Mother May I Talk?

We don't talk about The King much. We mention him in passing, and he had one post completely about him, when an older lady called my sweet boy names. But mostly, The King has stayed to the background, his brothers and their troubles taking the forefront.

Today, I find myself wanting to talk about him, so let's.

Look at him. Isn't he the sweetest?

The King turned two in November. He's a bundle of energy, an explorer in a brand-new land. Every day is a new adventure, a new lesson in how the world works. He loves to point out all the new things he finds, and listen to the explanation of what they are. His world is expanding and he is loving every minute of it.

Now comes the point in the post where I'm a sobbing wreck on my couch as I type it. I shouldn't be, because we of all families know this isn't the end of the world. But it never ceases to hurt.

The King is 26 months old, nearly 27 months old. At this point, the months do still make a difference in development. At his age, The King should have 2-3 word sentences, with new words coming each month.

Let me preface this with, I'm his mom. I can understand what his points, his grunts, and his babbling means. Those don't count as words, even if I can tell you what they mean. His speech should be 50-70% intelligible to strangers.

It's not.

Strangers in the store, the doctor, the teachers at his brothers' school, his own family outside of this household...they can't understand most of what he says, with the exception of a few words.

The King can say Mama, Dada, Bruffer, Bubba, BearBear, cup, up, no, more, ow, and maybe ten other words that can be understood.

This ends the list of words The King can say with clarity and understanding.

There's a difference between receptive and expressive language.

There is nothing wrong with his receptive language. This is the part of language that he hears and understands. He knows when he's told no, put that back, etc. He can understand commands and reprimands. He can follow those commands given, and reacts appropriately to reprimands. He is struggling with a few things, but he's still little enough and catching onto other things fast enough that I'm not currently too concerned with his inability to point to his tummy, for example, when asked where it is.

The King has an expressive language delay. Expressive language is exactly what it sounds like: it's the words he can say, his ability to use them correctly, his ability to communicate his wants and needs.

He is very good at pointing. He rocks at bringing you things to show you and has the most adorable inquisitive face in the world. (Shameless Mom brag.)

But he can't tell you what he wants for lunch. He can't tell you he wants a certain book, or toy, or snuggles. He can't even tell you with words that he wants a hug.

His unspoken communication, as noted, is fantastic. He's found ways around what he can't say yet. And he will get there, with time and help. Most children with expressive language delays do. Kyle did, even though he does still struggle (although that is related to his other issues).

I know that.

But that doesn't mean I don't see and hear all these kids his age talking away, and feel my heart break because he can't yet.

He'll get there.

And when that day comes, I'll cry happy tears. 

Now, On: When Anxiety Attacks

Did you know anxiety is the most common mental illness in the US? More than 40 million Americans over age 18 have some kind of anxiety disorder, including GAD, PTSD, OCD, and panic disorder, to name a few. Next time you're in a movie theater, look to your right, your left,  in front of you, and behind you. Chances are, at least one of the people surrounding you suffers from anxiety.

Maybe it's you.

Children also suffer from anxiety. Nearly 32% of American children have an anxiety disorder, according to a survey from the National Institute of Mental Health.

(Side note: The acronym for the National Institute of Mental Health is NIMH Please tell me I'm not the only one who had to do a double take and wonder how Mrs. Brisby was doing!)

Anyone? Just me? ...Drats.          Source

My point here, of course, is that it's very likely you or someone you know suffers from anxiety of some type.

Kyle and Taryn each have a form of anxiety. I have PTSD, which, yes, is listed as an anxiety disorder.

We are also very open in this house and respectful of each other's needs. Or, well...as respectful as young siblings ever get.

That being said, we now turn to the reason for this post: When Anxiety Attacks.

I don't know who made this, but my soul feels it. 

Because of the prevalence of anxiety in our society and in our household, I have taught my children to recognize the signs of an anxiety attack.

A handy reference photo for you, in case it's needed. Source

Quite often, Kyle is able to feel one coming on and can excuse himself or request whatever he needs to feel better. Taryn is getting there, but not quite. And I, a veteran of anxiety attacks, am usually pretty okay. But, I'm not perfect. And sometimes...well, sometimes I have them too. 

Tonight was one of those times. No particular reason - sometimes, anxiety attacks just happen. I've found the longer I go without one, the more likely I am to have one out of nowhere.

I was sitting on my couch, researching the post I had PLANNED to write tonight - looking up photos, statistics, sources, etc - when, out of nowhere, I started to shake. I couldn't breathe. My heart was racing. And, to be honest, I felt like I was in the middle of a menopause cycle. (I'm 27...not quite there yet!)

Kyle was sitting on the floor in front of me. He turned around to ask me something, and immediately seemed to understand that Mommy was in need of help. 

Now, I know what you're thinking: "Why is a 7  year old child helping his mom through a panic attack?" 

No one asked him to. I certainly didn't expect him to. Although I have taught them how to recognize the symptoms and what to do, I did that so they could help themselves - i.e, recognize their own anxiety and get help if it was needed. However, that is the kind of kids I have. When I'm sick, they offer to get water for me, bring me the cough syrup, etc. Pretty sure, if they knew how, they'd drive to the store and buy soup for me too. 

So when Kyle realized I was having an anxiety attack, he decided he knew how to help. Calmly, he got up and got my cell phone from where it was charging on the bookcase. He brought it to me, because he can't unlock it (fingerprint scan, ya know), and told me, "Breathe, Mom. Do the breathing one." 

What does that mean? 

Shameless unpaid app promotion, that's what.

In all seriousness, we discovered an app a few weeks ago called CalmHarm that is intended to help with the urge to self-harm. While we do not feel that urge in this house, I downloaded it anyways to check it out for my mother (a high school teacher working with at-risk teens). On it, they have several options to help you through your urge (or, in our case, anxiety attack), including an option that simply brings a cool-colored circle up on your screen with a 60 second timer, and walks you through deep breathing for 60 seconds. (Longer if you need it - just press it again!)

It's one of the best things we've found in this house for an anxiety attack, too. It brings our concentration to the phone screen, drawing it away from our own thoughts and allowing us to slowly come back out of our brains as our heart slows down and our breathing evens out, allowing our bodies to relax and slip out of flight-or-fight mode. 

When the anxiety had passed, Kyle was once again standing in front of me, this time with a bottle of water and a hug.

Anxiety is a pain. Literally and metaphorically. But it isn't something you should be ashamed of, and it's definitely not something you should keep a secret from your kids, particularly if they themselves have it. Chances are, if you have it, they do too. It seems to run like that. Talk to your kids about anxiety. Teach them to handle their own, and they might pick up on how to help someone else through it, too. 

Do you or your children have anxiety? How do you handle it? Let us know in the comments, and share away :) We'll see you next time, with hopefully less drama!

Or...you know...maybe a bottle or twelve of wine...who knows?