Showing posts with label PT. Show all posts
Showing posts with label PT. Show all posts
Monday, May 2, 2011
Good Monday
Sadie has officially been scaled back from weekly PT sessions to once-monthly. AND we got Bin Laden.
Saturday, March 26, 2011
Chugging Along
Two days ago was Sadie's half birthday; she's past the eighteen month point. Our way of celebrating was to forget all about it until about 10pm Thursday night, at which point I turned to Scott and said, "Oh hey, it's Sadie's half birthday today!" and he said, "Huh," and then we went back to watching "Parks and Recreation."
As Sadie has grown up, I've fallen into the bad habit of pledging that she will do things by a certain point in time. And by "things," I mean walk. Last year I was sure that Sadie was going to walk by Christmas, no matter what. When she got onto the list for a toddler group that began in February, I thought, "She'll definitely be walking by then." Then when all the websites and development books and our pediatrician said that even the late walkers get going by 18 months, I thought to myself, "Well, as long as she's taking steps by then, it'll be okay."
I finally figured out that what I was doing, what I thought of as positive goals to shoot for, aren't positive for anyone. Not for me and Scott, who are nervous enough as it is and don't need any additional standards by which to measure our child as "kinda weird." Definitely not for Sadie, who knows exactly what walking is, exactly when she does and does not want to do it, and will absolutely not be pushed into it one minute before she's good and ready.
So when the 18 month marker came and went, this time it was with a little reminder that in the last few weeks she has made terrific progress, and that the progress is what matters. With increased PT sessions, she gets more confident each time she goes. Confidence at Joy's means confidence at home -- usually, although she still would rather crawl than walk with aid to any given destination.
Today we did a joint PT session with another little girl Sadie's age. Addy can actually get around just fine, and isn't going regularly to PT anymore, but she has speech, feeding and sleeping problems due to bad acid reflux issues as a baby. Joy thought it would be a good idea for the two girls to have a playdate in hopes they'd "rub off" on each other -- that Sadie would be impressed by Addy's fearlessness in the clinic, and Addy would adopt Sadie's tendency to NEVER SHUT UP EVER EVER EVER.
I have no idea if it accomplished either of these things, but it was insanely cute to watch these two little girls sharing a space. Addy was like a tiny little tornado, while Sadie, towering over her, just seemed in awe of her ability to move from the mat to the stairs to the dolls to the kitchen sink in the span of .38 seconds. Sadie must have been feeling a little inadequate, because she used the session as an opportunity to bust out four new words: "sun," "castle," "purple" and "sesquicentennial." Okay, not that last one.
As Sadie has grown up, I've fallen into the bad habit of pledging that she will do things by a certain point in time. And by "things," I mean walk. Last year I was sure that Sadie was going to walk by Christmas, no matter what. When she got onto the list for a toddler group that began in February, I thought, "She'll definitely be walking by then." Then when all the websites and development books and our pediatrician said that even the late walkers get going by 18 months, I thought to myself, "Well, as long as she's taking steps by then, it'll be okay."
I finally figured out that what I was doing, what I thought of as positive goals to shoot for, aren't positive for anyone. Not for me and Scott, who are nervous enough as it is and don't need any additional standards by which to measure our child as "kinda weird." Definitely not for Sadie, who knows exactly what walking is, exactly when she does and does not want to do it, and will absolutely not be pushed into it one minute before she's good and ready.
So when the 18 month marker came and went, this time it was with a little reminder that in the last few weeks she has made terrific progress, and that the progress is what matters. With increased PT sessions, she gets more confident each time she goes. Confidence at Joy's means confidence at home -- usually, although she still would rather crawl than walk with aid to any given destination.
Today we did a joint PT session with another little girl Sadie's age. Addy can actually get around just fine, and isn't going regularly to PT anymore, but she has speech, feeding and sleeping problems due to bad acid reflux issues as a baby. Joy thought it would be a good idea for the two girls to have a playdate in hopes they'd "rub off" on each other -- that Sadie would be impressed by Addy's fearlessness in the clinic, and Addy would adopt Sadie's tendency to NEVER SHUT UP EVER EVER EVER.
I have no idea if it accomplished either of these things, but it was insanely cute to watch these two little girls sharing a space. Addy was like a tiny little tornado, while Sadie, towering over her, just seemed in awe of her ability to move from the mat to the stairs to the dolls to the kitchen sink in the span of .38 seconds. Sadie must have been feeling a little inadequate, because she used the session as an opportunity to bust out four new words: "sun," "castle," "purple" and "sesquicentennial." Okay, not that last one.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Getting Active
Ever since New Year's, Sadie has devoted herself to learning to walk, with a vengeance. She's beginning to really put effort towards getting on her feet, and seems to have picked up some new ideas about how to do it. These are exciting to watch, and we respond to each new skill by screaming with praise.
At the Vancouver house, she watched our friends' god-son Dash get to a standing position from crawling by straightening his arms and legs (a la the "Downward dog" yoga pose)and then using his arms to push himself up to standing. Since then she's begun doing the first half -- stiffening her legs -- but doesn't quite have the strength or the balance to stand up by herself. Give her something to pull herself up on, though, like my outstretched arm, and she does it in a heartbeat.
Her balance is improving, too. She's begun pushing herself away from surfaces for a few moments at a time, standing without aid until she loses her nerve and abruptly sits down (or, in an alarming trend, flinging herself backwards with the assumption that one of us will catch her). What's especially heartening is that things that used to unnerve and upset her, like being jostled or losing her balance, don't phase her at much as they used to. Overall this speeds up progress, since she can now handle the occasional bump or trip without bursting into a crying fit or giving up.
In the meantime, we do what we can to strengthen her even further. She adores crawling up on raised surfaces, so I encourage her to climb up onto anything she can find -- although of course some places, like the arms of the couch, are off limits. I discovered a new "game," in which she stands on the top step of her plastic slide while I get down and peek through the slats on the side, saying, "Down!" and then stand up to look her in the eye, saying, "Up!" She mimics the movement, so I'm basically tricking her into doing squats under the pretense that we're having fun. Or maybe she's the one tricking me.
She also loves to walk between me and Scott, with each of us holding one hand. Sunday was a beautiful sunny day, so we walked the dogs to the park and did a lap all the way around the playground, holding hands. It was further than she'd ever walked and it completely exhausted her, but she loved every minute of it.
We've completed her sessions with Dr. Meyer, and all that reminds is to go in one last time to get the results of the testing and to hear Dr. Meyer's suggestions about how to make life smoother and easier for Sadie in the future. Were these sessions enlightening? Yes, to an extent. Were they necessary? I'm not completely sure. Much of what we "learned" about Sadie, we already knew: she's cognitively ahead but physically behind; she's got strong social skills but is very deeply attached to me and is easily unnerved by unfamiliar situations if I'm not there.
Our last session did lead to an interesting breakthrough. Dr. Meyer was evaluating Sadie's physical skills, and Sadie was having a great time with it. As she went after a ball that had rolled past her, Dr. Meyer cried out, "Sadie, good job!" in an unusually loud and high-pitched voice. Sadie, startled, stopped immediately what she was doing, stared at the ball for a few seconds, then burst into hysterical tears.
As we calmed her down, I tried to explain that she's always been sensitive to being "scolded" or harsh tones of voice. I recalled the incident that permanently scarred my poor father, the time he was trying to stop her from tossing some eggs on the floor and said, "No!" right in her ear, without meaning to. (The resulting sobbing fit upset him more than it did her, I think.) As I explained, I began to muse that this could very well be a reason why Sadie gets upset over seemingly nothing, and that perhaps some people -- like the owner of Happy Star day care or poor, long-suffering Joy -- intrinsically rub her the wrong way. Low, mellow tones of voice makes her happy; sharp tones throw her abruptly out of whack and, apparently, deeply upset her. It would also explain why she naturally takes to men, whose voices are lower and who are less prone to raising their voices.
If it turns out I'm right about this, it's going to help us out a lot when it comes to introducing Sadie to new people and situations. If and when she goes back to daycare -- and that will happen when it happens; I'm not going to push it anymore -- we'll know that she needs an environment that's relatively quiet and calm. When we hire babysitters and nannies, we'll know to hire people who have calm personalities and soothing voices.
It also most likely means finding a new physical therapist, which makes me feel bad. Joy has done so much to try to help Sadie, and has gone the extra mile in a way that, from what everyone else is telling me, is exceedingly rare. But it's pretty clear that the match isn't working, so next week I'll start a new search. I'm also considering starting Occupational Therapy, which typically is done in conjunction with PT and which kids more traditionally "enjoy" since they get to learn and practice real world skills rather than just working out. One thing Sadie and I definitely have in common is a shared suspicion of the gym.
At the Vancouver house, she watched our friends' god-son Dash get to a standing position from crawling by straightening his arms and legs (a la the "Downward dog" yoga pose)and then using his arms to push himself up to standing. Since then she's begun doing the first half -- stiffening her legs -- but doesn't quite have the strength or the balance to stand up by herself. Give her something to pull herself up on, though, like my outstretched arm, and she does it in a heartbeat.
Her balance is improving, too. She's begun pushing herself away from surfaces for a few moments at a time, standing without aid until she loses her nerve and abruptly sits down (or, in an alarming trend, flinging herself backwards with the assumption that one of us will catch her). What's especially heartening is that things that used to unnerve and upset her, like being jostled or losing her balance, don't phase her at much as they used to. Overall this speeds up progress, since she can now handle the occasional bump or trip without bursting into a crying fit or giving up.
In the meantime, we do what we can to strengthen her even further. She adores crawling up on raised surfaces, so I encourage her to climb up onto anything she can find -- although of course some places, like the arms of the couch, are off limits. I discovered a new "game," in which she stands on the top step of her plastic slide while I get down and peek through the slats on the side, saying, "Down!" and then stand up to look her in the eye, saying, "Up!" She mimics the movement, so I'm basically tricking her into doing squats under the pretense that we're having fun. Or maybe she's the one tricking me.
She also loves to walk between me and Scott, with each of us holding one hand. Sunday was a beautiful sunny day, so we walked the dogs to the park and did a lap all the way around the playground, holding hands. It was further than she'd ever walked and it completely exhausted her, but she loved every minute of it.
We've completed her sessions with Dr. Meyer, and all that reminds is to go in one last time to get the results of the testing and to hear Dr. Meyer's suggestions about how to make life smoother and easier for Sadie in the future. Were these sessions enlightening? Yes, to an extent. Were they necessary? I'm not completely sure. Much of what we "learned" about Sadie, we already knew: she's cognitively ahead but physically behind; she's got strong social skills but is very deeply attached to me and is easily unnerved by unfamiliar situations if I'm not there.
Our last session did lead to an interesting breakthrough. Dr. Meyer was evaluating Sadie's physical skills, and Sadie was having a great time with it. As she went after a ball that had rolled past her, Dr. Meyer cried out, "Sadie, good job!" in an unusually loud and high-pitched voice. Sadie, startled, stopped immediately what she was doing, stared at the ball for a few seconds, then burst into hysterical tears.
As we calmed her down, I tried to explain that she's always been sensitive to being "scolded" or harsh tones of voice. I recalled the incident that permanently scarred my poor father, the time he was trying to stop her from tossing some eggs on the floor and said, "No!" right in her ear, without meaning to. (The resulting sobbing fit upset him more than it did her, I think.) As I explained, I began to muse that this could very well be a reason why Sadie gets upset over seemingly nothing, and that perhaps some people -- like the owner of Happy Star day care or poor, long-suffering Joy -- intrinsically rub her the wrong way. Low, mellow tones of voice makes her happy; sharp tones throw her abruptly out of whack and, apparently, deeply upset her. It would also explain why she naturally takes to men, whose voices are lower and who are less prone to raising their voices.
If it turns out I'm right about this, it's going to help us out a lot when it comes to introducing Sadie to new people and situations. If and when she goes back to daycare -- and that will happen when it happens; I'm not going to push it anymore -- we'll know that she needs an environment that's relatively quiet and calm. When we hire babysitters and nannies, we'll know to hire people who have calm personalities and soothing voices.
It also most likely means finding a new physical therapist, which makes me feel bad. Joy has done so much to try to help Sadie, and has gone the extra mile in a way that, from what everyone else is telling me, is exceedingly rare. But it's pretty clear that the match isn't working, so next week I'll start a new search. I'm also considering starting Occupational Therapy, which typically is done in conjunction with PT and which kids more traditionally "enjoy" since they get to learn and practice real world skills rather than just working out. One thing Sadie and I definitely have in common is a shared suspicion of the gym.
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