A few days ago, I went to visit Ian as usual. This time his caregiver told him I was on my way over, and when I arrived, I could see through his window in his room while I parked my car. It was quite dark when I arrived, so he really could not see who drove up, but I saw him get up from his bed and look out his window to see if it was him mama who had finally arrived. It's hard to express my feelings watching my son look eagerly out his window to see if it was his mother who was getting out of the car. I waved energetically at him, and walked on in to his apartment. It's not always easy to know how much Ian enjoys having me visit, but this showed me that even if he does not express emotion like a "normal" person does, he still is attached, and still wants to have his loved ones come and visit him.
He seemed quite happy to see me, and when Ian is happy, he is ALL the way happy! As I readied him for his bath, he started giggling, and swaying side to side in a dance-like movement. Then he pressed his face into my face which is his usual way to show affection. He is not aware of how strong he is, and I started losing my balance as he continued to press his nose to my nose. I finally said "I love you too, but try to be gentle with Mommy!" He loves his baths, and we do a lot of communicating and singing and playing during this time.
After his bath, he was ready for his dinner. He ate a HUGE dinner! The boy can EAT!! He ate six pieces of pizza in as many minutes, After the last piece, his face changed, and he began to look a bit concerned (and a bit green.) I think what happened was the old "his eyes were bigger than his stomach" syndrome. He went to lay down on the couch with his blanket over him, and got very teary and weepy. I asked if his tummy hurt--no response--and then I asked if his head hurt, and he seemed to nod his head. Unfortunately, it seems that Ian has inherited my proclivity toward severe headaches (it runs through both sides of the family.) Because he is non-verbal, it is always a guessing game figuring out what could be wrong with him. It can lead to violent outbursts on his part due to both pain and frustration with communication. We gave him an ibuprofen, and I left the staff with the instruction to give him something stronger if he continued to show pain behaviors.
This is really an average night at Ian's apartment. Of course, I also have a relationship with his roommate, so I spend time greeting Ron and giving him hugs and attention. Once my son took my hand and led me away from Ron--we all decided that he wanted my undivided attention, and was a little jealous of my paying attention to his roomie.
All this to show how Ian can go through a whole kaleidoscope of emotions in a very short time. He can be happy and dancing and listening to his music toys, and a second later he is overstimulated and aggressive and loud, and then switch suddenly to tears, and then back to happy. I would give a fortune to know what goes through that boy's head as he shuffles through all these feelings and reactions! I know that he experiences the world quite differently than "normals" do, and that he feels things much more intensely. What is that like? No wonder he likes to lie down with his blanket wrapped around him in a quiet room---he needs to recover from "life!"
Anyway--this is not a very exciting entry---but it describes a typical visit on a winter day: Videos, baths, snacks, hugs, one-way chatting, and sitting quietly with him while he does his Ian thing. Just observing Ian being Ian is always a lesson, always fascinating, and often entertaining.
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