Navigating SPD and Team Sports
Fletcher started baseball last week along with his cousin Ava and his best buddy Quincy. He couldn’t wait. He was excited to get back out there after sports were cancelled last summer, but we had some big nervous feelings on the first day of practice. We talked through what he could probably expect, validated his feelings and did some extra heavy work (thankfully he also had OT right before practice). Once he was on the field, he was totally in his element and settled in just fine.
If we’re being honest, I was anxious before his first practice, too. I wasn’t sure if I should tell his coach about his sensory challenges as I had done in the past, or if I should just wait and see how things played out, giving them the opportunity to get to know each other without any preconceived notions. I opted for the latter. Sensory Processing Disorder plays a leading role in our lives, but it doesn’t define Fletcher. I wanted to give his six-year-old self a little independence and autonomy and a chance to establish new relationships without the overzealous mettling of an anxious, hovering mom who just wants to protect him…from now until forever.
When we arrived, my nerves disappeared the minute I saw the other kids on the field. His teammates were just as active and playful as Fletcher….we were clearly among our people. That feeling always gives me the gift of a sigh of relief, a clear mind and a sense of calm. We were ready to play ball.
Now… let’s be clear. Being the parent of a child with SPD (or any exceptional needs for that matter) typically doesn’t mean dropping your kid off at practice and coming back to pick them up an hour later. In my experience, it’s the constant dance of being present enough to intervene when it’s necessary while knowing when to let situations play out and providing just enough freedom that your child can successfully navigate social situations independently, but not too much that it becomes overwhelming for them. It’s incredibly difficult to prepare for that kind of ambiguity. There are so many variables – many of which are completely out of your control.
The first night of practice went great, as did his second practice from where I was sitting in the stands. Fletcher was attentive, followed directions, was eager to do what his coach asked and was interacting with many of the kids on his team – not just sitting in a comfortable bubble with his cousin and friend.
Towards the end of practice, the kids had to wait in a long line for their turn to try hitting. Attention spans were waning and some were getting a little fidgety. But Fletcher did pretty well there, too. For us, waiting is often really hard and so is anticipation. So I was proud of him for keeping it together.
After practice, Ava came running up to let me know that the mom of another little boy on their team was talking to the coach about Fletcher. Apparently he had playfully put his hands on her son and she was upset. She discreetly talked to Fletcher directly saying “let this be the last time you put your hands on my son” without me knowing and then spoke to the coach about it after practice. Had Ava not mentioned anything, I wouldn’t have even known any of this happened.
I felt compelled to talk to the coach and explain that Fletcher struggles with sensory processing and a part of that includes difficulty understanding boundaries at times. “This is a safe space for everyone,” the coach replied quickly and confidently. While it didn’t mitigate my frustration and hurt feelings, it certainly made me appreciate that Fletcher has a coach who is going to work to support all of the children on his team. That’s a win in and of itself.
Fletcher seemed unphased by this whole scenario despite his cousin being acutely aware of what had taken place. On our ride home, I asked Fletcher general questions to try and get more information on how this played out without imparting my feelings of frustration and anger (with how the mom handled things) onto him. When he finally told me that this mom had talked to him, I asked him why he didn’t tell me. “Because I didn’t want you to feel bad, Mom,” he said.
My friend Amber described it best by referring to my Mama Bear feelings as heart-stabby. I sat in that heart-stabby state for the hours following practice. And I realize it’s because for me, being a parent is so deeply personal. We work so hard at home to make sure Fletcher has the tools and strategies he needs to be successful and he works really hard, too. When I send my child out onto a field or into a classroom, I’m sending a giant piece of myself with zero protection and I have very little control over his environment, his actions or the actions of others. Every single time I’m simultaneously proud, nervous-excited and terrified. Every. Single. Time.
I can rationalize in my head that not all people recognize the varying needs of children, nor do they always have the capacity to be compassionate… and quite frankly sometimes people simply just don’t care if it isn’t their child. What I struggled with the most in this situation is that someone would directly address a child they have no relationship with (and know nothing about) without involving a parent or coach – especially at this level. Fletcher is six.
After a few tears and a little reflection as I worked through the prickly, heart-stabby feelings this situation left me with, here are my takeaways:
Prepare, Prepare, Prepare (children and adults): Team sports can be hard, especially the first few practices while trying to get everyone organized and into a routine. Implementing some strategies can be helpful. I didn’t prep Fletcher for this like I normally would have, as we’re new to the league and didn’t quite know what to expect. Now we know. If I were to do this over again, I’d work with him to develop strategies for what to do during idle time. (Ask someone to play catch, do jumping jacks, run in place, play rock, paper, scissors, ask the coach if there’s something he can help with, etc.) and I’d also spend a little more time working on personal boundaries in that specific environment. Maybe some role playing that includes the notion that knocking someone’s baseball hat might look fun, but most people won’t love it.
Prepping the coach ahead of the first practice may not have eliminated this situation completely, but could’ve maybe given him some things to watch for. So for the foreseeable future, I’ll be making sure adults who work with Fletcher understand his needs. The tricky part is doing so in a way that helps folks see the whole person rather than focusing on areas of struggle. We weren’t quite ready for a “wait and see” scenario. I’m working on a quick at-a-glance that outlines his strengths and areas that are more challenging – kind of like a play card, but specific to his needs. I don’t want to overwhelm anyone with too much information, but also want to provide them with quick access to helpful tips that will promote success on all sides.
Support: We tend to travel in a pack which means signing Fletcher up for activities with a buddy or his cousin, or in this case both. And this situation made me realize that not only does Fletcher benefit from that kind of support, but so do I. I needed Ava there for Fletcher’s sake and I needed my sister and my friend Amber there for me. Find your people when you can and support each other – in school, at home and even on the baseball field. It takes a village. Seriously.
Tune Out the Noise: Team sports usually involve being among other parents and families. Most are wonderful. But there will always be some who for whatever reason just lack compassion, sensitivity, empathy…. I’m learning that while it’s easy to let one negative comment or gesture put a sour spin on an evening – it’s just not worth it. Folks who bring negativity to youth sports simply aren’t my people. That’s not to say that you shouldn’t engage with them If there’s a teachable moment or a positive opportunity to connect. But generally speaking, I think it’s perfectly acceptable to tune out the noise and focus on what you can control and why you’re there. (I’m totally speaking to myself with this one!)
Tools in Your Toolbox: Sports of any kind can be a recipe for sensory overload – loud noises, scratchy uniform fabric, bugs, new smells, uncontrolled temperature, lots of instructions given at once, lots of people moving about. But that’s not to say that it has to be overwhelming one hundred percent of the time and being in the right team environment promotes the development of wonderful skills. Pack plenty of tools in your toolbox (noise cancelling headphones if your child uses them, change of clothing, compression items, a different pair of socks, bug spray, sun screen, water, snacks, fidgets, etc.), make sure your child knows you have them and that they’re able to access tools when needed. Sometimes Fletcher just needs to know that we have a certain thing with us – even if he doesn’t actually need to use it.