Melt down vs. Temper Tantrum

I began writing this blog years ago as a form of therapy.  I needed an outlet to voice my pain, fears, and frustration.  Conversely, I felt a desire to express the great joy that comes with being the parent of such an extraordinary son as ours.  As an educator, I also felt the need to educate others about children like our son.  Children that seem to be stuck in the middle.  They aren't "normal" but they also aren't severely "special".  They are only mildly special.  I wanted other parents experiencing a similar journey to know that they aren't alone.  I also wanted those who sit in judgement of parents to recognize that often there are circumstances beyond their understanding.  Compassion can go a very long way.

One area of parenting that seems to bring the most swift and negative judgements from others are melt down behaviors.  After the morning that we experienced, I felt the need to "educate" others about the difference between a melt down and a temper tantrum.  I assure you that there is a clear and definitive difference.  According to the U.S. National Library of Medicine, "temper tantrums are unpleasant and disruptive behaviors or emotional outbursts.  They often occur in response to unmet needs or desires.  Tantrums are most likely to occur in younger children or others who cannot express their needs or control their emotions when they get frustrated."  A melt down can be very different.  They are not caused by a spoiled child not getting a toy or treat.  It is not being told no you can't go to the zoo.  Quite often, they appear to be triggered by completely innocent or even indecipherable causes.  In other words, they appear to be brought on by actions that would not trigger a "normal" child to tantrum.

This morning our son woke himself up REVVED!  He bound out of bed full of excitement, sound, and movement.  Our oldest son reported that when he ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth, our youngest son brushed his teeth while running in place.  He said his feet were moving faster than his toothbrush.  As he launched himself into the day, he rushed for his Kindle and started to load a game.  He brother intervened and cautioned him that he should plug his Kindle into its charger because it only had forty-five percent battery life and he would want it for the fire hall breakfast.  Those words were the trigger.  Not "you can't have it".  Not "put that down and stop playing now".  A simple reminder that it needed charged so he would have it to use for the day.

Those simple words issued for his benefit, launched our youngest so into a melt down.  He started screaming and running and panicking.  When I attempted to intervene, slow him down, and explain what his brother was trying to say, he began to manically fight back, pushing and screaming.  His eyes were glazed over.  He was repetitively saying the same phrases over and over.  I asked him to cuddle with me for a few minutes.  "Let's just lay down here and calm our breathing.  Relax."  He lay down for less than a minute, body tight, breathing escalated before he started repeating the same phrases over and over again.  He couldn't pull himself out of it.  He was experiencing a melt down.

Please keep in mind that this was 6 am.  Six in the morning.  Our day started with a complete melt down at 6 am as we prepared to go to the fire hall to volunteer for a breakfast fundraiser.  At the peak of our son's meltdown, my husband quickly finished his shower, dressed, and stepped into the moment.  His intervention at that moment snapped our son out of his "state" and he was able to slowly regain control.

We have often experienced that if a melt down cannot be prevented, one parent must ride the storm to the peak.  If we time it correctly, the other parent can step in, state the same words or explanation that the other parent had been attempting to convey, but the intervention of a different person at just the right moment "snaps him out of it".  The problem occurs when we are home alone and he goes into such a state.  Unfortunately, the only solution on those occasions has been to ride out the storm until our son exhausts himself.

As my husband patiently explained the same information to our son that his older brother and I had attempted to convey to him, I silently started sobbing.  It's a horrible experience.  To know that your son is so out of control.  To know that you are helpless to get through to him.  The fear that these moments will never stop, that he will continue to get bigger and stronger and harder to manage, hurts so deep inside that you wonder if that ache will ever heal.

But it does.  And life goes on.  Socks and shoes get put on.  Pills get taken.  Coats get put on and you continue with your day.  For the child, it's over.  His day is still "glitchy".  Things don't seem to connect or click on these days.  You can see the neurological causation at work in other areas more profoundly on these days.  Speech is more bumpy.  Movement is less coordinated.  Thinking is less focused.  Impulsiveness is more prevalent.  For you, these experiences are never truly over because that ache is still there.  You don't know when, where,  or even why the next melt down is coming.

Positives?  Can there be a positive with such an experience?  Today as our son ranted and raced and raved, he stated multiple times "I haven't done this for awhile.  I haven't done this in a long time."  There is the positive.  For the first time ever, there was a verbal recognition on his part that this behavior is not okay.  It is not acceptable.  It must end and not be repeated.  It also tells us that he has been trying to NOT melt down.  He wants to do better... And he has been.  He is correct.  We have not had a melt down in awhile.  I pray it is the last.  That is always my prayer.

A Glimpse into the Future

Sometimes life offers you a glimpse of what your life could be.  We had one of those moments today.  As a treat, my husband and I decided to take our youngest son out for lunch while we were doing some running.   It was at the restaurant that we had a chance to see what life could look like for our youngest son if we don't continue to work to change that trajectory.

At the local pizza shop, a tall man approached us and started speaking loudly to my husband in a familiar manner.  I tuned out the conversation as I attempted to keep our son from spinning off and touching things before we ordered and got him corralled at a table.  When the worker stepped up to the counter and took our order, the other man continued to stand closely to my husband and loudly share a story with him about a time they had eaten lunch together.  I continued to ignore the conversation since our youngest had started trying to tell the worker what he wanted to eat and I wanted to ensure that the young man understood him.  As soon as he had completed his order, my son started to rush toward the drink machine to attempt to dispense his own soda.  I was attempting to intervene and slow him down when I realized my husband was still trying to pay the bill as the tall man continued to loudly talk to him while standing too close for socially accepted behavior.  It was at that point that I tuned in and realized this was a grown man in his early thirties with obvious mental health and/or developmental issues.  It was also obvious that he was well known to the employees and most of the patrons.

We allowed our son to fill his drink as he loudly protested that he could do it.  As I put the lid on the drink and cautioned him to move slowly, our son again loudly proclaimed that he could do it.  At the same time, the tall man continued to loudly, and closely, continue to share his story with the same repetitive phrase popping up in the conversation.  He laughed loudly.  He talked loudly.  It was very clear that he lacked an awareness of social norms and expectations.

His behavior made me very uncomfortable.  Not for the obvious reasons.  Having worked in corrections for eighteen years, I had worked with more than my fair share of people with serious mental health issues.  What made me uncomfortable was the clear commonalities between this tall man and my tall son.  When I looked at this man, I could see a snapshot of what life could be like for my son in the future.  There were many parallels that gave me great unease.

I listened to the other patrons talk and interact with him in the other room.  One seemed to be egging him on to be loud and boisterous.  Some seemed to just want him to go away and leave them alone.  He clearly made them uncomfortable.  Most of the patrons and employees seemed familiar and comfortable with him.  They appeared to know how to help him keep himself under control.  At one point, the one employee said "Inside voice" in a firm yet kind voice.  The tall man repeated "Inside voice" then added "or get the hell out".  This was a conversation that must has occurred on more than one occasion at this establishment.  When the employee delivered our food, he started to apologize for the tall man and his behavior.  My husband reassured the young man that it was no problem, he knew the tall man and we understand he didn't know any better and he meant no harm.

The rest of the meal proceeded without incident and the pizza was DELICIOUS.  As we prepared to leave, my husband stopped to talk to the employees and another man that he knew.  Our son looked at the tall man sitting at a booth in the corner and declared "You're really loud!"  The tall man dropped his head and shook it with chagrin muttering "inside voice".  The moment struck me.  That could be my son in the future.  Loud.  Unaware of physical boundaries.  Unaware of social norms and expectations.  Tall and imposing until you realize that he meant no harm.  Egged on and over excitable with the wrong people.  This could be his future.

But it won't be.  This snapshot will not be my son.  My husband and I work too hard and too diligently.  We recognize his behavioral tendencies but we don't accept them as how he has to be.  We have made progress.  We will continue to make progress.  This will not be his future.  We will see to it.  God has a plan for our son.  We will prepare him for it.

Reflecting on Progress

When you are raising children, there is no pause button.  There is very little time to stop to catch your breath.  Needs must be met and life must go on.  Reflection is often a luxury.

As I have discussed in the past, our youngest son has been deeply entrenched in one of his regression periods of his unique developmental cycle.  It is probably the longest regression that we have experienced.  Because my husband and I are both problem solvers by nature, we strapped on our big people pants and did what needed to be done.  As discussed previously, we met with the neurological team to touch base and bring them up to speed.  Additionally, we enrolled him in out-patient occupational therapy (OT) bi-weekly and speech therapy weekly.  As usual, we stayed in close contact with his support team at school.  We questioned, nagged, and supported as needed.  

After the fall parent/teacher conference, my husband and I looked at each other and pretty much threw up our hands and said "Okay.  What will be, will be."  Everyone involved in his care, including ourselves, couldn't account for the longevity of this regression.  We were all frustrated.  He was impulsive, getting out of his seat; wandering around the classroom; forgetting his books, homework, and personal belongings.  He only passed reading by one point.  He had earned a C in science but miraculously an A in math.  His teacher, a long time veteran of the classroom, looked at us and said "I love his smile.  I love his personality.  He's so very sweet.  I simply do not know what to do with him or for him."  Wow!  Where do you go from there?  We offered suggestions and feedback but knew in actuality that none of us knew what to do with him and for him at this time.  In the past, we have been a resource for his teaching team when they encountered roadblocks with his progress.  We were at the point where we had nothing new to offer.  

As we left the conference that night, we felt helpless.  We went out to dinner for some quiet time as a couple and discussed where we were with our son.  Over dinner, we came to the consensus that we were giving him everything that we had to give.  He had our time, our energy, our focus, and our resources.  We had him in the care of one of the best neurologists his hospital had to offer.  They had touched base with outside resources to ask for suggestions and insight.  No one had anything new to offer.  Everyone on his team at the hospital, at home, and at school truly loved him and wanted the best for him.  Everyone was giving him 100% of what they had to offer.  It seemed to have very little impact.  We were all quite frustrated.  Over dinner, my husband and I decided that we would consider this year a draw.  If we could hold him to his current level of progress without further regression or loss of skills, we would feel successful.  We would be satisfied with our efforts.  When I went to bed that night, I earnestly prayed "God, your will be done.  I can't do more than I am.  I have nothing else to offer.  I'm not big enough for this.  I need your intervention."  Through the days that followed, that prayer became the mantra in the back of my mind.  

Then, when we least expected it, we started to notice change.  Progress.  Slow at first.  Painfully slow.  But progress.

He started bringing home his personal belongings.  That is HUGE!  He started using his reminder checklist at school that I had created for him.  As a result, he started remembering his homework agenda, papers, and books.  That was SUPER HUGE!  At home, he started writing.  Feverishly some days.  He created his own book full of fables.  He was writing plays and stories that he would act out with his stuffed animals.  Soon he was coming up with witty comments and jokes.  Language seemed to be very interesting to him and was becoming a part of his play and everyday activities.  Right before Christmas break, we had our first clear sign that things were taking an upward swing.  In one week, he brought home an A+ on a math test, an A on a science test, and two Cs on reading tests.  These were significant improvements.  

His speech has not changed.  Some days there is no stuttering, blocking, or hesitation.  None.  He has smooth speech.  Other days, he can't get out a single sentence or phrase without blocking and stuttering.  He has also started developing some secondary behaviors.  Secondary behaviors are behaviors that develop as an instinctive attempt to cope with stuttering and blocking.  He has started grimacing as he attempts to talk.  One a very bad day, he will stomp his foot or kick his leg like he's trying to physically jump the words out of his body.  The most painful secondary behavior to watch is when he uses his hands around his mouth.  Some days it looks like he is physically trying to pull the words or funnel the words out of his mouth.  This area of development has not improved but that is no surprise.  Speech has consistently been his biggest area of delay.  Improvement in this area would be Earth shattering. (Still, a girl can hope.)

As we return to school and work in a few days after the long holiday break, I am going to embrace my new mantra.  God this is too big for me.  I am not strong enough.  Your will be done.  In your time Lord.  I will continue to do all I can for him and his support teams but I also recognize that his needs are greater than me and my abilities.  I will embrace the embers of hope that we have been given.  Hopefully, they can be fanned into a flame that lights the way to greater progress.