He spaces out.
We all know it. Me. The Grands. The Uncles. It’s just one of his ”things”.
We just wait a few seconds while his eyes grow wide and then one of us touches his cheek or says his name and waits for him to see us again.
Cuz he’s spacing out.
After all the exhaustive behaviors this has always been the least worrisome.
Until our (very nice) new Dr. Man addressed it. He was worried. His expression changed. He looked at my boy running around the office, flapping his hands and squealing. And Dr. Man said the word.
“Petit mal seizures. Zone out seizures.”
And that’s not even all of it.
All that screaming, chest arching, arm thrashing that has woken me up hour after hour at night for years? Maybe they aren’t night terrors after all. “Sleep seizures.” Who knew there were so many kinds?
“Have you had an EEG done? Do you want it set up right away?”
My boy didn’t become a different person with “autism, sensory processing disorder, impulse control disorder, AD/HD, speech disorders, neurological and musculoskeletal disorder” anymore than he did when Grandpa called him “B” instead of “Boy”. He’s the same boy he was before all those words came along; he just has more people helping him.
|If only they ALL fit on that shelf! Problems, problems.|
After almost five years into my adventure in mommyhood, adding one more log on the fire doesn’t really change much around here; Boy is playing Legos so I am pouring myself out to the internet. Same ‘ol, same ‘ol.
And tonight I will do what I always do at night when new words come into our lives, just as I have with the ones that have come before; I’m going to remember that new words are just new words, and we only need new words so we can address them and help my Boy get on with life.
So here’s to new words.