He Slapped Me

Photo By: J.Belluch

He slapped me.

It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. But it was so long ago, years in fact. I must have wigged out on him because he abruptly stopped doing it and never hit us again…until recently. It seems Alex is starting to go into rages, maybe mini rages since I can’t account for any bruising from him yet. But they’re starting none-the-less. And what brings them on? Transitions. Any transition. Transitions have always been difficult, but they have moved to a higher degree of difficulty now.

He’s on break from school (I despise school breaks). I knew he would be going out of his mind with the need for sensory balance. Since we don’t have any swings as of yet, I decided that regardless of the temperature, regardless of Ben’s need for a nap, everyone was getting bundled up and going outside for a walk. Big motor movements are good for Alex’s sensory diet (along with swings and gum). A neighbor friend that he’s been asking for came with us. It was nice weather; we went on our usual route stopping to watch the river of cars pass by our watching perch. We continued on home to play outside and bask in the warmth of the sunlight… all was well. Then another transition.

His friend needed to go home for lunch and rest; we needed to do the same. Regardless of the warning, the countdown, all efforts for a smooth transition, this ended with 30 minutes of wailing at the top of his lungs, eyes swollen, fists banging on my car, fingers pulling at the antenna on my car in the garage. He refused to come in. He refused to stop crying, banging, fitting. I usually give him sufficient time to go through his tantrum, calm down and rejoin us, but this time, 30 minutes was getting long and disruptive to everyone else in the house who were trying to peacefully eat their lunch. I gently forced him in.

After a minute’s breath, he began again by throwing his head and himself back and wailing at the top of his lungs. He was given choices, eat lunch or go upstairs for a break in his room. Eyes swollen red with streams of tears coming down, he looked at me and said, “Ding”, hitting me. Yes, we even get sound effects with it. He did this over and over almost with pleading in his eyes to just get it over with and take him to his room. Though this is probably what he wants, he never does it willingly. I have to mentally warn my back that we’re getting ready to pick up 50+ pounds of floundering, flailing little boy, big boy and carry him up the stairs – and I did.

Half way up, he slapped me. In the face. Stinging my cheek with his “good” hand. He looked surprised but not at all sorry. Maybe a little. Maybe some of both.

So, time passed, lunch was eaten, even by him. He calmed down after tearing apart his room and considering kicking me while I took off his braces. He is now sleeping.

I’m unnervingly calm.

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