Teaching Sydney (or TRYING to)

Impulse control. You probably have not thought much about how important it is to people unless you are close to someone who has very little self-control. The frontal lobe of your brain is the part that helps you stop yourself from doing or saying the inappropriate things that you think about. Believe me, impulse control is extremely important. Without it a person will constantly be in danger. They will break rules and laws. They will lie. They will lose friends as fast as they make them. THEY DO NOT LEARN FROM THEIR MISTAKES.

The frontal lobe of a person’s brain is damaged when they are exposed to alcohol in the womb. Fetal Alcohol Syndrome is 100 percent preventable. A huge percentage of the people in our prisons have FAS. It is no wonder. When you have FAS you barely stand a chance in our society. Sure, many of the children are adopted into homes with good parents. But, mom and dad can keep a child safe for only so long. They do grow up and they still have FAS. They still have no impulse control and they still need constant supervision.

Sydney’s lack of impulse control affects us every day. It shows up in so many ways. Sometimes it is funny but usually it is not. This morning I told her to stay in her room until 9:00 while I showered and dressed. She came into my room at 8:55 and said, “It’s 9:00.” Me, knowing I had five more minutes said, “It is?” She responded, “No, not really.” Then she asked me where her popcorn was from last night. I told her it was in the kitchen. She said, “I just looked.” I said, “So you left your room?” She said, “No I didn’t leave my room but I went into the kitchen to look for the popcorn and it wasn’t there.” She tattles on herself quite often and then talks in circles trying to fix what she uncovered, contradiction in every sentence. Sometimes I think she believes I am an idiot. Sometimes it is hard not to laugh right out loud when i should be scolding her too.

A few days ago she had lifesavers and was trying to open the packaging. She was with her daddy in his truck. He asked what she had and she quickly responded, “Oh, you wouldn’t like these” trying to convince him that she shouldn’t have to share. She forced the package open and dropped the first one in the floor. She said a word that society would not consider a curse word but one our family does not use. Shawn frowned at her and shook his head saying, “We do not say that.” She immediately tried to convince him that he heard wrong and what she REALLY said was “I’m missing out on that one.” He managed to keep a straight face, barely.

Doctors have told me that Sydney will not learn from her mistakes and I have seen that consequences do not really teach her much but I keep trying. A few mornings ago I told Sydney she could go upstairs and play Nintendo in her sister’s room if she did not wake her brothers who were asleep in their rooms close by. She assured me she would be as quiet as a mouse. She went upstairs and two minutes later I heard her singing at the top of her lungs. I told her she could not play Nintendo for a few days. She can tell me WHY she cannot play Nintendo and she can tell me she won’t do something like that again but she will. I know she will.

Sydney loves flip-flops. Flip-flops are almost as important to her as the air she breathes. The winter months when I hide them (yes I have to HIDE them) are torturous to her. A week before school was out we had a cold rainy morning. Sydney was very upset that I wouldn’t let her wear her flip-flops. I insisted she wear socks and shoes and take a sweatshirt. She asked if she could take her flip-flops in her backpack. I told her she could not. She asked why. I explained again that it was a cold day and I wanted her feet to be warm. When I picked her up at the end of the day, she was wearing flip-flops. It didn’t even occur to me she would have snuck them into her backpack. I have watched her do things like this for nine years and it still shocked me that she would openly disobey like that and not anticipate any consequences. I took all her flip-flops and put them up for a week. I believe it was the longest week of her life and she cried about it several times. Will she learn from it? Well, I know she will REMEMBER it but I do not think it would deter her from doing it again.

This past weekend we went to a little rodeo in a small town nearby. There was a fenced-in play area with four of those big bouncy houses and slides next to the arena. Five dollars got you a ticket to come and go all evening. Several times throughout the evening I allowed Sydney to go jump for five or ten minutes. The medication she takes for ADHD had long worn off and sitting in the stands was asking too much of her. (See? I’m a reasonable person.) It was hard to keep track of her among all the kids coming and going out of those houses but I managed. The last trip in, I watched as she ran over to a mom with a toddler. Sydney LOVES babies and I predicted quite accurately what I was about to witness. I was not close enough to intervene before it happened though! The mom was helping the toddler bounce on a corner of one of the play sets. Sydney crowded in between the child and her mother and tried to take over as caregiver. The mother was so surprised she actually turned the toddler over to Sydney for a few seconds before she realized what she’d done and regained custody of her baby. I grabbed Sydney and was too flustered to come up with words. This time I asked her Dad to explain what she had done and why it was inappropriate. He did. She listened but I honestly do not think she understood a single word about why it was not okay to walk up to a stranger and try to take their baby away from them. Sigh.

At the rodeo

Last evening I witnessed her doing a similar thing but it was not with a baby (thank goodness). A friend of ours was over and playing a hand held game when Sydney came over and crowded right it. She began touching the screen and intervening in the game without an invitation. If I had not stopped her she’d have had that video game in her own lap or been in the lap of our guest with her own body between that game and the owner. I can explain and explain but she just cannot help herself. If she sees something she wants, there is no willpower for her to use against those desires. I can only imagine what her teen years and adult life will be like. It is a constant worry for me.

I know Sydney can learn rules and abide by some of them but I’m not sure why some are easier for her to obey than others. We have a pool and she never goes near it unless she is given permission. She is able to behave herself (for the most part) during worship services. She doesn’t hit other people or tantrum. She is polite most of the time. Her ability to abide by some rules and not others has to have something to do with her ability to plan. There is that frontal lobe again. Being able to think ahead to the consequences of your actions based on past mistakes is controlled by that frontal lobe. Impulse control is managed by the frontal lobe. Rules seem so much harder for her to obey when there are other children involved. She can go a long time without getting into any real trouble but add a peer and she is going to find all kinds of ways to make that kid holler. She’s quick at finding ways to push their buttons. She invades their space. She plays much better with children younger than her. A six year old is almost perfect, but only one, not two. Although she is ten, age six is about the level she functions at herself. We are so lucky in that we live out in the country. A neighborhood full of children (and adults) would have brought so many challenges with it and so many dangers. Sydney’s playmates are her family members. Oh, and a dog, several cats, two calves, and a gentle old horse. She spends hours outside with those animals and her dolls. Sydney’s imagination is one of the most active I have ever known. Our dog and one of those calves have an amazing bond with Sydney. They do not care how many times she invades their space or how much she talks or how loudly she talks.

Sydney and Pepper

We almost never say “no” when Sydney wants something to eat. Number one: her preferred foods are healthy. Number two: the doctor tells us to push her to eat because she needs to gain some weight. Sydney still tries to hide food and lie about food. I have told her over and over there is no need because she can eat almost anything she wants, anytime she wants. One of the only rules I have is: no food the bedrooms. I often do find food and wrappers and dishes in her room but I do not impose any consequences for it. These issues surely cannot be from her memories of the orphanage when she was probably hungry, because she has no memories of the orphanage. But food issues could stem from anxieties, according to her doctor. I cannot imagine trying to live without the ability to fully control my impulses. What a confusing place the world would be. Trying to understand the rules and abide by them without the damage to your brain is hard enough sometimes when you are little. This little girl has a disability that was 100% preventable. Alcohol to a brain is poison and exposing an unborn baby to alcohol is unconscionable.

Past articles about Sydney: Saturday Morning with Sydney and Life with Sydney

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Heart Attacks and Loose Teeth

Sydney has become more aware of her peers and their opinions this year.  Because of her lack of impulse control and her inability to determine right from wrong due to the Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS), it can be pretty concerning. I always request that Sydney be exposed to positive peer models and the amount of time spent with children who have behavioral issues be minimized, but in a public school setting this is not always possible. Sydney has been acquiring lots of interesting knowledge this year to say the least. The school year began with her coming home with gravel in her pockets. She believed those ordinary rocks to be valuable.  It seems a boy on the playground told her they were fossils because they had little bits of color in them. When I asked what they were fossils of she explained the boy claimed they were the knee bones of Indians. That was the first week of school so I knew from the start it was going to be a very exciting school year. The same boy has given her a lot of “facts” about dinosaurs, insects, and weather that are not exactly accurate too.  I’m not sure if he believes the stuff he tells her or if he just makes it up as he goes along, silently laughing as my gullible daughter soaks it all up.

The most recent bit of misinformation that Sydney believes to be true is something she learned from a little girl in her math group. Apparently, a person can die of a heart attack if they are exposed to too much math in one sitting. This little girl claims her own dearly departed grandmother suffered “death by multiplication tables”. I’m having a hard time convincing Sydney that it couldn’t happen. 

Another tooth gone

The same sweet little darling classmate lost a tooth last week. Sydney could not be outdone. She came home and insisted she needed to take out a tooth. Unfortunately, there were no loose teeth in Sydney’s mouth. She wanted me to help her get one of her front teeth out and I explained it was a permanent tooth. She said, “I don’t mind. I don’t want that one.” It took two days of prodding and wiggling, but she found a baby tooth with just a little play in it and she got it out. It still had quite a bit of root on it and left a large hole but she was thrilled. She’d lost a tooth just like her friend. The reason she has so few teeth left to lose? This actually wasn’t the first time something like this had happened. In kindergarten and first grade the teachers had charts for the students to add a sticker to if they lost a tooth. Sydney loved the attention that came with putting a sticker on the chart so much she was willing to suffer the pain of pulling teeth that really were not yet ready to be pulled. The alcohol Sydney’s birth mother consumed while pregnant really did a number on Sydney’s threshold of pain.

Sydney has come home with some very entertaining stories lately. With help from her teacher, I’ve been able to unravel a few mysteries. Sometimes Sydney’s stories are like onions and I have to peel back a few layers to really get a good picture. Sydney and a friend were disciplined at school a couple of weeks ago for name calling in the classroom. The two girls had been picking on some of the boys. Sydney’s teacher wrote a note on the weekly calendar that the students bring home each week to let me know that Sydney had been in trouble. I never saw the note. When the teacher looked for my reply the next day, she saw it had been erased! I spoke very seriously with Sydney about it. Sydney claimed she did not erase the note. Her friend and partner in crime did it. I am pretty sure there is a “Leave it to Beaver” episode in this story somewhere.

Because of the name-calling incident, Sydney’s teacher decided the two girls would be better off sitting further apart and she moved their desks. Sydney confided to me right after school that day that the two girls had a plan to right “the injustice” of such a “cruel” punishment. They were going to DEMAND a meeting with the teacher the next morning and insist she allow them to be reunited. Sometimes it is very hard to keep a straight face when Sydney is telling me these things. I find third grade drama extremely funny. I could hardly wait to hear the next installment when I picked her up the following day. I had emailed the teacher to warn her of the coup attempt so she was ready for them. I so wish I could have been a fly on the wall during the girls’ plea for justice. Sydney never did understand why their demands were not met.

 

I’ve been overjoyed this school year because Sydney is making friends. Last year she was shunned by the girls in her class and bullied by the boys. This year she has had fewer of those sad sagas and is a lot happier. I suppose it could partially be the personalities of the different students in her class this year but I also see her maturing. She still has all the same disabilities but she is gaining some “street smarts” that she really needed. I know public school takes a mom’s innocent little five year old, exposes them to all kinds of words and ideas that they would be better off not knowing. I’m not really glad that Sydney or any of my other kids have ever come home to ask me what some filthy word meant. I’m not really happy that Sydney or any of my other kids have ever come home to tell me a filthy joke that they did not understand the meaning of. Those kinds of things I WISH I could have sheltered all my kids from.  However, by age ten, Sydney should have caught on by now that others do not always have her best interest at heart and that sometimes following other people blindly will get her into trouble. The FAS left her with so little impulse control, she has a difficult time thinking before she acts. If a classmate suggests an activity (even one she has been warned about), she does not (cannot) stop and consider the consequences usually. I believe she is beginning to develop some self-control that we have not seen before. So, I suppose when I count my blessings I should count her peers (even the ones with questionable intentions) as a blessing to us.

Here's a similar post if you want another great post: "Just Another Day in Paradise."

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Saturday Morning With Sydney

Weekday mornings I usually wake Sydney but on the weekends, she is often up before the sun, even if she is allowed to stay up late the night before. Almost every Saturday and Sunday morning that I try to sleep in an extra hour, we go through a similar chaotic scenario. She leaves her room early and goes and wakes the kids upstairs who would like to sleep-in. She gets into the pantry and feeds herself a variety of interesting things, often hiding some of these things under her pillow “for later.” (See my past blogpost about hoarding.) She cannot stick to anything for more than a few minutes until after her medication begins to work so she might play a video game for a few minutes, dump a bucket or two of toys, undress a doll, get a movie going in her little dvd player and immediately abandon it, check to see if I am awake and jump on my bed a minute, while asking a dozen questions but not waiting for a single answer.  Sydney’s room opens both into the hall and into my room. We designed the house that way so I would have a nursery connected to our room. It has come in very handy. On the weekends I usually remember to block the door to the hall so Sydney has to come through my room and I can intercept her. I forgot last night. Shawn heard her get up and gave her permission to go to the bathroom, with the very clear instructions that she should go BACK to her room immediately after. Shawn got in the shower and I dozed back off. I woke ten minutes later and figured I’d better check on Sydney. The first place I looked was her room but I have no idea why. It is a mystery to me why I have any faith left in her ability to follow an instruction. After all this time, and all these mornings gone-wrong, I still expect her to obey. I still am surprised when she has not followed the directions she is given. Why? I have often heard: “insanity can be defined as doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” Am I insane? I know that definition would actually apply to a science experiment proving the laws of gravity or something much more concrete than the whims of a child. However, this morning when I looked in Sydney’s room, hoping to find her playing quietly or reading in bed, I told myself that I must be insane looking there first.  I knew I would be more likely to find her upstairs in a sibling’s room, jumping on them while they protested, or digging in the pantry for something. Is it that I am only giving her the “benefit of the doubt” or that I am hopeful? Is it insanity?

I went into the dining room, calling her name. She didn’t answer. She was hiding behind the pantry door in the kitchen. She had a mouth full of food, and an American flag in her hand. The flag is one of Levi’s prized possessions. It came from a classroom at the Vinland school that was closed and abandoned. (Insanity abounds in this world.) The kids and I had helped the teachers pack up their classrooms and Levi had scored big when one of the teachers offered him the old, faded flag from the classroom. The flag in her hand proved to me she had already been upstairs. One of the rules at our house is that she can only go upstairs if she asks permission. Insanity struck me again, and I asked her:  “Have you been upstairs?” I expected the truth but she shook her head “no.” I said, “Sydney, I know you have been upstairs because you have Levi’s flag. Tell me the truth. Have you been upstairs?” She slowly shook her head “yes.”  I have many frustrations with all this. Is she able to give me the truth but afraid of the consequences? Is she always just going to give me the answer she THINKS I want to hear because she just wants to avoid conflict or make me happy? Is she unable to give me the truth because of her disability? Is this totally because of the lack of impulse control due to the Fetal Alcohol Syndrome? I do know it is NOT because of lack of parenting, love, or discipline. Discipline of any kind has not been effective. Spankings, time-outs, lost privileges or toys, and lectures do no good. Positive reinforcement, hugs, and love have not made a dent in the behaviors either. We tried a morning chart with gifts for 3 good mornings and it took her a month to earn one gift. Of course, consistency is needed and we have been as consistent as possible through all the uproar she creates. Sydney is able to control her actions to a certain degree once her medication has taken effect. Even then, though, she cannot seem to control her impulses to correct her peers or to pester those around her. 

After I found Sydney this morning, took the flag from her, lectured her about her disobedience and how important it is to answer me when I call, I made sure she had something to eat and her pills. Then I watched her and waited for her pills to do their job. She ate a waffle, leaving the table over and over. She played “Just Dance” on the Nintendo for a minute, went to the bathroom and talked non-stop while there, played with her trucks and animals for a few seconds, told me about a dream she had (which she made up as she went along), got dressed, loudly read me two pages of a chapter book, argued with me about why she needed to go upstairs and wake Bailey, got out a bucket of crayons and paper but didn’t use them, dumped out her Polly Pockets, then immediately dumped a box of Barbies, cleaned up the Polly Pockets (at my insistence), turned on the television in my room and found a show she liked (which she immediately wandered away from) and got her coat and boots on so she could go outside. The yard is just mud from the melting snow and I told her to stay on the porch and sidewalk, fully expecting her to obey me and not come in covered with mud. Am I insane?  Probably! 

For all my frustration, I can only imagine Sydney’s. Being expected to follow rules and routine when her impulse control is almost non-existent must be very hard. Every thought (impulse) she has seems to be like a powerful magnet, pulling her to it. Alcohol did this to her. A birth mother who could not or would not control her impulses to drink did this to her. If you have seen the movie “Dennis The Menace” and watched how Dennis cannot control himself when it comes to pushing a button, then you might have an idea of how it is for Sydney. Dennis tries not to push the buttons in front of him. He reaches out to do it, pulls his hand back, thinks and weighs the options, then quickly pushes the button. The power of the button was just too much for him. THAT is what Sydney must be dealing with. What she sees, she touches and what she wants, she grabs. If she thinks it, she says it. Thank goodness for the medications we have found. It’s been well over an hour since Sydney took her pills. She is lying in the floor, in front of a show, talking calmly to me about her next trip over to visit Grandpa’s cows. I could probably go get a shower now or leave her unattended for a few minutes and it would NOT be insane to expect her to be behaving when I return. My precious baby girl is back with me for the day and the wild child is gone until tomorrow morning. Same

Sydney, caught in the act when she was
about four or five. 

time, same place. 

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Shoes: Fetish or Fashion?

In my last post, I spoke of Tate’s attachment to objects, and I spoke briefly about his shoes.  Mentioning the shoes, brought back a lot of memories for me.  I’m sure Tate’s attachment to his shoes was partly because of the familiarity and routine that went with wearing the same shoes every day.  However, it was more than just that. 

When Tate was at preschool, the attachment to his shoes sometimes got in the way of his daily activities.  There were times when Tate was expected to remove his shoes.  At rest time, or for water play, or sand play, the shoes needed to come off and Tate was stressed.  There were occasional art projects when the kids were supposed to trace their feet, or even make footprints with paint that caused Tate to melt-down.  Paint caused sensory over-load for Tate, even when he was using his hands, so the removal of shoes was a double whammy.  There were a couple of games the teachers played with the students during circle time that caused Tate a lot of anxiety.  One game called for the children to remove one shoe and throw it into a box or bucket.  A child was asked to pull a shoe from the container and take it to its owner, thus teaching matching skills.  Mercifully, the teachers made sure Tate’s show was on top, and back on his foot as soon as possible.  There was another game that was similar and I think both shoes had to come off for that game.  We wanted Tate to take part in as many activities as possible and learn to deal with these kinds of things, so he was forced to participate most of the time.  Tate got plenty of warnings before it was time to take his shoe(s) off and plenty of reassurance that his shoe(s) would only be off for a short time.  I watched circle most days through a two-way mirror and it was hard not to intervene, run into the room to get his shoe back for him.  When Tate becomes anxious it is hard for me to watch.  He seems to be in pain physically. 

When Tate was eight we planned a family trip to Seattle.  It was to be Tate’s first time to fly.  I did not know how Tate would handle the flight.  I had heard some pretty awful stories from people about flying with children who had autism.  Tate’s behavior consultant suggested a social story.  She reminded me Tate would be expected to remove his shoes when we went through security.  She also reminded me about how different the bathrooms look on a plane, another potential trial for Tate.  I am usually able to anticipate and prepare Tate for hardships he will face, but I had not even thought about the difficulties of getting Tate to walk through security.  Any one part of the whole process could have been hard on him, but especially the removal of his shoes.  Allowing his shoes to ride on a conveyor belt would be another potential problem.  Yikes, I was getting worried.  We read the social story several times and acted out “going through security.”  Pretending and imagining are hard things for Tate to do so acting out a scenario is difficult but we tried.  Tate had lots of questions about it all and was quite anxious as he got used to the idea of giving up his shoes to a stranger.  When the day came to leave on our trip, we rushed through security without a hitch.  Tate was nervous and he did stim but, overall, he did very well.  I credit the social story and the practicing.  Thank goodness Tate’s wonderful behavior consultant anticipated the problems and helped us to prevent them.  The airplane ride turned out to be one of Tate’s favorite parts of the vacation.

Tate seems to have outgrown most of his anxiety over shoes.  He still cannot tie a bow so I buy Velcro shoes.  I found a shoe store that carries them in adult sizes.  Tate’s feet are huge now so we just buy the same shoe every time, one size bigger and he hardly notices we got new ones.  Shoe shopping used to be so traumatizing for Tate and now it is not an issue.  I sure hope the Velcro shoes go all the way to size 15 because I imagine his feet will grow as big as his brothers’ feet have.  His feet are already bigger than his brothers’ feet were at age ten.

Shoes are an issue for Sydney too but in a very different way.  Sydney does not form unnatural attachments to inanimate objects. She has favorite toys and clothes but no more than any typically developing child would.  She does, however, LOVE shoes.  Sydney doesn’t get attached to any one pair.  She loves them all.  She learned at a very early age, to say “my shoes are hurting my feet,” as we walked past the shoe department in a store.  I, being the intelligent person that I am, only got “taken” a few times before I figured out the game she was playing.  Sydney’s favorite shoes are flip-flops.  She cannot wear the cheap ones because the plastic gives her blisters, and her high tolerance for pain allows her to ignore the blisters until they are huge sores. (See my earlier post called “Does it Hurt” for discussion about pain tolerance.) I have to buy her flip-flops that have fabric between the toes, and even then, watch for her feet to get sore.  I tried just avoiding flip-flops for her entirely but she took all the laces, straps, and buckles off all her shoes trying to create flip-flops herself.  She just loves them so.  I have to hide them for the fall and winter.  I used to toss them onto a top shelf in my closet.  I have had to find a much better hiding place because the temptation is too much for Sydney’s limited impulse control.  She knew those shoes were up there and climbed my shelves to get them down whenever I was not watching.  Most of my older kids would not have disobeyed like Sydney does, and if they had, they would have learned from a single spanking not to climb the shelves or attempt to get something off-limits.  Sydney does not learn from a spanking and she cannot plan ahead and remember the consequences of her actions.  It amazes me continually that Sydney does not seem to realize she will be found-out if she wears shoes I took away from her.  The impulse control to touch, grab, or obtain things that she wants, is just too great for her to resist.  Exposure to alcohol in the womb took the ability to control her impulses.  No amount of talking, reasoning, or consequences for her actions can give that back to her.  One of my biggest fears for Sydney is that she will someday be in jail because she could not resist the impulse to shop lift and steal things.  I have read that a large percentage of the people in our prisons today, show signs of Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS), thus they have little impulse control and they have poor judgment.  They do not learn from the consequences of their past actions or think about what the consequences of their crimes will be.  FAS is a birth defect that mothers (BIRTH mothers) could completely eradicate.  If no more babies were born with FAS the number of people in prison would drop dramatically in a few years.  A child should not have to pay the price for a birth mom’s binges.  It is a life sentence. 

Its a mad, mad world.

Our family loves old movies and there are probably not very many we have never seen.  We love so many of the older actors: Jimmy Stewart, John Wayne, James Garner, Doris Day, Cary Grant, Rock Hudson, Don Knotts, Fred McMurray, Jim Neighbors, the list goes on and on.  We also love musicals and have a lot of soundtracks too.  Our older kids grew up playing the game “guess what movie this line is from” with us and now we play it with the younger kids.  So, even without autism, Tate would probably have the love of movies and movie dialogue he has. 

Because we all have this in common, our family uses movie scenes and characters often to reference things.  When one of us hears the line “I can’t see” in almost any context, we repeat it in the voice of Jim Backus (Thurston Howell the Third).  It is from a scene in “It’s a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad World” when he is flying a plane and becomes blinded so Mickey Rooney has to take over the controls.  This is something we do constantly with all kinds of movie quotes.  Shawn uses them often to get a laugh from me or the kids.  We love it.

One of Shawn’s favorite television shows is the “Andy Griffith Show.”  Barney Fife and Floyd, the barber, are two of our favorite characters but the character that has always been dearest to our heart is Ernest T. Bass.  Ernest T. is a wild man from the hills.  He was in very few episodes but we have seen those few episodes dozens and dozens of times.  I said all of that to tell you this:  The past few years, every time I watch Ernest T. Bass, I see Sydney (the Sydney that has not yet had her medicine in the morning.)  It is not the way he looks, of course; but the way he acts.  If you have never seen Ernest T. Bass, you can watch a few minutes of him on U-tube to get an idea.  He jumps around and talks nonsense.  He laughs wildly and irritates everyone around him.  He throws rocks through windows when he wants to get someone’s attention.  In one episode he talks about saving for a gold tooth.  He wants to knock out two teeth and get a gold one, right in the middle, so it will shine and be pretty.  Ernest T. does not think things through.  He has no impulse control.  I wonder if Ernest T.’s mother had her own moonshine still out back.  I also wonder if the writers were modeling the character after someone with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome or ADHD.

This morning, Sydney got up before me.  She usually does on Saturdays.  It makes no sense because I wake her up Monday through Friday at 7:00.  On Saturdays, when she could sleep in, she is up much earlier.  Her room and mine are adjoined and she is supposed to call to me and ASK if she can get up.  She does not often remember.  As usual, she had everyone in turmoil this morning.  Tate is always up at the crack of dawn and he cannot defend himself against her so she was tormenting him.  She made sure the other kids were awake (although they would have rather slept in). She found a bowl of popcorn from last night and spilled it.  She got a glass of water and spilled that.  She let her bunny out of the cage and shared an apple with her.  YUK.  She kicked her new soccer ball in the living room and knocked over a picture frame and the telephone.  All this happened at lightning speed too, one thing right after the other.  An hour later, after her pills took effect, she was no longer doing impressions of Ernest T. and she was calm and sweet.  I am so thankful for those two pills and I can hardly remember what it was like before we got those two prescriptions.  Those years are a sort of blur.  I have a vague memory though and it was not easy.  Ernest T. could have used one of Sydney’s pills; but then what kind of television character would he have made?   

Note:  Please do not misunderstand.  Comparing Sydney's behaviors to that of a silly fictional character is not meant to be ugly.  I love my little girl and she is a very valuable member of our family. 

Impulse Control

She's into everything!

One of the biggest concerns we have about Sydney is her lack of impulse control. If she thinks it, she says it. If she sees it, she reaches out to touch it. If she wants it, she grabs it. A person with Fetal Alcohol Syndrome often lacks the “filter” the rest of us have. Because Sydney doesn’t plan ahead, natural consequences and cause-and-effect are not really the teachers that they should be. Sometimes she does learn to control a behavior or an impulse in a certain situation because of repetition. But, if that same situation doesn’t come up again for a while, she will probably forget and have to relearn the consequence. It is frustrating to us all, her included I imagine. 

This evening we did a little shopping. Levi had some birthday money to spend. Sydney emptied her piggy bank a few nights ago and had twenty dollars. Numbers mean nothing to her but I patiently explained at length what twenty dollars could and could not do for her. We went to Target. She saw many things she wanted that were way out of her price range and just could NOT understand why she couldn’t walk out with them but I stood firm. She settled on a small squishy dinosaur that was only a few dollars. She loves those squishy toys. Her sensory needs are extraordinary. Levi didn’t find what he wanted in Target so we went over to Best Buy. Sydney saw a DVD box with a dolphin on it. It was Season One of the old television show, “Flipper” and it was only $9.99, on sale. She was THRILLED when I said she had enough money left to buy it. Sydney has two favorite animals: cows and dolphins. Once, at the end of the school day she did not come out with her class. She had a substitute teacher that day and the sub and I had to hunt Sydney down. She was in the library looking for a book about dolphins. She did not understand why the grownups did not know that was where she would be. It was only logical she thought. UGH!

Sydney with her brothers, Levi and Tate.
She sometimes just called them "the brothers."

  
After Best Buy we went to Walmart to get a few things. Sydney wanted one of everything we saw.  I told her over and over she didn’t have enough money left to buy anything else and she was not going to get anything in Walmart. She whined. She shed a few tears. She kept asking. I asked her to stop. I told her to stop. I demanded she stop. I finally got down and quietly chewed her out for misbehaving. I told her to watch the boys and see how they were acting. They were not getting anything in Walmart but they were not complaining. I lectured her about being thankful for what she had gotten at the other stores. I talked to her about how much she was going to love watching her dolphin show when we got home. I told her NOT to ask me for ONE more thing in Walmart. I asked her if she understood. She said she did. I had her repeat to me that she would not ask for anything else, “not one more thing.” We got about ten feet from where I had stopped to lecture her and she saw a book. Can you guess what I heard? “OH MOM, LOOK! I WANT THAT BOOK! Can I have it?” I said “SYDNEY!  REMEMBER? Not one more thing?” She looked at me like she had no idea what I was talking about.   

Almost every evening, at some point, Sydney and Shawn play a game of cards. It has helped her a lot with number recognition and she loves nothing more than having Shawn’s undivided attention. They usually play “Go Fish” but some nights it is “Slap Jack” or another game. She talks the ENTIRE time they play. She chatters without taking a breath. She CAN NOT keep quiet about what cards she has either. She will tell Shawn what her cards are as soon as they begin, no matter how many times we remind her to keep quiet. Sometimes she tells him by saying “Dad, do NOT ask for 2s or 5s.” Last night, when one of her cards fell on the floor she hollered, "Don't look at that Queen!" She cracks us up every night. Sydney has such a great Daddy. He is so patient. He got a double dose of impulse control so he has enough for both of them. 

If you found this post interesting, here is a similar one: heart attacks and loose teeth.

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