Anxiety in Children

I'd never really thought about childhood anxiety. It's not something that gets much play in parenting magazines. Most parents don't sit around and compare their kids' anxieties like they do their abilities to sing, swim, read, and drive their siblings batty. We talk about sleep issues and food problems, but we don't talk about anxiety. Certainly nothing beyond the basic separation issues when the child is 9 and 18 months.

We might all talk about our sadness at them leaving us in stages: for preschool, kindergarten, and so on.

My beautiful, very bright 5 year old has anxiety. And it isn't a little anxiety. It's day-to-day world-altering anxiety. He's been diagnosed officially with Anxiety Disorder.

In retrospect, he's always had small signs. As early as he could talk (very, very early that is), he would say "Can I come too?" when we went to the mall or a restaurant. It was just the three of us back then, and the only option would be to leave him in the car. Of course he was coming! He took the comings and goings of family to heart and would sob when we had to leave someone at the airport.

On the flip side, he went off to preschool with a don't-let-the-door-hit-you-on-the-way-out attitude. Unless I was volunteering that day, and then he wanted to literally sit on top of me for circle time. His junior kindergarten year was much the same, though he also marched in line with the other four year olds, calling out very enthusiastic goodbyes to anyone he knew in the crowd.

And then he turned five.

I didn't know what to do with this little man who suddenly refused to let Ray and I go out. It took an hour, bribery and bargaining to talk him down from the emotional ledge on my birthday in June. He was staying with a sitter he'd had for 2 years and loved. Still, it took my cousin, who is a social worker with small, anxious kids, and myself to finally manage that. Each time we went out for months, it was accompanied by screaming and crying. Bedtime was suddenly a disaster: there were "bugs" everywhere (not a one in sight) and multiple trips to reassure himself that we were still there. Summer activities were a painful time. He had a soccer camp and the first day it took me 2 hours to remove myself.

Then his senior kindergarten year began. The little man who had walked in, proudly waving and shouting goodbyes to all and sundry was replaced by someone who not only cried at the prospect of going, but alternately had to be carried in, chased down, and walked in with hand-holding.

Once in school...or camp...or swimming class...or babysitting...he was fine. And he came out the other end smiling and laughing.

Ray and I were not so lucky. We felt like a large truck had jackknifed on top of us!

And I have been incredibly quiet this fall because of it. I've not been talking about the elephant that lives among us. But it is a very real elephant and I am tired of not talking about it.

My child has an anxiety disorder.

We've seen doctors and a psychiatrist. Thankfully we can get him to go to school and swimming and other such things. He's not so bad that we have to medicate him. (Which I would have been leery about, but there were a few months there where we would have given anything to just make it through the next day.) And now we are seeing a social worker to talk about it. I had no idea what was available to us for such problems. Now I do.

Very slowly, things are getting better. He sleeps well now and doesn't get up 40 times most evenings. He's easier to get to start new things. He still verbally protests at certain activities, but I am no longer the mother with the screaming child who is being physically carried into the pool area, school yard, and other places. And although he still gives big tears and loud protests, once the babysitter arrives, he could care less where we are going, as long as we GO.

It gets better. Slowly.

Speach Developments

Liam is 22 months and a bit now. At this age, his older brother was speaking in full sentences and having in depth conversations with us. It seems that since that point he's only expanded his (incredibly massive) vocabulary and refined verb tense usage. Really. That's Xander. But Liam hardly talks at all. There's no happy medium: I have one I cannot get to be quiet and one that I cannot get to talk. Don't talk to be about normal ranges, because I don't have it here.

At 15 months, Liam had no words at all and was screaming in sheer frustration. So I called and got him put on the list for a speech evaluation.

Yes, many people told me that "it will all work out" and "I know a kid who didn't speak until he was three, but then spoke in full sentences and never shut up after that". I know of people like that. I know that there are many cases like that, truly. But the fact of the matter is that any kid who is late to talk has a 50/50 chance. Of late talkers, half are what the speech world calls "late bloomers". They catch on and talk just fine, in time, without intervention. The other half just do NOT.

The trick is that you cannot know which end your kid will end up in. My brother was sent to preschool at 4 to learn to speak, and he had no end of trouble with school. (This also follows, as the kids in the 50% who don't learn on their own are at an astronomical risk for difficulties in school.) Plus, I am a proactive person. Best, I thought, to have him on the list and not need it than to decide later that we do need it and then have to wait.

Turns out that at the time I put Liam on the speech list, it was 9 months until he would get services. At Christmas, they told us it is now 12 months. Astounding. Speech therapy is underfunded and overburdened...obviously.

So he got on the list and had his initial evaluation 4 months later. Not bad. It was determined that he was normal in every way, except expressive speech. These are the easiest kids to "fix", but there is still another 5 months to wait until we can see a therapist. To make up for the gap (he'll be re-evaluated in April and potentially get services then), we have been placed in a program that teaches us the basics of teaching speech. It's called Target Word.

We've been doing Target Word since the end of November. When we started, Liam had 3 words. He now has 17. I counted this morning (I keep a current list). It sounds like Target Word has been successful, right?

I'm not sure. For one thing, I feel like this seminar course is not exactly equipping me to teach speech. I mean, the speech therapists do four years or more of schooling to do this, right? Ray and I get 5 in class sessions and 2 video taping/critiquing sessions (the first one we didn't get to video tape, because Liam had a fit over just going there and taking off his coat, so we didn't manage to get the video going). Don't get me wrong: they have a lot of suggestions and give clear instructions, but I rarely feel like I am doing it right.

Plus, I wonder how many of these words he really understands. Sure, he has said it to us, but is it repetition? Does he understand it? Do I count words he has said once or in one context? I feel lost. And I feel like I am sitting here and waiting for some magical breakthrough that never comes.

Plus, how much of this expanded vocabulary is due to the tactics of Target Word and how much is really just time? I wonder.

And this morning I had a breakdown after the class. (In private, with Ray. Not in the class and with the instructor, mind you.) I told him all of these doubts. He said he thought it was working and had no idea I had doubts. I kind of begged the universe out loud for some sign that this kid was getting something out of this effort.

Because most of all...I just want to be able to talk to my child and have him tell me what is going on in his head too!

Tonight, before dinner, Liam had a bowl of chips. He was sick last week and refused to eat, so our doctor recommended encouraging his eating and increasing his salt intake with chips. A little unorthodox, sure, but he loved them immediately, and unlike the still untouched Pedialyte, it worked. So he kept coming back and wanting more. Pointing to them and holding out his bowl.

Okay, little man, let's work on a word you've used before, but seem to have dumped and use these Target Word tactics.

So I got down with the bag and said, "More chips! More!" as I gave him small portions of chips and made him come back again and again. "More!" Finally, he seemed done, and marched off. Bowl in hand. Not one word uttered.

And was back 3 minutes later, holding out his bowl, pointing to the chips, and finally...."MORE!"

He did it 3 times, before I put them away and caused a temper tantrum. (Dinner was only15 minutes away.)

After dinner, we sat and read (I am not joking) 12 books.

I taught him signs for doggy and flying, since he was interested.
Another opportunity to use another Target Word tactic: instead of charging through, when there are words that you've used over and over again, just pause and wait. Count to five if you have to. As long as they are interested, just pause. It'll probably get to the uncomfortable silence point, so this takes effort and control. I did it. Twice.

And got "woof" and "balloon".

I am still not 100% sure that these methods are working. I still feel woefully inadequate with this task (hey, I didn't have to work to get Xander to talk: I just talked to him and he responded). But they are obviously not hurting.

I'm trying my best, my dear Liam. I'm trying to slow things down and get you involved in conversation. I am trying to pause and give you the room. I am just trying...

I was THAT Mom at the store today.

I know, I know...two posts in one day. I am feeding the blogging beast, making it fat and happy.

I really was that Mom in the store today. We all know the one. She's hassled and looking frantic. Like if you spoke to her in the wrong tone, she might snap. But if you offered her a glass of wine from one hand, while still holding the bottle in the other, she'd snap the bottle up.

Truly, today I wonder why more parents of young kids do not drink heavily. Maybe they do and I missed that memo.

Xander was a horror. The only thing I can think of to explain it is that the child somehow lost his ears at about 10:30 this morning. It was pretty bad in Ikea, though manageable. But tonight, while Ray and my Dad were supposed to be putting together his brand new Ikea bed (which had a couple problems, so Ray had to run back when we got home to get a few pieces exchanged), Mom and I took the kids shopping. I had to get Xander sheets for his bed. We browsed a few things along the way too. Finally, we picked out two sets of sheets -- spiderman and plain blue -- and headed to the check out.

And that is when all hell broke loose.

Who is this child? I ask you? I know that I did not raise THIS kid, because THIS kid was raised by wolves. I am certain of it.

So, my Mom was making her couple of purchases and doesn't Xander spy the little display with the suckers. It's a tree shape and the suckers are all stuck in by their stems. I see him, seeing them and tell him, "No Xander. Don't touch those suckers." Nicely, but firm. Nothing. Then I say, "Alexander FRANK, do NOT touch those suckers." He stops. Brings his hands down. So now I know he heard me and knows what to do.

I have a split second where I think he is going to behave. But not so fast Mom...now we go in for the kill. And he reaches up again and gets one this time.

Quick as lightening (and pissed off too), I am over there. I reach out, grab the offending sucker, stick it back in the stand and tell him, "Since you cannot listen, now you get to come over here and hold on to the cart."

A shame worse than death in the eyes of my 4 year old. Normally met with tears and begging and promises of "being good" if only I will let him not hold the cart.

Not this time. I am sure that the word "sucker" (as in the fool variety, not the lollipop variety) came into his head as I said those words, because the next thing I knew he was having a full out tantrum. Seriously. My 4 year old had a tantrum! He said "NO!" and screamed and yelled and pulled out the tears. He even screamed to "stop pinching me". Where the heck he ever got that idea, I will never know. I have NEVER pinched anyone, much less my kids. And I was holding him up (he'd gone limp and was trying to throw himself on the floor) by his jacket. No pinch possible there. He also screamed at the cashier across the aisle to "Stop looking at me!" (I give her credit for not laughing, because there was a thread of hillarity in it all.)

I promptly told him there was no pinching happening.

And at that moment it became my turn at the cash. Talk about timing.

So I put the two sets of sheets on the counter and my socks too. The nice lady rang it all in and just as I was going to pay, Xander started spouting forth more tantrum. So I turned to her and said, "Please take the Spiderman sheets out of the bag and return them to the shelf for me."

There was a moment where she didn't believe me (I wonder how many parents have threatened and not followed through at the cash), so I had to ask twice. She removed them, there was a second where you could have heard a pin drop, and Xander said in a small voice, "No Spiderman sheets?"

"No. Not with behaviour like this," I said, without even blinking.

I am almost certain that they heard the screams of protest at the other end of the mall.

Spiderman sheets will come to our house eventually, but not without a whole other level of listening happening in our house.

For the record, he stopped screaming and crying abruptly about 2 minutes after we got to the car. When something else caught his attention. He's now soundly asleep and we will try again for a "listening kind of day" tomorrow.

Now I am going in search of that bottle of wine.