by Annie | Mar 16, 2021 | Blog
One year. We’ve been at this for an entire year. To think that 365 days ago I was naïve enough to find myself worrying about surviving two whole weeks at home. That’s what we initially thought. Two weeks…maybe a month. As the days and weeks increased…so did my anxiety.
But it’s during this pandemic that I/we have learned some invaluable lessons about doing what’s best for our family. While we will most certainly enjoy some of the pleasures of pre-pandemic life (like safely gathering with family and friends), we also know that there will be things we won’t be in any hurry to change as the world begins to reopen.
We were a family on the go. In addition to multiple weekly therapy appointments and school for Fletcher, we had our kids enrolled in activities like swimming lessons, Toddler Time, and ninja class and would use our annual passes to the Zoo and a nearby trampoline park frequently as an outlet for all their energy. We’d spend time with family and friends, go for hikes or visit playgrounds, and occasionally leave town for a weekend adventure. We rarely had any extended periods of downtime at home with just the four of us. And to be honest, I’m not even sure I would have known what to do with that down time if we’d had it. (emphasis on me in this scenario.)
Early in the pandemic, like many, I started to feel like the walls were closing in on me. There were so many unknowns. I was terrified about my family and friends who were considered high risk if they contracted COVID-19. I was nervous about how life coming to a screeching halt would impact our boys. I wondered if we had enough food and supplies – did we stock up on the right things? I ached for those in our community who didn’t have the privilege of “stocking up” and struggled with how to help while keeping my family and immunocompromised loved ones safe. I felt overwhelmed, unsettled, lost.
Mike and I tried to be supportive of one another while navigating our individual fears and being cut-off from the in-the-flesh support that our families and friends provided. Often, that support breathed life into our family – and our marriage. We were adjusting to the four of us being home all day, every day, and how to balance structure and free play. I clung to spreadsheet schedules and carefully planned activities, forcing structure into our days by any means necessary. And I inflicted stress and pressure on myself in order to do so.
When Mike returned to virtual teaching, we again had to adjust. I had to somehow keep our boys engaged (and quiet) while he taught. And we didn’t have any real destinations to safely take us out of the house. I was a mess. By the end of the day I had very little left to give to anyone and Mike felt helpless.
Mike and I held each other up, but life was hard. And sometimes that meant that we also struggled to see things through the eyes of our partner. Some days it felt like we were the greatest team while other days were filled with tense moments. Moments that made us question if our rock-solid foundation was solid…enough.
As our Wisconsin weather got warm enough to tolerate being outside, we committed to taking walks alone as a way to get a little exercise and some space from the demands of home. We aimed to make a daily walk happen for each of us and at first, it felt like an out of body experience. Even though I needed a break from the intensity of life with Fletcher and Max, I also didn’t want to leave them. It was a strange dichotomy really. It wasn’t long before I began to reap the benefits of deep, cleansing breaths full of crisp, fresh air…one of Mother Nature’s greatest gifts. I began to crave this alone time and started listening to podcasts or music as a way to help tone down my anxiety. I stumbled upon Brene Brown’s Unlocking Us podcast. Her episode from March 27th, 2020, titled Comparative Suffering, the 50/50 Myth and Settling the Ball changed our game.
In this podcast, she began by validating the exhaustion and level of weary that all of us were experiencing from the onset of the pandemic – the extreme fatigue after the adrenaline surge resulting from crisis. Her words were comforting in a moment I needed them – my deep breaths were audible and the pressure in my chest started to subside as I seemingly clung to her every word. Midway through her podcast she began discussing her family’s gap plan where she immediately debunked the myth that relationships are always 50/50…because they most definitely are not. I felt so seen. This had been a struggle for us, especially as we not so gracefully transitioned to life in quarantine.
She went on to talk about percentages and the importance of naming at what level you’re functioning for your partner (20%, 40%, 50%, etc.) and having them do the same. If you’re collectively functioning below 100% there’s a gap that somehow needs to be filled. This is where the gap plan comes into play. What happens when both partners are below 50%? How do you make up the gap to get to 100%? She suggested her family’s strategies of sleep, moving your body, eating well, limiting access to news, and being able to talk about when you’re having a hard time.
Lightbulb moment. I was feeling stressed, overwhelmed and frustrated. I was exhausted in every sense of the word and was maybe operating at 30%…tops. I was subconsciously expecting Mike to make up the remaining 70%, not considering that he, too, likely had a tank approaching empty. Of course, this shifted frequently in our house. Sometimes by the minute. High anxiety moments with the boys would quickly zap one or both of us of all we had. It literally felt like we were always operating below 100 and it was our relationship that suffered the most.
I got home from my walk feeling slightly hopeful. I told Mike that I thought we needed to do a better job of checking in with each other – especially amid such a stressful time. I suggested that he listen to the podcast. He did, and it resonated with him, too. Just like Zones of Regulation gave Fletcher the language he needed to describe how his body was feeling, this gave us a vehicle for communicating at what level we were operating in a particular moment. It was a tangible turning point for us – one I revisit frequently in my mind.
Now let me be clear that the remainder of the year hasn’t been all roses and rainbows. Raising children is hard. Raising children with sensory processing challenges adds some really difficult layers. And raising children with sensory processing challenges during a pandemic often feels impossible. How do you help children who already feel so out of control feel settled and content during a time with such tremendous uncertainties? Most days, we’ve struggled to do that as adults.
Virtual learning nearly wrecked us. It doesn’t look or feel like “school” and our very bright, but incredibly literal Fletcher wasn’t initially on board. His beginning of the year excitement was fleeting. By day two, once he realized he could “see” his friends, but not actually be with them in person, we began to see behaviors we hadn’t seen…ever. We anticipated that this would be hard on him, but we didn’t know to what degree. And it was difficult to adequately prepare him for an experience we weren’t familiar with either.
It got to the point where Fletcher and I were both crying daily, sometimes multiple times. It didn’t take me long to figure out that none of it was worth the figurative price we were paying. But I didn’t know what to do next. With the encouragement of some of our nearest and dearest, we decided to take a two-week break from virtual school in late September. To be honest, I wasn’t sure we’d return. It wasn’t a popular decision with Fletcher’s teacher who was looking out for his best interest, but Fletcher and I both needed time to regroup. Ultimately, Mike and I knew him best and while stressful, that decision would later reinforce for me the importance of trusting your gut as a parent.
Our two-week hiatus from virtual learning was filled with hours spent outside. We hiked, skipped rocks, rode bikes, played at parks, spent afternoons on swings, splashing in puddles and collecting leaves. We spent time with the few family members in our bubble, did science experiments, baked, snuggled on the couch. We healed and prepared for our next move – whatever that would be.
During this time, we worked on Fletcher’s virtual assignments as it felt manageable, but it was never forced. Partly because I just didn’t have the energy to fight and I was working hard to make sure Max was getting his needs met, too. Fletcher is the type of kid who never forgets a negative experience and will almost always associate that particular event with feelings of stress, sadness or fear. I felt like we were towing an exceptionally fine line. And we couldn’t afford for school to become so negative so early in his educational career – after all, he had just started kindergarten.
Our two-week break turned out to be the reset we needed. While I was ready to pull him out of school completely, I recognized the value in having some structured school time for Fletcher. He thrives on structure, particularly if it isn’t initiated by his mom. Rather than jumping back into virtual learning full steam ahead, we started with one or two classes a day and then gradually added to that until he was fully participating in all core academic classes. We made the decision to focus our energy there and did not include art, music, or physical education. In fact, we are still opting out of his specials. Fletcher needs frequent movement breaks and time away from his computer to recharge. Adding in those additional classes was far too much for him to handle. We’re six months from our transition back to virtual learning and during a recent conference with Fletcher’s teacher, she gushed about his progress and gave him all “excellents.” I could have cried. What a difficult journey it has been.
We have regularly heard the word “pivot” during the last 12 months. Almost at nauseum. Businesses have had to pivot how they serve their customers (I hope curbside doesn’t ever become a thing of the past!), employers have had to pivot to allow staff to work remotely, health care facilities have pivoted to virtual visits, schools have pivoted to virtual learning, families have had to pivot how they care for and educate their children…Life has had to…pivot.
Despite being our most challenging year, our family’s pandemic pivot has strengthened us in ways we never could have anticipated.
It forced us to take a dramatic pause. That pause gave us the time and space to tune in to what all of us need. Now we have a better idea of how to live a purposeful and intentional life moving forward.
It has produced difficult decision-making scenarios which challenged us to lean-in and trust that we know what’s best for our boys and our family. (There were moments we could have been swayed, but we stuck to our convictions and we’re so glad we did.)
It completely altered how Mike and I check-in with each other. We’re not perfect, but we now have more tools in our toolbox paired with a collective desire to band together – even in the hardest moments.
It helped us realize that we love to be at home and our boys don’t actually need a jam-packed schedule with a million transitions to be content (just the thought of that stresses me out!). In fact, they’d prefer more downtime. (This lesson was mainly for always-on-the-go me!)
It helped me see that while I like to have control over situations and tend to approach things from a place of structure and routine, there is value in making space for things to unfold organically. I have come to appreciate less rigidity. (Again, this one was for me!)
It gave our family time together that we never would have had. It certainly wasn’t free of heartache, stress and frustration, but it helped us get to know each other better – as odd as that sounds.
It reinforced for me that my gut never lies. But in order to listen to my instincts I have to find the time and space to do so. This pandemic has reintroduced me to meditation as a way of really tuning into myself, although sometimes easier said than done. I have found a love of guided meditation and appreciate that there are so many options online.
It pushed me back to bi-weekly therapy sessions which is the greatest, most consistent form of self-care I’ve ever had.
It taught us that even when things are hard, there is a certain kind of resilience that comes from love. We certainly rely heavily on each other, but are also strengthened by the love of family and friends. Even when it’s the tough kind.
We’re not out of the woods yet, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. As hope glimmers on the horizon, I am grieving all that has been lost in the last year (most importantly the loss of life), while simultaneously feeling grateful for all that we’ve gained. How do you even begin to reconcile that?
I haven’t always been a hugger but among so many other things, that has been altered during the last year, too. Forever changed by our pandemic pivot, I can’t wait to tightly, warmly, and lovingly wrap my arms around all of my people in the biggest embrace of hope.
by Annie | Mar 13, 2021 | Blog
Let me tell you about Fletcher and his cousin, Ava. We call them cousin-siblings. Without sharing parents or residing under the same roof, they are as close to brother and sister as two children could possibly be. They are alike in the best, but most challenging ways – steadfast in their respective convictions, headstrong, sensitive and articulate. They don’t necessarily agree on most things, but they’re always the first to come to the others’ defense. They struggle with their own individual sensory integration challenges which means that usually the first twenty minutes of a visit is a roller coaster of emotions while they settle in. In time, they find their sweet spot and *usually* play with wild imaginations fueled by boundless energy. Watching them navigate their world of wonder when they find their stride is one of my greatest joys.
I discovered last summer that Fletcher and Ava are most successful when there is a neutral, guided activity to aid in their transition. Since we are in a shared pandemic bubble, we spend a lot of time together. In August I found myself preparing to home school them just in case virtual learning wasn’t a good fit – there were so many uncertainties then. As I found what I thought were fun and engaging activities, I’d give them a test drive. This is where fluffy slime entered our lives, made itself comfy and never left!
The first time we made it, I spread a vinyl picnic blanket out on the grass under the shade of a big tree in our backyard. It was a warm, sunny day in late summer. With fall looming, we were finding any reason to be outside. I brought out our ingredients – bowls, wooden spoons, measuring cups, Elmer’s glue, contact solution, baking soda, shaving cream, water. After some debate over who got which bowl, my little sensory scientists found their focus.
We followed the instructions exactly (there are a lot of recipes and videos online, we follow the version on The Best Ideas for Kids). And they were thrilled with the outcome. I was completely amazed when over an hour later, they were still completely enthralled with the end result of their experiment. Fluffy slime went down the slide, it went on the swings, it climbed, it ran, it was stretched and squished, and became an integral part of their make-believe play. They talked about how it turned from a liquid to a solid and dreamed of all the color combinations they would make the next time. They were completely regulated – with the help of all of the sensory input that beautiful fluffy slime provided. (They tend to like it better than traditional slime – it isn’t as gooey, slimy or super sticky after all the ingredients are incorporated.)
Since that summer day, fluffy slime has been the most highly sought-after activity from this pair of cousin-siblings. In fact, we made a fresh batch yesterday at Ava’s request (and to my delight). We made a last-minute addition of gold glitter to our green fluffy slime – after all, St. Patrick’s Day is right around the corner.
During yesterday’s fluffy slime adventure, I was reminded of a few pro-tips…
- If you are making this with multiple kiddos, I recommend pre-measuring the ingredients so they can actively pour and mix at the same time and no one has to wait. (Waiting, while a wonderful life skill, is realllllllly hard for our bunch and too much of it can make an activity go south in a snap!)
- Pay close attention to the specifics about the contact solution and shaving cream ingredients. It’s make or break.
- This slime is fun with or without color. We’ve used food coloring which is super messy and gets all over hands and arms – that part isn’t my favorite. We’ve also made it without color. The natural white color can be just as fun. We haven’t experimented with food dyes, but you could try a natural dye from berries or beets maybe to see how that turns out! (If you do, let me know how it goes!)
- Fluffy slime lends itself to add-ins like glitter, sprinkles, or event that little confetti people use to sprinkle on tables for parties or in cards (it’s not paper) – anything, really. Use your imagination to add dimension and additional sensory elements.
- You can also experiment with the various sounds that fluffy slime makes. I’m sure you can imagine what the fan favorite is with my crew. Because apparently flatulence in any form is just never NOT funny. 🙂
Photos of our fluffy slime adventures can be found on Swinging in the Rain’s Facebook and Instagram pages.
by Annie | Mar 12, 2021 | Blog
This morning I let myself feel how hard all of this can sometimes be. I don’t do that often, and I didn’t stay there long. But I needed to give myself a minute to acknowledge that I had reached my limit rather than just plowing ahead and pretending that everything felt manageable. The reality of serving as the ultimate safe space and emotional regulator for my beloved boys is that it just isn’t always… manageable.
Fletcher has hovered at “over the top” most of the week and was struggling with virtual learning this morning. The internet went out for a brief moment during his morning meeting and that was enough to throw him off kilter. Despite being “able” to do the work in tandem with his class, he “needed” me…my constant acknowledgement of him being on task and doing a great job and my most undivided, deliberate focus. Except at the same moment, Max was screeching to get my attention. Peppa Pig had paused and he “needed” another snack. Today, Max was more progressive snack buffet than any form of a well-rounded meal. His high pitched screeching, while his way of communicating his needs, is one of Fletcher’s greatest triggers. Fletcher’s auditory system has a hard time processing the frequency… so when there’s screeching from Max, there is almost always yelling from Fletcher – a cry of agony. It’s worth mentioning that the dog was also scratching at the back door, tenaciously requesting to go out for the third time in fifteen minutes. My mind was racing with all the things I have on my to do list and my anxiety was positioned to hit the top of the Richter scale. It was too much at once – propelling me into my own form of sensory dysregulation. The tart, bitterness of lemons overpowering any effort to taste the sugary sweetness of lemonade in that moment. Can anyone relate?
It’s Friday and the end of what has felt like a long and exceptionally difficult week. Likely the byproduct of changing weather, daylight savings time looming and hitting the one-year milestone of living life in a pandemic. Normally I try to push through feelings that contradict my steadfast desire to remain hopeful, optimistic and totally dialed in. But not today.
Today I gave myself the space to feel it all. And the grace to avoid any obligation to find the silver lining for a moment. I turned on an audio book (my most consistent form of self care lately), lit a candle that reminded me of quality time spent with my mom and sisters, drank some coffee, called my mom (I’m quickly approaching 40 and she often still serves as MY emotional regulator) and connected with a few friends via quick texts.
It didn’t necessarily mitigate the overwhelming feeling of simultaneously being pulled in a million directions, or the frustration of still living life in a pandemic. Or the staggering desire for a break. But allowing myself to live in the feelings for a brief moment felt like an empowering reset. A conscious choice. And after a little bit, I revisited my mantra from last week…”Pull your hair back, pour some coffee, handle it.”
And that’s exactly what I’ll do today. Handle it. I just needed to take a brief detour, pausing with my flashers on to tend to my own needs and feelings before finding my way there. Now…does anyone have a wand they can wave that will magically deep clean my house and permanently eliminate all of the clutter? If so… I’m your girl. I’m fantasizing about living a minimalist lifestyle in a pristine, modern RV. I should probably cool-it with the documentaries, ha.
Sending some extra love and grace to those having a day or week that’s more lemons than lemonade. May you find a moment to pause, feel all the feelings, and then find a clear path forward.
by Annie | Mar 10, 2021 | Blog
I don’t know about you, but Monday came in like a LION over here (and actually Tuesday and Wednesday did too… is it the weather?!). In the midst of our rollercoaster of a morning, my sister sent me a TikTok video that included a recipe for cloud dough (bless her for coming through with a great idea when I needed it!). I showed it to Fletcher and he wanted to make it IMMEDIATELY.
Since we’re still doing school virtually, we have an extra hour in the mornings. Sometimes that’s helpful and other times it’s more of a challenge. Yesterday, it was the former, as it allowed us a little more time to settle into the day. When Fletcher expressed an interest in making the recipe, I quickly gathered the ingredients (cheap conditioner and cornstarch) so as not to miss the window of opportunity and we got to work.
It was super simple – 2 parts cornstarch to 1 part conditioner. You can choose to include food coloring, but we tend to be food coloring enthusiasts and it was right before we needed to get online so I didn’t even mention it…we’ll save that for a weekend. And clouds are white…. so it worked!
We made two batches and found that the dough formed better by incorporating the ingredients by hand rather than using a wooden spoon or spatula. The kneading, folding and mixing of the cornstarch and conditioner gave Fletcher some really nice sensory input and seemed to slow his racing mind a bit. And… it was just enough to ease his transition into school. For that, I was incredibly grateful.
We left the ball of cloud dough in a bowl on the table and Fletcher played with it in between his virtual classes throughout the day. It’s a nice consistency – more play dough than slime or oobleck which tend to be a lot messier. Max, who tends to avoid weird or slimy textures, even gave the dough a few drive-by, non-committal pokes which was a win for him! We will, without a doubt, be adding this recipe to our sensory tool box.
There are tons of recipes online if you search for Cloud Dough. Some include other ingredients and flare, but I loved this minimalist approach – super easy! For all you TikTok lovers, you can view the video we used for our recipe here.
Now… here’s to easier mornings the rest of the week?! I’m speaking that into existence for all of us :).
by Annie | Mar 6, 2021 | Blog
While usually a welcome break from the weekly grind, weekends can also be hard. We thrive on structure and even though we all need a break come Friday, we also still need activities to keep us engaged so we aren’t completely off the rails come Monday. When the weather is nice, we’re outside as much as possible. Hiking, throwing the baseball around, visiting parks and playgrounds. Winter months are a little trickier, however. So we work to find other ways to structure our time – board games, cards, obstacle courses, tub time, sensory bins, and some messy fun.
We do a lot of science experiments in our house. Fletcher loves mixing baking soda and vinegar and watching it overflow out of a glass jar . He enjoys using food coloring to make different color combinations and really anything that encourages him to put on safety goggles and an apron so he “looks the part.” It never fails. That highly sought-after “reaction” never seizes to amaze him and I hope he never loses his sense of wonder.
We recently made Oobleck. It was a first for us and at the time I didn’t realize that this science experiment is derived from Dr. Seuss’s book, Bartholomew and the Oobleck. It turns out the timing is great since most elementary schools celebrated Dr. Seuss’s birthday this past week.
While our sensory-avoider wasn’t a fan of this gooey substance, our sensory-seeker was all in. Fletcher was enamored with how Oobleck transitions from a solid to a liquid and back to a solid again. He enjoyed playing with color combinations, dipping his hands as far into the bowl as he could, and pounding it onto the table all the while describing what he was feeling, seeing and hearing. Mixing all of the ingredients also incorporated a little heavy work (bonus!). It’s a sensory-seeker’s dream.
The great part about Oobleck is it isn’t fancy. The recipe calls for cornstarch, water and food coloring which are items many of us have on hand. If you search for Oobleck online, you’ll have lots of options to choose from and even some instructional videos. We used a recipe from the Scientific American.
I want to qualify this post by saying that sometimes finding fun and engaging weekend activities feels effortless, but often we’re so exhausted from the week that it feels like one more thing. Do we have screen time in our house? Yes. Sometimes that feels like the only way to center our guys for a moment, an opportunity for us to take a breath and regroup. And while there always seems to be that voice in the back of my head reminding me of all the reasons screen time is the devil, I have to counteract that by giving myself grace (easier said than done). We’re in the middle of a pandemic and at the tail end of winter. I don’t love screen time for our boys, but I also know that sometimes we have to do what keeps us sane. And I’m extending that same grace to all of you. XOXO
Happy weekend!
by Annie | Mar 2, 2021 | Blog
Whew. We are on the struggle bus this week. It’s Tuesday, but everything has felt hard. EVERYTHING. I think it’s a combination of things – we’re burned out from virtual learning, the weather is still cold so we haven’t had as much outside time, there was a full moon over the weekend and maybe a growth spurt.
What could normally be a quick “Fletcher, when the timer goes off, please put your shoes on.” “Okay, Mom.” exchange has become a knock-down drag-out battle of the wills. Every. Single. Time. It doesn’t seem to matter what strategies I try to employ or how much lead time I give him. As he has said, “it’s just too hard.”
I noticed that I was losing it a bit this morning. My patience isn’t infinite and even when I dig as deeply as I can, sometimes there just isn’t anything left in my tank. But before I had a pity party (that’s not to say you shouldn’t let yourself feel all the emotions that come with this journey. You absolutely should. All of those feelings are valid.) I remembered a shirt I saw yesterday. It said something similar to “Put your hair up. Pour some coffee. Handle it.”
Yes…handle it. That little mantra allowed me to get out of my head and out of my feelings and handle it today. After a really tough day yesterday, Fletcher started out the day with what felt like a 180. I was hopeful. We changed things up a bit, really limited screen time and made sure to start preparing him for today by talking through our day last night. But by his morning break time it was clear he needed a giant dose of sensory input to help him regulate and organize. I had been the recipient of his dysregulation this morning and while I knew it wasn’t personal, I also knew I could not sustain a calm response to his sharp words and impulsive actions for the remainder of the day. I needed to handle it.
Normally between his virtual meets we sneak in a dance break or some other movement, but I wasn’t sure that would be enough. So instead, we took our puppy on a walk and stacked sensory strategy on sensory strategy on sensory strategy – packing in as much as we could. In addition to Fletcher moving his body in the cold fresh air which is good input to begin with, I gave him a blow pop. We try to avoid added sugar if we can help it, but I knew that today he could use the extra input punch of sucking that tart candy shell and then chewing the gum at the center. I had him hold onto the leash for a bit so he’d also get the resistance of our energetic pup pulling in various directions (heavy work) and we ended our walk at the nearby playground.
Like he does with most things, Fletcher experienced our walk with all of his senses, finding even more ways to get the input he so desperately needed. He forcefully stomped on ice, climbed uneven snow banks, held frozen icicles, shouted while we were under a freeway overpass to hear his loud echo, noticed snow that had melted into the shape of a heart, felt the frigid air on his cheeks and furiously pumped his legs on a swing at the park. All in a matter of 30 minutes.
There was a noticeable difference in his ability to focus for his next virtual class. He loathes fine motor activities, but he cut several items, glued them onto a separate sheet and was so engaged that he eagerly contributed to the class discussion when called on. He put his weighted blanket on his lap independently, didn’t use any of his fidgets and didn’t need any coaching to stay on task. THAT was a 180.
Fletcher and I were alone together in the car shortly after he finished school for the day. He asked me to turn on our favorite song and we sang at the top of our lungs together – it’s our tried and true collective reset button that we use several times a week. We ALWAYS feel better afterwards.
And now here I sit. Overly caffeinated, ponytail a little higher and tighter than normal, celebrating that IT…was handled. I have been at this long enough to know that what worked today may not work tomorrow, but I’ve also learned the importance of acknowledging and being proud of small victories. It helps me live in the moment, reminding myself that even though this can be hard, in the words of Glennon Doyle, “we can do hard things.”
