Everyone probably admits that their child(ren) is/are a little quirky. I don't know a single person in my life who isn't a little quirky some of the time. As for me, my husband would say I'm quirky most of the time. So why should I expect my two-year old daughter, Lily, to be any different?
About ten months ago, Lily was diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder (also called Sensory Integration Disorder). She was only 15-months at the time. Her pediatrician began getting concerned about her development at her 15-month check-up so he sent us to a pediatric occupational therapist. After the OT spent some time watching Lily interact with the toys and with her, she quickly discovered what was holding her back: Lily was not processing "sensory input" in a normal way (like a typical child) and therefore was too distracted to focus on motor skills that a typical child would do naturally on their own. After some instruction by the OT and a little reading and research, we now know how to give Lily all the sensory input that she requires so that she can focus on normal motor skills. She's doing very well and she has overcome so many obstacles just in the past 10 months.
But one warning that the OT shared with me during one of our sessions was that sensory kids have a tendency to be a bit obsessive compulsive. I'm not sure why this is, but one theory is that sensory kids don't handle change and transitions very well. Therefore, if they can keep their environment the same then they are more comfortable and relaxed and focused. In order to keep their environment the same, they take mental note of every detail around them and then strive to make sure that's the way it always is.
A funny example of this obsessive compulsiveness involves Lily's pacifiers. She still loves her paci's very much. When we leave the house, Lily will immediately grab two or more paci's (never just one) before we walk out the door. But unlike a typical toddler, she keeps tabs on each of these paci's the entire trip. If she grabbed four paci's before getting in the car, then she knows she must have four paci's the entire trip. Just today, we all took a short trip to a nearby town for some shopping. We stopped for lunch on the way. After we piled back in the car, Lily began asking for her paci's. Daddy dug through the diaper bag and found two, but Lily knew there were more, afterall, she originally had four. She said, "Daddy, 'nother one" and Daddy searched some more and found another one. And again Lily said, " 'nother one." Daddy was convinced that there were no more paci's in the bag and told Lily that was all. But of course Lily didn't give up easily. She knew there had to be one more. I asked Daddy to dig in the bag one more time to make sure. And sure enough, there was one more. At that point Lily was satisfied and she relaxed in her car seat for the remainder of the trip.
Some days I laugh at Lily's little quirks like her paci inventory. But some days I have a difficult time. You see, as a stay-at-home mom I'm with Lily all day long. And even though her little toddler brain is as sharp as a tack, my 30-something brain (and now pregnant brain) is not as sharp. Some days I can anticipate when Lily will melt down when her paci inventory is not right or when she has a spot of ketchup on her finger or when the floor seems messy to her. Other days are not so easy. When I'm tired or not as alert, our days can be so very difficult because apparently I'm not as helpful on those days. Lily's little world can be set off balance when a few grains of salt are stuck to her little fingers and Mommy doesn't see or understand the problem. Once resolved, we can both move on. But, the problem must be resolved and sometimes this can take what seems like an eternity when Lily is crying, screaming and throwing a fit. Some days I want to throw my hands up and quit. It's those days that I don't understand (and don't care to understand) why a toddler should care so much about whether she has four paci's or five.
After I crawl into my bed at night and look back at the day, I can laugh at my little girl's funny quirkiness and be amazed at her uniqueness. Most people wouldn't even notice Lily's little quirks so it's like a little gift to me and my husband. It's a part of my child that makes her special that only her daddy and I get to experience. And it's a gift that my husband and I were chosen to receive and to cherish and love.