Control Freak... or all I got for Christmas is some OCD (December 2010)
My son, Haydn is a control freak.
He has a diagnosis of Asperger Syndrome, and of course, OCD is riding shotgun with his diagnosis.
OCD is a nice medical, technical, smarty-pants term... But I am not a medical, technical, smarty pants kind of Dad.
So, as I said before...
My son, Haydn is a control freak.
During dinner, I decide to offer Haydn a biscuit. The following conversation ensues:
"The biscuit is not for the boy!"
"That's fine Haydn."
"I'm not going to eat bis..."
"I don't know what that means Haydn."
"This is not the biscuit room!!" (That's one way of putting it...)
"That's fine Haydn. But, I want you to keep the biscuit on your plate. You don't have to eat it, but it stays on your plate."
A ten to fifteen minute stand-off follows until the innate need to feed diffuses the argument and he eats his dinner with the biscuit riding side-saddle on his plate. (Can't make this stuff up)
Haydn - 1... OCD - 0
Haydn tries to have a certain amount of control over as many elements of his life as he can. The "Biscuit Incident" is a perfect example. He doesn't want to eat the biscuit because it isn't pasta or an ice pop (like any other five year-old). Then he uses his Haydn-spective and decides that since the biscuit is something he won't eat, so there is no reason for it to be on the plate.
But it is not only the layout of a dinner plate that Haydn feels he must control. He tries to control topics of conversation. His pragmatic language skills are not great, so by keeping you on a topic of his choosing will eliminate the unpredictable and make things easier for him. In fact, he can take any conversation, and within one or two exchanges bring it to the topic of his choosing... usually fans. He dressed himself in nothing but gray or black for over a month without our noticing. (Hey, at least he was dressing himself). He likes to keep the balance of random objects (both lamps on or off if two are in a room, or both visors up or down in the car...). He tries to travel the same the path when he walks through a park, zoo, or mall. He wants the order of the play list when he is listening to his music to stay the same. He tries to maintain a certain predictability to his life which seems to calm him. It is my thought that eliminating the unpredictable elements in his life makes it easier for him to deal with the intense sensory stimulation and social challenges he must deal with. Unfortunately for him, his Daddy-o does not let him have any of these things, so Mr. Haydn needs to find other ways to cope. Which leads to some difficult situations from time to time.
When he gets himself worked up over something like this it, can be a bit of a trick to get him off topic and out of the mental loop he settles into. Since we can't just beat him with a stick (joke...) we need to use calm, repetitive statements, always keeping an even keel and under no circumstances should we yell. It just hurts his ears. (Having released the Kraken on him a few too many times in the early days, I can tell you it just makes him cry and draws him into his own head, and leaves me feeling like a total jerk)
Often we just remove him from the scene of the crime and let him reset himself (that's the big one - more often than not, he can do it himself if we can get him into a quiet corner, or a different room).
Everywhere we go, I try to be conscious of the doors we go in, the paths we take when we walk around, even the route we take in the car. I mix things up as much as possible, avoiding any patterns or schedules whenever I can. He is getting pretty good at handling the change-ups and mix-ups I throw at him, (He doesn't really have a choice. The rule is - deal with it, or we go home) he has really learned to adapt on the fly and we have been able to avoid any problematic situations.
But, during the weeks leading up to Christmas...
Daddy-o screws up.
Haydn and I spend a few nights during the weeks preceding Christmas running to the mall and doing some shopping. We park in the garage, run into the mall, grab a few things and leave. During a two week stretch we probably spend two or three nights a week getting the last minute stuff done. Five, maybe six trips. I do not pay attention to the routine, do not mix things up, and every time we enter, Haydn hits the handicap button to open the door (and loves it). Two days after Christmas, Haydn, Mommy and I go to the mall to exchange a gift. I park in the same spot, we enter the same door, and...
The button doesn't work.
Haydn pretty much loses his mind over this. He starts to cry, yelling at the two of us;
"We need to push the button."
"I have to use my button hand."
He throws himself on the floor, against the wall, and will not move. He keeps yelling and crying and really makes a good show of it, when Mommy steps in and:
"Haydn, do you have a boo boo?"
"No I do not, Mommy."
"Haydn, are you hurt from the button not working."
"No I am not Mommy."
"If you don't have a boo-boo, and are not hurt, then why are you crying?"
"I want to use the button door."
"Well, the button is broken, but we are inside the mall now. Do you want to stay and have fun, or should we go home because the button is broken?"
"I want to stay."
Mommy saves the day, and Haydn learns a little lesson.
And the button is no longer an issue.
This particular incident is an important reminder to Mommy and me, that for the time being, we must always keep an eye on Haydn's behaviors. It did not take long for the button hunger to sink it's teeth into him. He settles so quickly and easily into routines that if left to his own devices he will embrace them and become dependent. From the outside looking in it probably looks like over-parenting and micro-managing, but it is critical to put an end to potentially harmful behavior before it becomes ingrained in his thought process.
"The Incident of the Broken Handicap Access Button," (sounds like a bad Hardy Boys title) reminds us that although we have had many successes, and we have had a lot of laughs, and our little man Haydn is doing extremely well, we can not get lazy, because it is so easy to stumble and veer off track. Everything we do now, is to help him five, ten, twenty years down the road.
All important things to consider. However, there is one thing, as a result of this experience, that haunts me at night and irritates me to no end.
We live in the 21st century. Shouldn't ALL doors open and close automatically? Can we please, just lose the damn buttons?
