For about a year, our family has been trying hard to hold Sunday night family meetings. We sit around the dinner table and talk about the past week, our accomplishments and disappointments, and discuss the upcoming week. Every month or so we think of a new value to add to our value board, which is a white erase board hanging on the kitchen wall. When we started, we couldn't get our daughter to sit for more than 30 seconds, so we allowed her to wander off or snuggle in our laps. This year, she has turned a corner and is able to engage. Family meetings, which were once chaotic, are more enjoyable.
We re-organized how we discuss the values because it seemed that there was a lot of talk about them, but not a lot of internalizing how to use them. So, now we write on the white erase "Value of the Week: (value)". I let the kids choose which value they want to focus on. This week Alex chose "Optimism" and rationalized that because it was going to rain all week we would need to be optimistic that we can still have fun. At breakfast each morning we talk about the value and how we are going to incorporate it into our lives. By focusing on one each week, we hope the kids will gain a better understanding of the values and then use them.
Discussion around values (a word we stretch to include any action that makes our lives better, such as "participation", which may not be a value at all) lends itself to talks that are instructive, but not personally directed toward the kids. We play a game where we illustrate what a value means, usually by taking examples from our lives. For example, I will ask the kids which value I am describing when giving the following scenario: You go to the store and give the cashier $10 for some bread and she gives you $20 in return. What do you do? (they answer, and if they say they take the money and run, we remind them of what would happen to the cashier when her boss discovers the missing money, and ask them to answer again). When they answer, we ask them what value they just illustrated. The answer here would be "honesty".
As Alex works to overcome his limitations, and to find his natural talents, these values have become really important. When we started the value game, we didn't realize we were building a foundation that would influence his emotional state--we thought we were just encouraging our kids to be good people. Recently the value game has taken on greater meaning, because words like optimism don't only mean finding fun when it rains, but believing in something you can not yet see, like your future ability to hold a baseball bat, or wear a catcher's mitt. As Alex grows up, he has begun to lose some of his innocence and to make very adult statements like, "I'll never be a good runner. I fall all the time." Now I am able to remind him that just like when it rains, he needs to remain optimistic, because even if he falls he can still have fun, and still become a great runner. The value game has taken on real meaning, and not only for the kids. We can all use a healthy dose of optimism now and then.
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Honest Discussions
Last week, as Alex was winding down before bed, I overheard him telling himself all about his brain injury. I came in on the middle of the conversation he was having with himself.
"...and that is called a brain injury. I got it when I was born. It means that my brain sometimes doesn't work the way I want it to. That's why I have to work lefty..."
I didn't interrupt. I left him to himself to talk it out.
A year ago, when Alex was 2 1/2, on our way into Boston for his annual MRI, we explained to him the details of his injury, how it happened and how it was affecting his balance and left side. Since that time, he has had many questions and has overheard us discussing his brain with doctors, teachers, relatives and parents. Because we try to keep a positive spin at all times on our situation, to help keep us all encouraged and moving forward in a positive direction, and because we know that Alex internalizes every word we say about him, our conversations about his injury are all about working hard to overcome an obstacle that can be surmounted. Alex believes that with hard work, lefty will become as strong as righty, and his balance will eventually normalize. Occasionally, when he gets upset with himself for tripping or not being as coordinated as Izzy, we honestly tell him that he has to work harder than his sister because of his injury, but that he should not be afraid of hard work.
I have at times observed surprise in people who overhear how honestly we talk to Alex about his injury. Not every child is the same, and so perhaps this approach would not work with all children, but for one who can understand, talking about the injury seems to ease Alex's anxiety, and provide him with a greater sense of determination, especially when he observes the ease with which other children accomplish daily tasks. Putting on his crocs, for example, was a major, major hurtle. He was so frustrated when he realized that his younger sister could quickly put hers on without assistance, while he couldn't even get his toes inside without help. We kept telling Alex that when he was ready to start trying to put them on himself, he should tell us. For a while, he refused. We encouraged him to act independently, but did not push the issue. And of course, at some point, he decided he was ready to try. He can now put one shoe on no problem and he can get the other one started without assistance. Getting out the door used to be an incredible battle, mostly because Alex didn't want to sit for his shoes to be put on because his inability to put them on himself was a daily downer. Now that he can do part of the job himself, he loves to sit and get put them on. He leaves every day with a sense of accomplishment.
We spent a lot of the summer in NH this year, surrounded by cousins, aunts and uncles, great aunts and uncles, and grand parents. The kids play together, no matter their age differences. They run and swim together, go blueberry picking, hiking, share their toys and books, tell each other stories, go fishing. It is amazing how just being kids together, without schedules or planned activities, encourages them to grow. Alex keeps up, and all the cousins encourage him at every turn. When he falls running, they pick him up. When he is nervous about jumping into the water, they cheer and clap. When he has trouble holding a tennis racquet or fish rod, they guide his grip. No one is afraid to talk about his "lefty", or to encourage him to use his left side.
And so for Alex, his weakness in his left side has become a simple fact of life that must be dominated and overcome. This attitude should help him in the coming years, when playing sports in school will likely bring on another round of realizations and possible frustrations. We hope that building his self-esteem and outlook on life early will prepare him for the many stages of the emotional evolution that develops in children with health challenges. This early emotional strength is quite possibly the single greatest gift parents can give to their children, whether they face injuries or not, but especially for children who may find themselves in last place in physical activities. Yesterday, Alex told me that he wins every race he enters (in our track club summer series), even though he usually comes in last place. "Really?" I asked. "Yes, I won because I participated." Participation has become our summer concept, and our mantra.
"...and that is called a brain injury. I got it when I was born. It means that my brain sometimes doesn't work the way I want it to. That's why I have to work lefty..."
I didn't interrupt. I left him to himself to talk it out.
A year ago, when Alex was 2 1/2, on our way into Boston for his annual MRI, we explained to him the details of his injury, how it happened and how it was affecting his balance and left side. Since that time, he has had many questions and has overheard us discussing his brain with doctors, teachers, relatives and parents. Because we try to keep a positive spin at all times on our situation, to help keep us all encouraged and moving forward in a positive direction, and because we know that Alex internalizes every word we say about him, our conversations about his injury are all about working hard to overcome an obstacle that can be surmounted. Alex believes that with hard work, lefty will become as strong as righty, and his balance will eventually normalize. Occasionally, when he gets upset with himself for tripping or not being as coordinated as Izzy, we honestly tell him that he has to work harder than his sister because of his injury, but that he should not be afraid of hard work.
I have at times observed surprise in people who overhear how honestly we talk to Alex about his injury. Not every child is the same, and so perhaps this approach would not work with all children, but for one who can understand, talking about the injury seems to ease Alex's anxiety, and provide him with a greater sense of determination, especially when he observes the ease with which other children accomplish daily tasks. Putting on his crocs, for example, was a major, major hurtle. He was so frustrated when he realized that his younger sister could quickly put hers on without assistance, while he couldn't even get his toes inside without help. We kept telling Alex that when he was ready to start trying to put them on himself, he should tell us. For a while, he refused. We encouraged him to act independently, but did not push the issue. And of course, at some point, he decided he was ready to try. He can now put one shoe on no problem and he can get the other one started without assistance. Getting out the door used to be an incredible battle, mostly because Alex didn't want to sit for his shoes to be put on because his inability to put them on himself was a daily downer. Now that he can do part of the job himself, he loves to sit and get put them on. He leaves every day with a sense of accomplishment.
We spent a lot of the summer in NH this year, surrounded by cousins, aunts and uncles, great aunts and uncles, and grand parents. The kids play together, no matter their age differences. They run and swim together, go blueberry picking, hiking, share their toys and books, tell each other stories, go fishing. It is amazing how just being kids together, without schedules or planned activities, encourages them to grow. Alex keeps up, and all the cousins encourage him at every turn. When he falls running, they pick him up. When he is nervous about jumping into the water, they cheer and clap. When he has trouble holding a tennis racquet or fish rod, they guide his grip. No one is afraid to talk about his "lefty", or to encourage him to use his left side.
And so for Alex, his weakness in his left side has become a simple fact of life that must be dominated and overcome. This attitude should help him in the coming years, when playing sports in school will likely bring on another round of realizations and possible frustrations. We hope that building his self-esteem and outlook on life early will prepare him for the many stages of the emotional evolution that develops in children with health challenges. This early emotional strength is quite possibly the single greatest gift parents can give to their children, whether they face injuries or not, but especially for children who may find themselves in last place in physical activities. Yesterday, Alex told me that he wins every race he enters (in our track club summer series), even though he usually comes in last place. "Really?" I asked. "Yes, I won because I participated." Participation has become our summer concept, and our mantra.
Monday, August 1, 2011
A Sport All To One's Own
Alex had a very bad day at school last week, and I was surprised because he adores his new school and has been thriving. He was angry and uncooperative, a sign that something wasn't right. Thinking over the day, I realized his mood swing had begun that morning, at his before school karate lesson.
Alex has been taking karate for over a year, and the lessons have helped his balance and strength considerably. I can not rave enough about the martial arts to help children with brain injuries. At this last lesson, Izzy joined Alex for the first time. She has not been interested in karate, but has hit a stage of life where she is ready to begin. She is incredibly agile, has excellent balance and is an all around amazing athlete. She was the star of the lesson. Alex's heart was broken. He acted out in the lesson and I had to have him sit twice, to calm down. He acted out on the way to school, and I made him sit again to calm down. So, it was no wonder he continued to act out in school.
Alex napped after school and I never mentioned his poor behavior in school that day. I let him play and have quiet time at home, while I tried to figure out how to approach this new problem. Alex's self esteem was devastated when he witnessed the ease with which his sister mastered karate, when he has been working at it for over a year. I finally decided to talk about it with both children at bedtime. When I brought up the karate class, Alex said,"Mommy, I'm not good at anything. Izzy is good at everything." He was finally able to articulate the problem, which is pretty incredible for a 3 year old.
We then played a game, where each child told the other what the other was good at. Izzy went first. I asked Izzy what she thought Alex was good at. She was so thrilled to tell him: karate, running, drawing, being a nice brother. Alex put his head in his pillow. He was proud and sad at the same time, because he still felt he wasn't as good at these things as Izzy. Then it was Alex's turn. There is something about praising another person that truly inflates the speaker's self-esteem. He told Izzy that she is a fish in the water, that she is a very fast runner, that she is also a nice sister. It was an amazing evening. I snuggled with both of them as they fell asleep. When it was Alex's turn, we talked more about what he is good at. He wanted to hear it repeated that he was good at things. I explain to the kids all the time that one may be fast, but the other can run long distances; one may be good in the water, but the other is good on the tricycle. We all have our strengths and weaknesses.
The next day, we talked about whether Alex could handle having Izzy in his karate class. It was, after all, his sport, and if he wanted to keep it that way, I would have to find another time of day for Izzy to have a lesson. At first Alex said he did not want Izzy in his class, but Izzy piped up that she wanted to join him. I explained that since they are best friends, they should find it fun to be together in a class. Finally, Alex agreed to let Izzy try it one more time and to then decide if he wanted her in class or not.
The next day at class, I cheated slightly. I kept Izzy in my lap for the first part of class while Alex got settled in and was the center of attention. Then, I let Izzy joined. She did well for about 10 minutes and then lost interest. I also joined the class, to participate with the kids. Alex maintained his poise, and was completely happy at the end of the class. We had one major success. Not sure if it will last, it may need to be readdressed, but for now, we had a success and the more successes in the bank, the better we will be prepared for the downturns.
Alex has been taking karate for over a year, and the lessons have helped his balance and strength considerably. I can not rave enough about the martial arts to help children with brain injuries. At this last lesson, Izzy joined Alex for the first time. She has not been interested in karate, but has hit a stage of life where she is ready to begin. She is incredibly agile, has excellent balance and is an all around amazing athlete. She was the star of the lesson. Alex's heart was broken. He acted out in the lesson and I had to have him sit twice, to calm down. He acted out on the way to school, and I made him sit again to calm down. So, it was no wonder he continued to act out in school.
Alex napped after school and I never mentioned his poor behavior in school that day. I let him play and have quiet time at home, while I tried to figure out how to approach this new problem. Alex's self esteem was devastated when he witnessed the ease with which his sister mastered karate, when he has been working at it for over a year. I finally decided to talk about it with both children at bedtime. When I brought up the karate class, Alex said,"Mommy, I'm not good at anything. Izzy is good at everything." He was finally able to articulate the problem, which is pretty incredible for a 3 year old.
We then played a game, where each child told the other what the other was good at. Izzy went first. I asked Izzy what she thought Alex was good at. She was so thrilled to tell him: karate, running, drawing, being a nice brother. Alex put his head in his pillow. He was proud and sad at the same time, because he still felt he wasn't as good at these things as Izzy. Then it was Alex's turn. There is something about praising another person that truly inflates the speaker's self-esteem. He told Izzy that she is a fish in the water, that she is a very fast runner, that she is also a nice sister. It was an amazing evening. I snuggled with both of them as they fell asleep. When it was Alex's turn, we talked more about what he is good at. He wanted to hear it repeated that he was good at things. I explain to the kids all the time that one may be fast, but the other can run long distances; one may be good in the water, but the other is good on the tricycle. We all have our strengths and weaknesses.
The next day, we talked about whether Alex could handle having Izzy in his karate class. It was, after all, his sport, and if he wanted to keep it that way, I would have to find another time of day for Izzy to have a lesson. At first Alex said he did not want Izzy in his class, but Izzy piped up that she wanted to join him. I explained that since they are best friends, they should find it fun to be together in a class. Finally, Alex agreed to let Izzy try it one more time and to then decide if he wanted her in class or not.
The next day at class, I cheated slightly. I kept Izzy in my lap for the first part of class while Alex got settled in and was the center of attention. Then, I let Izzy joined. She did well for about 10 minutes and then lost interest. I also joined the class, to participate with the kids. Alex maintained his poise, and was completely happy at the end of the class. We had one major success. Not sure if it will last, it may need to be readdressed, but for now, we had a success and the more successes in the bank, the better we will be prepared for the downturns.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
The Daily Biathlon
Thank goodness it is finally summer. We are not a family of winter athletes, and every year when warm mornings mean running in shorts at 6am, I take a huge breath and relax.
This summer, we have instituted the family morning run. Alex, Izzy and I have been working on our morning runs for weeks now, and we finally have begun to make some progress. They both, thankfully, love to run. The whole concept began when I started making them get out of the babyjogger during my morning runs when they were hitting each other, and making them run alongside me until they were tired and in theory, too tired to hit anymore. They did stop hitting, but only because they spend most of the run running rather than riding, and when they are resting in the jogger, they are pooped.
We start with everyone running, and then as each of the kids gets tired, he or she crawls into the jogger to rest and then gets out again when rested. They can run about 1.5 miles during a 5 mile run. I bring lots of snacks and drinks, because they really need them to get through so much exercise. At every street corner, I yell "Stop, look and listen" and after weeks of practice, they get that they are supposed to stop, look and listen for cars, and wait for Mommy to give the "go" before running again.
Recently, because of the heat and the biting insects, I brought their tricycles into the living room. Neither of them can ride their tricycles, but they are trying hard. So, while I spin on my bike, they ride around in front of me. And then we go off for our run. We call this our biathlon, and kids now know that "bi" means two and "tri" means three and we do some lessons on other words that begin with those beginnings. A little mommy school thrown in there.
The kids are very proud of their morning accomplishments. Alex thinks we should go the whole way and add swimming so that we can do a triathlon. We will at some point, but since we don't have a pool, the logistics get slightly more complicated. But, as I promised him, we will add the swim leg. He thinks it should come last since you get so hot and tired by the first two.
Anyway, I recommend morning workout to anyone with the time to invest in it. The kids get their synapses firing in time for school, which helps them learn and focus, and of course, it builds good exercise habits we hope they will take with them into adulthood. And for Alex, whose balance and leg strength is poor, these morning exercises have helped to strengthen his legs and core, and we pray will improve his long-term outcome.
This summer, we have instituted the family morning run. Alex, Izzy and I have been working on our morning runs for weeks now, and we finally have begun to make some progress. They both, thankfully, love to run. The whole concept began when I started making them get out of the babyjogger during my morning runs when they were hitting each other, and making them run alongside me until they were tired and in theory, too tired to hit anymore. They did stop hitting, but only because they spend most of the run running rather than riding, and when they are resting in the jogger, they are pooped.
We start with everyone running, and then as each of the kids gets tired, he or she crawls into the jogger to rest and then gets out again when rested. They can run about 1.5 miles during a 5 mile run. I bring lots of snacks and drinks, because they really need them to get through so much exercise. At every street corner, I yell "Stop, look and listen" and after weeks of practice, they get that they are supposed to stop, look and listen for cars, and wait for Mommy to give the "go" before running again.
Recently, because of the heat and the biting insects, I brought their tricycles into the living room. Neither of them can ride their tricycles, but they are trying hard. So, while I spin on my bike, they ride around in front of me. And then we go off for our run. We call this our biathlon, and kids now know that "bi" means two and "tri" means three and we do some lessons on other words that begin with those beginnings. A little mommy school thrown in there.
The kids are very proud of their morning accomplishments. Alex thinks we should go the whole way and add swimming so that we can do a triathlon. We will at some point, but since we don't have a pool, the logistics get slightly more complicated. But, as I promised him, we will add the swim leg. He thinks it should come last since you get so hot and tired by the first two.
Anyway, I recommend morning workout to anyone with the time to invest in it. The kids get their synapses firing in time for school, which helps them learn and focus, and of course, it builds good exercise habits we hope they will take with them into adulthood. And for Alex, whose balance and leg strength is poor, these morning exercises have helped to strengthen his legs and core, and we pray will improve his long-term outcome.
Friday, April 15, 2011
A Standing Ovation
In late March, Alex graduated from his ISR swimming lessons. It was one of the more memorable mornings we have had together. On the way into the Y, we ran into our usual contacts, mostly older ladies and gentlemen who attend the water aerobics classes. They have sort of adopted our kids because we swim 4-5 times a week, and our children are so outgoing that they talk to most of the other swimmers. On this morning, Alex informed everyone that he was graduating from his swim lessons. He was pumped. It was a major day in his early life. One of the ladies told Alex that she would watch him (he asked everyone to watch), and then we changed our clothes and went out to the pool. I wasn't really paying attention to Alex's conversations, but was just trying to keep him and Izzy on track to be on time for the lesson.
As Alex changed into his winter clothes, with boots and mittens, he got nervous about his last lesson. He would be flipped over repeatedly and have to swim and float in his ski clothes to graduate. It would hard on an adult, let alone a 30 pound kid. When Alex finally jumped into the water (or maybe I handed him to his instructor because he was so nervous), the entire other end of the pool erupted in applause. I looked up to see that about 30 men and women had stopped their exercise to clap for Alex. They had all been following his month of lessons, and the word had spread that this would be Alex's graduation day. Alex didn't even notice. He just focused on his task. After about 6-7 minutes, he had accomplished his mission, and his instructor stripped him on his clothes and let him float in his bathing suit to reballance. And then, it was over. She handed an exhausted little booby to me for hugs and a warm towel.
And then, the whole place started clapping. I looked up again to see the entire pool clapping for Alex. Alex looked around in complete disbelief. For me? he seemed to say. I couldn't help but burst into tears. How could any of them have known what an amazing day it was to see Alex swim. He can only use one arm/hand and has terrible balance with one leg, which means he is really swimming with one side of his body. But, he swims, he floats, he manages to keep an airway above water, AND, he even loves it.
There are major milestones in the lives of a preemie, and a preemie's parents. We never really know if what we think and hope and pray and dream of will ever really and truly come true for our children. We dream our kids will finally learn to roll over, and then someday take a few steps on their own. While other two year olds are running around and kicking balls, we look at ours and try to be thankful that they can sit up or stand. Although Alex can finally run, he falls every day, trips over his bad foot. As the mother of a preemie, your love is deep, but your heart is hard. It melts at the sight of your child completing anything. As Alex struggles to stay on his tricycle without falling off, I am often reminded of days like his swimming graduation, and my hard heart is made a bit softer.
And then I am reminded, though Alex and his many supporters, that while the world may be a very difficult place for any of us, there are people like the men and women of the water aerobics class whose simple applause made a lifetime of difference in the lives of our family.
As Alex changed into his winter clothes, with boots and mittens, he got nervous about his last lesson. He would be flipped over repeatedly and have to swim and float in his ski clothes to graduate. It would hard on an adult, let alone a 30 pound kid. When Alex finally jumped into the water (or maybe I handed him to his instructor because he was so nervous), the entire other end of the pool erupted in applause. I looked up to see that about 30 men and women had stopped their exercise to clap for Alex. They had all been following his month of lessons, and the word had spread that this would be Alex's graduation day. Alex didn't even notice. He just focused on his task. After about 6-7 minutes, he had accomplished his mission, and his instructor stripped him on his clothes and let him float in his bathing suit to reballance. And then, it was over. She handed an exhausted little booby to me for hugs and a warm towel.
And then, the whole place started clapping. I looked up again to see the entire pool clapping for Alex. Alex looked around in complete disbelief. For me? he seemed to say. I couldn't help but burst into tears. How could any of them have known what an amazing day it was to see Alex swim. He can only use one arm/hand and has terrible balance with one leg, which means he is really swimming with one side of his body. But, he swims, he floats, he manages to keep an airway above water, AND, he even loves it.
There are major milestones in the lives of a preemie, and a preemie's parents. We never really know if what we think and hope and pray and dream of will ever really and truly come true for our children. We dream our kids will finally learn to roll over, and then someday take a few steps on their own. While other two year olds are running around and kicking balls, we look at ours and try to be thankful that they can sit up or stand. Although Alex can finally run, he falls every day, trips over his bad foot. As the mother of a preemie, your love is deep, but your heart is hard. It melts at the sight of your child completing anything. As Alex struggles to stay on his tricycle without falling off, I am often reminded of days like his swimming graduation, and my hard heart is made a bit softer.
And then I am reminded, though Alex and his many supporters, that while the world may be a very difficult place for any of us, there are people like the men and women of the water aerobics class whose simple applause made a lifetime of difference in the lives of our family.
Monday, March 7, 2011
ISR Swimming
One day at our YMCA, I noticed a woman teaching ISR (Infant Swim Resource) swim lessons and at first glance, the lesson seemed a bit rough. The child was crying as he was being thrown backwards in his clothes into the water. He would pop up to the surface and float, then turn onto his tummy and swim, then roll over and float and then turn over again, swim to the edge and get ready to pull himself out of the water. What I didn't realize was that this child was at the end of his ISR swim lesson training and was wearing his winter clothes while his instructor threw him in the water, to simulate falling into the water by accident. This child was going to survive an accidental fall.
Then one day, after several months of daily swimming with my own children, I threw Alex up into the air. I thought he had been learning to swim with me over the winter, but when he landed in the water that day, he sank to the very bottom and stayed there. I pulled him out by his foot and realized that if he were to fall into the many bodies of water that surround our house and daily lives, he would not survive. So, I enrolled Izzy and Alex in ISR swim lessons. We were very worried about how Alex would adapt to these challenging, 10-minute daily lessons, and so we let Izzy start for two weeks so that Alex could witness her success and want to join her. Starting Alex after Izzy turned out to be a good decision and by the time his turn came to take lessons, he was jumping out of his skin for "his turn".
Our swim instructor is very attune to the children she teaches. Each child is taught according to his ability and to how he is adapting to the lessons. She has slightly modified the lessons she gives Izzy to accommodate Alex's different learning style. Izzy jumps into everything and just goes. Alex, more cerebral and deliberate, needs to understand what he is being asked to do. He needs to take very small steps and do them repeatedly, even when it appears he may have mastered that particular step, before he is ready to move on to the next step. Our instructor listens to us and to Alex and has adapted in a way that makes Alex feel comfortable. He is being challenged, but it isn't scary. Although he still cries sometimes during a lessons, it is only briefly and not out of fear, but is his way of showing his emotion.
The incredible result is that after just two lessons, Alex is floating on his back very relaxed, and then she he turns over to swim to the wall (head under water), he does so, with eyes open, very bravely. The instructor provides only the most necessary physical support to allow Alex to feel that he is doing all this swimming on his own. In another few lessons, he will be doing it entirely on his own. When I was instructing him, if I even let go of him with one hand, he had a small meltdown. Now, he is swimming without support and believes he can do it.
I recommend ISR to every parent I meet. Many parents are afraid of the lessons because they see children cry sometimes. I see children cry sometimes in the Y lessons, which aren't even the least bit challenging to the children. And by the end of the ISR sessions (4-6 weeks, depending on the child, of daily 10 minute lessons), the children are water safe. Some can swim with strokes the full length of the pool and the younger ones (6 months) may only float. But none of them will sink to the bottom of the pool when they are thrown in. For children like Alex with physical disabilities, the swim lessons are even more important.
For more info on ISR swimming, visit their website at www.infantswim.com.
Then one day, after several months of daily swimming with my own children, I threw Alex up into the air. I thought he had been learning to swim with me over the winter, but when he landed in the water that day, he sank to the very bottom and stayed there. I pulled him out by his foot and realized that if he were to fall into the many bodies of water that surround our house and daily lives, he would not survive. So, I enrolled Izzy and Alex in ISR swim lessons. We were very worried about how Alex would adapt to these challenging, 10-minute daily lessons, and so we let Izzy start for two weeks so that Alex could witness her success and want to join her. Starting Alex after Izzy turned out to be a good decision and by the time his turn came to take lessons, he was jumping out of his skin for "his turn".
Our swim instructor is very attune to the children she teaches. Each child is taught according to his ability and to how he is adapting to the lessons. She has slightly modified the lessons she gives Izzy to accommodate Alex's different learning style. Izzy jumps into everything and just goes. Alex, more cerebral and deliberate, needs to understand what he is being asked to do. He needs to take very small steps and do them repeatedly, even when it appears he may have mastered that particular step, before he is ready to move on to the next step. Our instructor listens to us and to Alex and has adapted in a way that makes Alex feel comfortable. He is being challenged, but it isn't scary. Although he still cries sometimes during a lessons, it is only briefly and not out of fear, but is his way of showing his emotion.
The incredible result is that after just two lessons, Alex is floating on his back very relaxed, and then she he turns over to swim to the wall (head under water), he does so, with eyes open, very bravely. The instructor provides only the most necessary physical support to allow Alex to feel that he is doing all this swimming on his own. In another few lessons, he will be doing it entirely on his own. When I was instructing him, if I even let go of him with one hand, he had a small meltdown. Now, he is swimming without support and believes he can do it.
I recommend ISR to every parent I meet. Many parents are afraid of the lessons because they see children cry sometimes. I see children cry sometimes in the Y lessons, which aren't even the least bit challenging to the children. And by the end of the ISR sessions (4-6 weeks, depending on the child, of daily 10 minute lessons), the children are water safe. Some can swim with strokes the full length of the pool and the younger ones (6 months) may only float. But none of them will sink to the bottom of the pool when they are thrown in. For children like Alex with physical disabilities, the swim lessons are even more important.
For more info on ISR swimming, visit their website at www.infantswim.com.
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Karate, Karate, Karate
I can not say enough good things about the benefits of martial arts for children. In recent weeks, we have seen some major breakthroughs for Alex, most notable in his balance. All children would benefit from pursuing a martial art, but children with balance issues (and I have read, also children with ADHD and other attention issues) benefit considerably. Until a couple weeks ago, Alex was unable to bend both knees forward to pick up something or do a frog jump. His left leg always bent in, which made his balance poor and did nothing to strengthen the leg. Alex's karate instructor realized Alex's posture when bending would prevent him from moving forward in his karate. So, he began a series of isolated drills and stretches and repeated practice to get the bent leg to stay straight. Once Alex felt the correct posture a few times, he understood what he had been doing wrong and began to self-correct. He now bends correctly all the time. He is so proud of himself for this major accomplishment that he practices it frequently, further strengthening the leg and the synapses of the brain.
I don't know if there has been any research on the frequency and timing of therapy in disabled children, but our observation is that when we do therapy (like karate and swimming) in the morning, Alex is in good spirits. He then naps, and during his sleeping period, he synthesizes the morning's lessons (research HAS been done on the benefits of sleep for children to process what they learn). When we try therapies in the afternoon, Alex is cranky, even if he has napped. He has a small morning window in which he is well-rested and able to happily participate in lessons. For children with physical limitations, their caloric expenditure is many times a child without these limitations, and so they are exhausted by early afternoon (or lunch time, even, in Alex's case). Knowing this, we take extra care and attention to scheduling Alex's daily activities so that we have success.
I don't know if there has been any research on the frequency and timing of therapy in disabled children, but our observation is that when we do therapy (like karate and swimming) in the morning, Alex is in good spirits. He then naps, and during his sleeping period, he synthesizes the morning's lessons (research HAS been done on the benefits of sleep for children to process what they learn). When we try therapies in the afternoon, Alex is cranky, even if he has napped. He has a small morning window in which he is well-rested and able to happily participate in lessons. For children with physical limitations, their caloric expenditure is many times a child without these limitations, and so they are exhausted by early afternoon (or lunch time, even, in Alex's case). Knowing this, we take extra care and attention to scheduling Alex's daily activities so that we have success.
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