If you have ever told your child, "Five more minutes until bath time," only to have them explode in a meltdown five minutes later like they never heard you, you aren't alone. In our house, transitions used to feel like trying to stop a freight train with a piece of dental floss. It didn't matter if I gave a warning, or if I was being "gentle," or if I promised a treat afterward. The moment the current activity ended, it was like the world was ending.
If there is one place that feels like the ultimate test for our kids, it is the waiting room. Whether it is at the dentist, the pediatrician, or even just waiting for a table at a restaurant, these spaces are designed for adults. They are often quiet, boring, and full of strange smells. For a kid with ADHD, sitting still for ten minutes feels like sitting still for ten hours. For a kid with anxiety or autism, the ticking clock and the humming fluorescent lights can feel like a slow-motion nightmare.
If there is one thing that used to strike absolute fear into my heart, it was the phrase "You need a haircut." For a typical kid, a trip to the barber is a rite of passage. For my son, it was like asking him to walk into a den of lions while someone blew a whistle in his ear.
If I had a nickel for every time I shouted, "It’s right in front of you!" only to have my child look at me like I was speaking a foreign language, I’d be a very rich woman. We have all been there. You are running late for school, the backpack is packed, the car is running, and your child is standing in the middle of the room looking like they have completely forgotten how to be a human being because they can’t find their left shoe.
If someone asked you today, "Who are you?", what would your answer be? Most of us would start with "I’m a mom" or "I’m a dad." We might follow it up with our job title or maybe "I’m an autism advocate." But when was the last time you answered that question by talking about something you love just for yourself?
If you have ever walked into a school conference room and seen six or seven people sitting around a long table waiting for you, you know that "sinking" feeling in your stomach. There is the teacher, the principal, the speech person, the school psychologist, and maybe a few people you have never even met before. They all have folders full of papers, and they are all looking at you.
If your house is anything like mine, there are moments when everything just feels like it is spinning out of control. Maybe the homework was too hard, or the park was too loud, or the transition from school to home just didn't go well. Your child is "vibrating" with nervous energy, and you can tell a meltdown is right around the corner.