Happy Holidays With (Sensory) Kids
I originally started writing this as a post for how to deal with kids with sensory issues during the holiday season.
But then I realized, a lot of these could apply to all children.
I think kids have more pressure to perform during the month of December, than they do all year.
And by perform, I mean, play the perfect, well behaved, child. Which we all know, for the other 11 months of the year, is the furthest thing from the truth.
So take a moment to realize that the planet is not going to self destruct if…
- Kids leave the table before the meal is finished.
Who made up the rule that kid have to sit for the whole holiday meal? Seriously? Who? Your great-great-grandmother’s third-cousin-twice-removed? What is going to happen if the kids leave the table before the meal is done? Relax. It really isn’t the end of the world if kids don’t eat every last morsel on their plate. And if your house is anything like ours, they’ve probably been snacking on goodies and treats all day and really aren’t that hungry anyways. So, let them go. Let them get up from the table once they’re bored and send them off to play. You know what will happen? You’ll have a nice, quiet dinner with adult conversation, and without wanting to pull your hair out while they fidget and whine. - Your kid doesn’t want to eat holiday dinner at all.
It’s new food. Different from what they’re used to. That can be a huge deal for some kids. Do yourself a favor and bring along some of their favorite foods and snacks, so if they don’t want to eat the fancy turkey with stuffing and cranberry sauce, then can at least have something. - They open one (or two…or three…) presents before Christmas Day.
This is another of those ‘who made that rule’ questions I have. I wrote about this last year, and we’ve implemented the same thing this year. Christmas Day is out, the 12 Days of Christmas is in. Throwing a ton of presents and wrapping paper and lights and noise and family and the list goes on at a kid and expecting it not to be overwhelming? Is simply not realistic. So instead, Vista opens her presents from friends when they are received, and her presents from us in the days leading up to Christmas. Christmas day is reserved for stocking and Santa presents. That is plenty. The bonus of doing it this way, is it also gives her time to open and enjoy each present. - There is no Santa picture.
Malls are noisy, loud places during the holidays. The lights, the music, the people. Do you leave the mall after a Christmas shopping trip feeling relaxed and renewed? No, of course not. It’s hella stressful for adults. So for kids? Is it any wonder that they’re a complete mess by the time it’s their turn to see Santa? And THEN we expect them to smile and hug a complete stranger in a red velvet suit. Uhhh…yeaahhh… about that.If a Santa picture is really that important, take the money you’d normally spend on a Santa pic, pool it with some friends and rent a Santa suit for someone to dress up in. Then take the pictures at home. Sure you won’t have the sleigh backdrop, but you might actually have a smiling kid in the picture instead.
- They don’t wear that fancy $200 Christmas outfit you bought them. And the same goes for the reindeer sweater.
Lets face it. Fancy dress up clothes are not conducive to being comfortable. And they’re really not meant for playing in, either. If it’s really that important that everyone see them in that ‘ZOMG! It’ll look SO CUTE on her’ outfit, then have them wear it to the party, but bring some comfortable clothes they can change into. The other option is to find a happy medium. V’s wearing velour pants (http://bit.ly/velourpants <-not any sort of affiliate link, just sharing a pair of comfy pants) with a sparkly top. Cute, no? Both are comfortable, but still dressy.
- Your kid doesn’t want to hug your aunt’s brother’s cousin’s daughter.
Touching can be a big thing for sensory kids. And a lot of people (never mind just kids) don’t like strange people in their personal space. Instead of hugs, try a handshake or the knuckle bump (or as V likes to call it ‘punch it out’). Just be ready to throw yourself in front of Aunt Erma before she gets her sticky paws around your kid.I know for V, the other part of being around people, is that smell is a HUGE thing. So someone wearing strong perfume? Forget it. She won’t go near them. The same goes for someone she knows changing their smell. My BFF came over for coffee once and wore a different perfume than normal. V wouldn’t go near her because she didn’t smell ‘right’.
Another thing you can do is show kids pictures of the people they will be meeting, ahead of time. This lets them prepare, and makes that uncle he sees once a year a little less of a stranger.
- They just want to play by themselves.
New people, lots of noise, people wanting to pat them… Nightmare waiting to happen for a sensory kid. We’ve learned to bring an iPad, or DVD player, and a set of headphones with us when we go places. If it’s still to much for V, we designate a ‘quiet room’. Somewhere she can go and sit by herself, away from the hustle and bustle, until she’s feeling ready to rejoin us. When she disappears, we just politely explain that it’s a bit much for her, and she needs to wind down a bit.
The biggest thing is to follow their lead and pick your battles. Nothing’s worse than spending your holiday arguing with your kid. And if it means deviating from the norm so everyone ends up enjoying themselves a lot more? Then do it.
Your sanity will thank you.
Prized Possessions
I only own a few things I would consider my prized possessions.
The ring my mom gave me when I turned sweet sixteen.
My cameo pin left to me by my grandmother.
The grandfather clock my grandad built himself.
My Dyson vacuum.
…
What?
Your vacuum isn’t one of your prized possessions?
Well then you probably don’t own beige carpets.
And four animals.
Three of which are long-haired.
And three of which are various shades of black.
So, my vacuum and I? We have a close and intimate relationship.
Not that intimate.
Pervs.
Anyway…
Imagine my joy upon returning home Wednesday night to find out that Bil, trying to help out by vacuuming while I was in the city with Vista, had wrecked my Dyson.
Understand that I love my Dyson almost as much as my husband. And the fact he wrecked it, right before Christmas? Well it means I might love my Dyson more than my husband, now.
I had learned once before, when my Dyson started making an awful grinding sound, that they have awesome support people that you can call that will walk you through fixing your vacuum. So, this afternoon I called again. After 45minutes on the phone with support, though, it was decided I couldn’t fix my Dyson. *sob*
The nice lady I was talking to on the phone told me that I could send it in for repair.
I did a mental calculation in my head.
Number of days left til Christmas / Number of paycheques in December – Number of Christmas presents left to buy… carry the one… and that equals…
Me: “*big sigh* Any idea on how much is it going to cost to fix?”
Nice Dyson Lady: “Oh, your Dyson is still under warranty, so it won’t cost you anything.”
Me: “HOLY FUCK! I’ve owned this thing for over two years. You mean vacuums have warranties?!? And it’s still good? Like you’re really going to fix it for free?”
Nice Dyson Lady: “…ummm…yes? We’ll send you a box so you can ship it back to us and we’ll fix it. You’ll have it back within 7 – 10 days”
If I could have reached through the phone and kissed her, I would have. Like seriously full on mouth slip her some tongue kissed her. I really thought I was looking at a huge purchase of a new Dyson (which really would have been OK, considering it’s already lasted 5 times longer than any other vacuum we’ve ever owned). But nope. They’re going to fix it for me. *cue choirs of angels singing*
So prized possession? Yeah, my Dyson definitely ranks right up there.
Disclaimer: This post isn’t sponsored or paid for. It’s just me giving credit for good customer service. And perhaps wondering why more companies aren’t like this.
Stop Trying To Sell Me Your Crap When I’m On Hold, Dammit
Last night after dinner we were hanging out having some lazy family time when crisis hit.
Our internet and cable went out.
I know, right! I mean, I can live without the TV. But internet? Gah!
It was like being plunged into intense detox with no warning. The situation was dire.
(I know…total first world problem, but it’s my blog and I’ll whine if I want to).
So I made the terrible mistake of calling the cable company.
As I sat on hold and waited, and waited, and waited some more, I noticed a pattern to the on-hold messages (because I’m a total loser and live for finding a pattern to life).
So, like any good geek, I pulled up Excel and started charting the messages and how often I was hearing them.
5:30:
“Thank you for continuing to hold. We think you’re super duper awesome (or just really stupid) for sitting on hold forever while we’re all gossiping around the water cooler. We’ll be back soon. Mmmmkai? Bai!”
5:30:
“Did you know our uber amazing company is doing a food bank drive, to, like, try and pretend we actually care about the community instead of just money? You should use your money to buy food, donate it to the food bank, and then we’ll take credit for it. Mmmmkai? Bai!”
5:31:
“Thank you for continuing to hold. We still think you’re super duper awesome and eventually we’ll decide to actually answer the phone. Mmmmkai? Bai!”
5:32:
“Did you know we have this OMGBBQ website!! AND? You can look at your bill online. I know! Like no other company in the world lets you give us your money right through our website, except us. You should totally go do that right now and stop calling us. Mmmmmkai? Bai!”
5:33:
“Oh, you’re still holding? Yeah…well… uh… so are lots of other people, so just keep waiting until the one person we have answering phones for an area of 3million people decides to get to you. Mmmmkai? Bai!”
5:34:
“Do you want to save money? Well just buy MORE of our products, that cost about $40, and we’ll give you like a whole $2 a month in savings. And if you save that $2, in a couple of months you’ll have enough for a whole Starbuck’s latte! Mmmmkai? Bai!”
5:34:
“Just checking to make sure you’re still silly enough to be listening to these messages. Please continue holding for the next available….bwahahahaha… yeah, right. Like anyone’s actually going to answer your call. Mmmmkai? Bai!”
5:35:
“OMG! You should totally get internet from our company. We totally have stuff that no other internet providers have. Like internet support. I know! OMGBBQ! So like, use the internet you don’t have to go to our website and sign up. Mmmmkai? Bai!”
5:36:
“Thanks for still holding you silly git. Let me give it to you straight. Dude… you should really just hang up. Cause we’re like busy with important stuff. Like picking our toes. Mmmmmkai? Bai!”
And the messages repeated in this order for the hour I was on hold.
OK, so I *might* have paraphrased the messages a tiny bit, but the gist was the same, and those are the actual timing of the messages.
So, lets break that down.
- That was a message every minute or less.
- One message was about donating to the food bank.
- Half were ‘gee thanks for sticking around on hold forever and ever amen’.
- The rest? Were trying to sell me shit and telling me to visit their website. Which? I could get to because I was calling because MY FUCKING INTERNET WAS DOWN.
UGH.
Not once, in any of the messages, was a “Oh hey… service is out in the following areas, so if that’s where you’re calling from, yeah we know.”
And that? Is stupid. I don’t want to sit on hold so you can try and sell me more of your product that isn’t working for me in the first place.
Turns out internet and cable was out for my entire town. And? It took them 14 hours to fix it. Yeah, I got up this morning and it was still down. SUPER!
So, to sumarize, Shaw Communications sucks big hairy donkey balls.
Suggestions for satellite TV? Is it worth it to switch?
Telemarketers of Twitter
I love being on Twitter. It’s a huge community of friends who I can rely on to alternately pick me up or kick me in the ass, when ever I need it.
But even the best things have their downside.
With Twitter it’s the auto-DM’s and spam. And to be clear, I consider auto-DM’s to be spam.
Sending someone you’ve just started following an auto-DM is like walking up to a complete stranger in the mall, handing them your business card without saying a word, and walking away.
Do you really think that person is going to even look at that business card?
Or would it go straight into the trash, along with their opinion of you?
If you want to sell to me, interact with me. Make me care about what you have to offer.
Because, lets face it. Any auto-DM, no matter how innocuous it may be, is trying to promote your product, store, blog, or person, to someone you have no prior relationship with.
People who auto-DM are the telemarketers of the Twitter world.
And I’m definitely not buying whatever it is you’re selling.
A Rose By Any Other Name
My brain wanders to weird places when I’m awake at 3am. (Why, hello, insomnia).
It’s when I do some of my best thinking and come up with cool ideas, though. That time when you’re half awake, half asleep, and you’re not worrying or focused on anything in particular. All sorts of strange stuff pops into my head. Like…
Have you ever wondered what you would have named your kid if you didn’t give them the name you did?
Vista was always Vista for us. There never was another name.
But sometimes I wonder what she would have been if we hadn’t come up with that name.
Vienna?
Virgina?
(yes, I seem to have a small obsession with V names. Don’t judge).
Or what about people you meet who don’t seem to fit their names? Who do you think they should be?
My nephew, Sheldon, is like that, for me. The name just seems to big for him. And yet I can’t find a way to shorten it. Shel? Nah. Don? Definitely not.
Maybe I’ll just start calling him Bob…
Know It
I own what I say.
I accept sometimes that means eating crow. So be it. I still own it. I’ll apologize if I feel I was wrong. I’ll clarify things if the situation warrants it.
But please don’t assume you know what I said when you hear it from a third, forth, or fifth party.
If you have an issue with something you *think* I said, then grow a pair and ask me. If I said it, I’ll own it. If you need an explanation, I’m usually more than willing to explain the why’s behind it.
And please don’t assume you know exactly how I think based on one supposed 140 characters exchange. Sometimes words are just words. There’s not some profound underlying meaning to them.
The fact is, I’m not that fucking deep.
I have neither the time, inclination, or energy to bother to be.
It’s not that I’m shallow. It’s not that I’m heartless. It’s not that I’m intentionally cruel or evil.
I say what I mean.
I mean what I say.
I’m a pretty simple person.
And if you think I’m a complete bitch online? You should meet me in person.
“Never utter these words: ‘I do not know this, therefore it is false.’
One must study to know; know to understand; understand to judge.”
~ Apothegm of Narada
Parenting Expert
It’s been my experience that many people who consider themselves ‘parenting experts’ are those who have managed to raise one or or more perfectly normal little children.
It’s rare to hear a parent of a special needs child refer to themselves as an expert in anything.
We quickly learn that what works for ‘most kids’, rarely, if ever, works for ours.
And so we’re left slogging through trying to come up with something, anything that will work.
Because what works today, probably isn’t going to work tomorrow, or an hour from now.
I can’t even begin to communicate the level of frustration that brings.
And yet for the solutions we do find that we manage to make work we are look down on and called out by parenting experts and even other parents.
YES MY CHILD WEARS A BACKPACK LEASH SOMETIMES WHEN WE GO OUT.
According to one of the parenting experts on twitter, this means I’m treating my child like an animal.
*insert tears of frustration here*
Never mind the fact that Vista actually LIKES to wear her backpack. She often brings it to me and asks to wear it around the house.
Never mind the fact it’s an easy, no fight, solution to walking around busy places with lots of people.
It was suggested I use a ring-sling as a harness. That would be great for 5, 10, maybe even 15 minutes. But for a 1 or 2 hour walk with a 45lb Amazon 3yr old? With a child who often can’t bare to hold hands because of the feel of it? A child to whom a gentle guiding hand could cause a complete meltdown because I touched her? A child who will wonder off and not even consider where mom and dad are? A child who would walk off with a stranger without a second thought? Uhhh….yeah….
But I’m treating her like an animal because I put her backpack leash on her.
Well parenting experts, you come spend a day with me.
You go through the 2 – 3 hour battle of the meds in the morning. These meds are not optional. She must have them. Not taking them could result in seizures that could kill her.
You take a child with sensory issues, epilepsy, and other brain issues, for a lovely walk in a crowded place with just a ring sling. Don’t forget the behind-the-head headphones to help her block out the sounds. And a package of wipes just in case she accidentally touches something and starts screaming about her fingers being dirty.
Then come home and start battle #2 of the meds.
Now it’s time to fix dinner. Don’t forget the bowl you serve it in cannot be warm or it’s considered hot and no food will be eaten.
Oh, no, you don’t get to eat dinner too. No, this is where you sit and help the child with their spoon or fork, because at 3 years old they still aren’t able to manage it.
Now it’s time for battle #3 of the meds.
Tired yet?
Oh well, you still have to give the kid a bath and put her to bed. Don’t forget that no water can get anywhere near the face or it’ll be an epic meltdown. Oh, and brushing her teeth will require a specific tooth brush (her choice, it changes daily. But don’t use the wrong one or…yeah, epic melt down). Oh, and if you pick the wrong toothpaste? Then you’ve just extended bedtime by half an hour while you calm her down.
Yeah, good luck with that.
If you make it through the day without ending up in tears yourself, then maybe I’ll consider your advice.
But only maybe.
I’ll Never Fly With American Airlines Again
Sunday night, Nic, Dre, and I were sitting downstairs having a few drinks at hotel bar while we caught up on life, kids, and the like.
We asked our waiter, Patrick, for another round and he brought out Nic and Dre’s glasses of wine. He apologized to Nic; they had run out of the Pinot Grigio she had been drinking so he substituted a different one for her.
She took a sip. “This is a chardonnay.”
Patrick looked confused. “No, it’s a pinot grigio.”
Nic took another sip. “Nope. Definitely a Chardonnay.” She handed the glass to Dre for her opinion. “Definitely a Chardonnay” agreed Dre.
He paused. “I’ll be right back,” Patrick said, disappearing behind the bar.
A minute later he came back with another glass and a bottle of wine. “You were absolutely right. It was a chardonnay. I am SO sorry for the mistake.”
We all had a great laugh and high-fived Nic on her stellar wine tasting abilities.
Patrick poured her a fresh glass out of the bottle of pinot grigio. There was about a quarter bottle left. He put it on the table. “I’ll just leave that there for you,” he said with a smile.
This was a simple mix up. Not a big deal in any way. But the recovery from the mistake? Amazing. Two days and and a few drinks later, I still remember our waiter’s name. We even tweeted the Hilton telling them that Patrick needed a raise (and he really does). That quarter bottle of wine probably cost them $5. Good publicity? Priceless.
This is the area where a lot of companies in the customer service industry fall flat.
Issues happen. They do. Nothing ever runs smoothly all the time.
But it’s how you recover that will make or break your reputation these days of social media.
Take for example my flight to get home from NYC on American Airlines.
All I wanted all day was just to get home so I could cuddle Vista, and smother her in kisses, and tell her how much I missed her. I’d been away from her for a whole week. That’s about 6 days too long for me.
It was going to be a late night (my flight wasn’t due to arrive until after 9pm), but Bil and Vista were going to make the drive into the city to pick me up. I couldn’t wait to see her. I breezed through my flight from Newark to Dallas. And then the day started going downhill.
First one gate change. Then another… …and another… The depart time on the flight kept getting later. 6pm…. 6:40, 7:00, 7:10, 7:50, and on and on.
With each time bump I got more and more upset.
I. Just. Wanted. To. Go. Home.
I was tired. I missed my daughter. I missed my husband.
By the time the depart hit 8:30pm, I did the math. By the time the plane lands + get my luggage + make it through customs, carry the one…. and…. it was going to be to late to bring Vista into town to pick me up. And no way I could afford the hour and a half cab ride to our town, IF I could even find a cab to take me. I was heartbroken. I sat in the airport wiping away tears of frustration.
I. Just. Wanted. To. Go. Home.
Resigned, I called my parents, and asked if I could stay at their house in the city until Bil could get in to pick me up in the morning.
Another gate change.
A change in terminals.
Another delay.
The flight got later and later.
And through all this there was no communication around WHY our flight was so delayed.
Finally at 9pm, we got on a plane. And sat there. We all looked around the plane. We’re we EVER going to get home?
The plane did, eventually, take off. By the time we got in, it was almost midnight. I had left the hotel at 9:30am.
And what did American Airlines do to make up the huge delay and hours of treking around the Dallas airport?
Nothing.
Not One Thing.
Not the offer of a complementary beverage. Not even a cookie.
Not only that, but they didn’t even bring enough customs declaration forms on board. Not even enough for half the plane.
Don’t you think during the HOURS of delays they might have been able to get that one thing together?? Yeah, you would think. But no.
As we say on twitter. #EPICFAIL
How much does a cookie cost? Weigh that against all the tweets that went around with their ID in it complaining about the flight delays, lack of explanations, and lack of recovery.
Service companies take note. Social media rules these days. Put your best foot forward and when things do go sideways make sure you have a recovery plan in place.
I’m Not.
I see this all the time now.
“I’m PR friendly!”
Perky, isn’t it?
I go and look at the sites of the people who claim this loud and proud on their Twitter profiles, trying to figure out what makes someone ‘friendly’. As opposed to … unfriendly?
Does it mean you can’t ever swear on your blog?
Well, fine. But can you guarantee me that these people never swear in their every day lives? Never let the occasional F-bomb slip after dropping their grandmother’s precious china serving dish on the kitchen floor? Because if you agree to represent a brand, does it start and end at your blog?
Does it mean you can’t have any ‘questionable’ ads on your site?
I’m definitely guilty of that *cough* Toy with Me and Nipple Charms *cough*. I choose to run these ads because I like the ladies behind them. And I believe in the message of being sex positive. After all, most of us got to be moms by having sex, didn’t we? Are we supposed to deny our sexuality because we’re now moms? And yet some brands believe you can’t be both. A mom and a sexual being. How… interesting.
Does it mean you can’t write about controversial or hot-button topics?
Isn’t that part of what a blog is about? Our little space of the world to tell it like we see it. To be able to state our views loud and proud. To prompt discussion. And air our feelings. Do we really have to abandon that to become PR friendly?
It seems likes a lot of major brands want us to conform to the image of the perfect 1950′s housewife.
But that’s not my reality. That’s not who I am.
I am not a perfect mother. I am not a perfect wife. I am not a perfect blogger. I am not a perfect anything.
And in my imperfections I find beauty and the opportunity to learn and grow.
So, if being PR friendly means I have to create some false persona and project a sweet happy image to the world, then I think I’ll stay over here being unfriendly and true to who I am, instead.
Find Me
