Waterton Trip: Red Shirts

Continuing a family tradition, Rachel brought everyone in the family matching shirts.  James took the group shots, so I am just posting a few random 'Red Shirt' pics that I took.

Thanks again Rachel!

Visit from a behavior specialist

John's self injuring behavior has beeen escalating, so we sought the advice of a behavior specialist.  She came out to visit last Wednesday morning.

For whatever reason, John starts hitting his head precisely at 9:00 am every day.  We timed the visit so the specialist would get there about fifteen minutes beforehand.  Precisely at 9:00 am, he started hitting his head.  He and I went into some wierd performance art where I struggled to restrain him for the next forty-five minutes or so.  Once the specialist left, he calmed down.

I left for the office soon after.  When I arrived, I had numerous co-workers ask me what was wrong.  It was a very rough morning for all of us, and I guess it showed on my face.

Later that day, John had a visit to the dentist where he had his teeth cleaned and examined.  Naturally, he was very cooperative and easy to handle.


Self Injury

Perks of reaching 50 or being over 60 and heading towards 70!

From my friend Tyg

1. Kidnappers are not very interested in you.
2. In a hostage situation you are likely to be released first.
3. No one expects you to run--anywhere..
4. People call at 9 PM and ask,"did I wake you?"
5. People no longer view you as a hypochondriac.
6. There is nothing left to learn the hard way.
7. Things you buy now won't wear out.
8. You can eat supper at 4 PM.
9. You can live without sex but not your glasses.
10. You get into heated arguments about pension plans.
11. You no longer think of speed limits as a challenge.
12. You quit trying to hold your stomach in no matter who walks into the room.
13. You sing along with elevator music.
14. Your eyes won't get much worse.
15. Your investment in health insurance is finally beginning to pay off.
16. Your joints are more accurate meteorologists than the national weather service.
17. Your secrets are safe with your friends because they can't remember them either.
18. Your supply of brain cells is finally down to manageable size.
19. You can't remember who sent you this list.
20. And you notice these are all in Big Print for your convenience.

Church

Made it through another service at church today with my son John.  I thought we were going to have to leave as soon as we went into the sanctuary, John did everything he could to start hitting his head.  I was able to restrain him with one hand and cover his mouth to mute his screams with the other.  And I have the scratch marks to prove it.  He drew blood this time.

Once the service started though, John calmed down and I recalled the reason I put myself through this every week.  Though I don't get as much from the service as I probably would if I didn't have to take care of John, I get enough.

Some random thoughts.

• I don't recall anyone in my congregation ever criticizing me because I couldn't control John. 
• When I have had to take John out of the service, I have been told that I need to take him back in because he wasn't bothering anyone.
• I have never been shushed in the hallways.  That one is a big one for me, I still have nightmares from my previous congregation.
• I have had people come up to me and offered encouragement and hugs.
• For whatever reason, John is at his best during the sermon, which I am grateful for, it allows me a better chance to listen and comprehend.  
• I am amazed that the same people will sit in front of us week after week.  We try to sit out of the way so as not to disturb others.  
• John gave our pastor a hug on our way out of church today, which was nice and more than a little surprising.

In her sermon, our pastor used a desert island joke.  I found a variation of it and I am re-blogging it below.  I am glad that I found an accepting church for both me and for John.

A man is rescued after many years on a desert island. As he stands on the deck of the rescuing vessel, the captain says to him, "I thought you were stranded alone. How come I can see three huts on the beach?"

     "Well," replies the castaway, "that one there is my house and that one there is where I go to church."

     "And the third one?" asks the skipper.

     "Oh, that's the church I used to go to."

The Good Samaritan

In her sermon today spoke about the parable of the Good Samaritan.   One of the questions of course is why did the Samaritan stop when the regular clergy did not.  The other question I ask myself of course is, would I have stopped?

In the sermon,  our pastor referenced a study at the Seminary at Princeton university where students were tested to see if they would stop to offer help to someone who appeared to need help.

They varied the amount of urgency they told the subjects before sending them to the other building, and the task they would do when they got there. One task was to prepare a talk about seminary jobs, and the other about the story of the Good Samaritan. In one condition they told the subject they were late for the next task, in the other they said they had a few minutes but they should head on over anyway.

It would seem like the students who were thinking about the story of the Good Samaritan would of course be more likely to stop and help.  The results were pretty surprising.

 Check out Darley, J. M., and Batson, C.D., "From Jerusalem to Jericho": A study of Situational and Dispositional Variables in Helping Behavior". JPSP, 1973, 27, 100-108 for the details.

Why do good things happen to bad people

That was the title of today's sermon at church.

One of the things that I had never thought about is that there are people who think that I am bad, and they are probably surprised when good things happen to me.  It got me to thinking what makes a person bad.  In no particular order, I came up the following, I am sure I could add many more entries. 

• religion
• political party
•  race
•  creed 
• color
• socioeconomic status
• sexual orientation 
• gender
• appearance
• intelligence

Head Banging

Not mine, my son John's. I noticed something pretty darn interesting a few weeks ago. For whatever reason (and I am totally open to suggestions), John has decided that he needs to hit his head at precisely 9 a.m. and 1 p.m.

For example, we were at IHOP this morning and a few moments before 9, I changed seats at the booth so I could sit right next to him. Right on schedule, he had lifted his hands to hit his head (and you have no idea how unnerving this can be to the uninitiated), but I was able to grab them in time.  At 9:01, I moved back to my side of the booth and we finished breakfast without any further incident.

My own theory? Too much Mary Poppins. There is a scene in the movie where a neighbor sets off his cannon at a given time and the entire household is involved in making sure that the shock from the cannon does not damage any of the household breakables.

Agony

Rachel is blogging about her Christmas visit and noted:

My sister-in-law Sarah Jane had an astounding realization: every time my dad leaves the house, my brother John plays the song "Agony" from Into the Woods. Every time. Apparently he even played it in the car today.

I suppose that is what I get for letting John listen to the soundtracks of Broadway musicals.  It kind of reminds of me of something I heard in meetings,  "alcoholics don't make friends, they take hostages."