I need help"

It's rare Janey starts saying anything new.  Most of her phrases and words have been with her for years.  When she uses a word or phrase we haven't heard before, it's generally something she heard in a song or on a TV show, and it's not usually used in context.  But the last month or so, we are hearing her say "I need help" all the time.

I'm pretty sure she learned the "I need help" phrase at school.  We've all asked her at home if she needs help, but that would generally translate to her saying "Do you need help?", not using the first person.

It's great to hear her ask for help!  The other day, I was turned the other direction and she said it, and I said "What do you need help with?" and she said "I want my cheese!"  I turned around and she had the cheese block we always have on hand in her hands.  It was an actual conversation, something very rare with Janey, and wonderful to have.

However, as is often the case with Janey, she has started over-generalizing the phrase.  Like "please", she is using it hoping it's literally a magic thing to say.  If it's the middle of the night and we say she can't watch TV, she says "I need help!  TV on!" although she's quite capable of turning on the TV herself, and she's asking for permission, not help.  If we say no to anything, her new first answer is often "I need help!"  It's better than a scream, but a scream comes next if it doesn't work.

I've read about overgeneralizing in speech.  It's a common phase for toddlers to go through, at around age 2.  It makes sense.  Janey in most ways operates about like a 2 year old.  But lately, I am seeing signs of her slow progression to new stages.  One big thing I've been noticing is her experimenting with the world around her in ways I haven't seen before.  We got pool noodle type things to put along the edges of her bed, because we kept banging our shins on it.  She took one off, and then used it above her head to try to touch the ceiling.  We have very high ceilings, and she didn't quite succeed, but it was the kind of play I've almost never seen her do.  A few days ago, she reached over and rolled down the car window (yes, we still have old style windows in the car!)  I had no idea she even knew how to do that, or that if she did, she would be motivated enough to try it.  It's not a great thing to have her doing, as she has several times tossed things out open car windows, but it was cool to see!

I get excited about Janey's progress.  I think it can be easy to lose that excitement that we would normally feel about a child doing new things when the child in question is getting ever closer to no longer really being a child.  As the  years go on, though, I do very little comparing of Janey to "normal".  She is on a whole separate path.  Part of the not comparing is because if I did compare, I would probably fall into despair.  That's what can happen sometimes when I read news or magazine articles that talk about a child with "delays" or with "significant cognitive problems" or so on, and then read about what that child can do and think "THAT'S a delay? I don't even know WHAT they would call Janey's abilities!"  But the other part of it is learning to delight in Janey as she is, to rejoice in every "I need help" or reach for the ceiling or rolled down window.  Tony and I have said so many times this summer that if we could have seen how Janey is doing lately as compared to a few years ago, we'd be very happy, and as I knock frantically on wood, I will close with that.

In The Driver's Seat (Guest post by Janey's daddy!)

For the first time ever, my husband Tony wrote a guest post!  It's written as a letter to Janey, to show appreciation of the changes that have allowed us to travel a bit more lately.

Thank you, Janey!

For the past four months, Janey, you have allowed me to be in the driver's seat of Daddy's car. Almost every day, I take you on at least one car ride, because you want me to play music for you in my car's disc player. This is something you have wanted me to do since you came home from the hospital, after you were very, very sick from your appendix bursting.

You like these car rides with our music that I play for you so much that you seem to also enjoy your bus rides to school in the morning and the afternoon bus rides when you come home from school.  A lot of times you run happily onto the bus in the morning, and Mama tells me that you run off the bus all happy in the afternoon and bolt right into the house.

Daddy's car rides with our music seem to make you so happy, even after you have been very angry or sad, that your brother William said to me, after he came along with us once, "wow, it's like giving Janey medicine." 

Most times our drives together are about an hour long, but sometimes, you and Daddy like the music so much that we drive for two or three or more hours. You hear some songs, like Santana's "Soul Sacrifice" from Woodstock in 1969, or The Ventures' "Wipe Out" from Tokyo in 1966, and you soon look like a humming bird as you drum your arms so fast out of happiness that they become a blur!  Sometimes Daddy and Mama think that our old car is breaking but it's really just you dancing and rocking so fast in the back seat!

And when we drove far away to take Freddy to his new school in New York, and to Maine to see Nana, Grandpa, and Aunt Sarah, you were so nice and happy in the car with our music playing, even when we were stuck for a long time in silly Massachusetts' traffic! And you were so good and happy in the hotel houses we stayed in.

And Janey, you put a big smile on Daddy's face whenever you come up to me now and say the first words of a song you want to hear on the next car ride, like, "You want to hear "generals gathered in their masses"?" That song is called "War Pigs" by Black Sabbath, which you like because your brother William has played it on his guitar and sang for many years in his room.

Mama has made you many music discs and put songs on your iPod since you were a little girl that we now play in the car, like "Angels We Have Heard on High" and Johnny Cash's funny song "In the Jailhouse now." And Janey, when you want to hear "Folsom Prison Blues" and you make your voice sound lower and say "hi, I'm Johnny Cash," you do that so well! We play songs "Beat It" and "Bad" from the disc Freddy gave to you for Christmas.  And you laugh a lot when daddy plays Weird Al's "Eat It" and "Fat." Daddy laughed so loudly when you said to me "you ain't fat, you ain't nothing!"

Janey, I hope we don't get too much snow this winter, because I still like to drive you around!

Again, thank you, Janey!

Good Old-Fashioned Crying Night

I must have a huge ability to put bad times out of my head.  Maybe it's something that you develop with special needs parenting, so you can go on and face each new day.  If Janey goes a few weeks without a huge crying spell, I can almost let myself think it will not happen any more, despite all evidence to the contrary.  I can let the harsh edges of the last time soften in my mind.  I guess Janey felt I needed a reminder, as tonight was a good ol' cryfest.  It was probably my fault.  I had library books I needed to pick up after I got her at after-school.  She seemed okay, and she had a snack in the car, so I thought we could risk it.  She was good in the library (I just go to the desk and pick up books I have ordered).  She even said "thank you" to the nice librarian who gave her a rubber bracelet for being good (they know her and are better with her all the time, one of the reasons I always go to the same branch at the same time).  But as soon as we got back in the car, she freaked out.  I think it started because I didn't take her to the CVS for a treat after the library. I hadn't said I was going to---I'm trying to gradually phase that out, so I only do it every other time or so.  But Janey I think knew things were off.  She didn't say anything, but stood for a while at the door before getting in the car, as if to say "Forgetting something?"  If she had asked verbally, I probably would have taken her.  But it was getting late and I didn't.  She started screaming in the car, which is a half hour of screaming while driving in stressful areas.  She screamed in the house, despite Tony giving her everything she wanted for supper and then also getting her a Happy Meal.  She screamed pretty much non-stop until she fell asleep.  I mean SCREAMED---with a loud, loud voice.  It doesn't take much of that until I'm a wreck.  I try to be totally calm, to talk to her calmly, to rub her back or encourage her to take deep breathes, to understand what is wrong and try to fix it.  But none of it works, pretty much ever.  And all my theories and good feelings and understanding becomes hard to access, and I just want her to stop.  I go numb, saying the right words to her while in my mind going to some far away place where she isn't screaming. The boys get upset---they can't work.  They go elsewhere to do their homework.  Tony and I can't talk.  Even the cats get spooked.  It's a long night.  It's a crying night.  And I hope like heck it's an isolated night.