Xavier and the Deadly Oatmeal

 

Xavier, my almost 9 year old grandson(with Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder): “I want oatmeal for breakfast.” Later: “What are those things in my oatmeal?”

“Peaches. Pick them out if you don’t like them. No complaints. No whining. No crying. We go through this every morning. And I want you to be aware that, because of the FASD, you have had a problem with textures. But you can overcome that. You just have to work a little harder at things sometimes. Also, grumbling and complaining is a sin. God doesn’t like it, so work on that, too.”

“But I hate those things! They just don’t taste good to me.”

“You used to LOVE that kind of oatmeal. You just hate the texture.”

“Well,” he continues with tears in his voice, “I have grown and my taste buds have changed.”

“Pick the peach parts out!” I say, exasperation raising my voice, “And suck it up! You are tougher than this! You can do this. You have to quit falling apart over everything.”  ugh. Suck it up?  Jeesh. Not my best moment.

“I guess I am a wimp.” Xavier is saying.

“NO! You are tough! And with God’s help, you can do anything. Anyhow, like I said, you used to love those things.”

“Well, now it tastes like I’m eating a rat.”

“We cannot afford to waste food! EAT THE OATMEAL! Get a fork and move all the peach parts to the side.”

“Ooooh,” (more whining), “I really wanted eggs.”

As I scrape the oatmeal into the trash later, I wonder whether to laugh or cry. Maybe a little bit of both.

Xavier and the Funny Side of Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder

Xavier at 3, trying to be a rock star. (he is)

I seriously hope I don’t run in to the monkey that’s roaming our neighborhood. I didn’t see him, but Xavier did. This morning when he was sitting in the car waiting for me to drive him to school, apparently a monkey was trying to cross the road, his knuckles dragging across the pavement as he moved. Xavier (the eight year old grandson I have been raising) yelled instructions to him as to how to cross safely. The monkey thanked him, and was gone. And that is how my morning started.
His stories go on. And on. And he is so oftentimes convinced that they’re not stories at all, but fact.
I can’t blame him, with all of his many challenges in life, for wanting to fantasize. But I wonder how much is driven by the brain damage that is FASD.
Bullying at school goes on every year. Since he is in a class for kids with “special needs,” there are some kids in his small class who have outbursts of anger, and X is the target of that anger. He’s so vulnerable, sweet, affectionate. That paints a target on his back. (Everywhere we go. The pool, the park…everywhere).
One problem that we’re facing is that, when he’s outside the classroom with his aides and teacher who know his boundaries, abilities and limitations, he doesn’t get treated fairly. And I don’t even mean just by other students, I mean teachers as well. If they don’t GET what’s going on with him, they make demands that are just out of his reach. He comes home feeling overwhelmed, dejected, and not wanting to go back to face the same ole same ole the next day. Who can blame him.
One day at a time. But I still wonder what is going to happen to him as an adult with FASD. Lord, help us.

Here are some links that will take you to info on FASD. I wish more people would become aware of this and spread the news. There is such a lack of education where FASD is concerned. Teachers don’t know. Judges don’t know. DOCTORS don’t know.

Click to access _fasdtool_fullproof_final.pdf

Click to access FASDTheBasics.pdf