Remember When I Told You . . .

. . . that Pebbles is a screamer?

Seriously. I don’t know why this child’s screams haven’t shattered all our windows. They should be measured on the Richter Scale.

We actually tried to have that done. Here are the results.

Pebbles' screams are off the Richter Scale

Pebbles can scream from several rooms away, with all the doors closed, and I can literally feel my eardrums vibrate.

Fortunately she doesn’t scream all day long, about any and every little thing anymore. If she did this blog probably wouldn’t exist because I don’t think personal laptops are allowed in psychiatric hospitals.

But Pebbles still has her moments, when she’s feeling out-of-kilter and isn’t handling the horrible injustices of life as well as she does most of the time these days.

Like five minutes ago. I heard a piercing scream from the living room. Actually I felt it just before I heard it. Kinda like when you feel, then hear, a sonic boom.

The Rock and I have worked hard to encourage Pebbles to “use your words,” rather than screaming bloody murder when she needs help with something.

But sometimes she forgets.

Like five minutes ago.

I’ve learned over the past eight years of dealing with the screaming, that just because it sounds like she’s on fire or being savagely mutilated, she’s probably not.

I think the dog would let me know in either case.

So I no longer go rushing to her aid when she screams. And sometimes she figures out how to handle stuff by herself.

That didn’t happen today, though.

The screams got louder and closer,  so I knew she was bringing some life-altering problem to me to figure out.

“WAAAAHHH!!! THE MOUSE STOPPED WORKING!!!!!”

Me: Did you check to make sure it’s still plugged in?

Pebbles: WAAAA . . . what?

I repeat the question, she resumes her screaming, and goes to check. Then I hear… silence. Blessed silence.

Ah, yes. Another catastrophe nipped in the bud.

So Pebbles goes back to watching Minecraft videos on Youtube or playing Minecraft.

I go back to my work. And prepare myself for the next onslaught.

Is there combat pay for parents of screamers? Or maybe disability for ongoing Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?

Wondering who The Rock and Pebbles are? Want to know
why we’re raising Pebbles? And who the heck is OCD Louie?
Find the answers and more on my About My Blog page.

You might also like Eleven Random Facts About Me and
My Answers to Sophie’s Questions on my Liebster page.

Advertisements

About Mai Stone

“A person without a sense of humor is like a wagon without springs…jolted by every pebble on the road.” ~ Henry Ward Beecher ~ A sense of humor is essential for surviving the pebbles on life’s road. Especially when they’re the size of boulders.
This entry was posted in Pebbles, Special Needs and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Remember When I Told You . . .

  1. scifihammy says:

    Sympathies! and maybe a set of ear plugs? 😉 Sounds like Pebbles is super aware of events. Thank goodness you keep your calm – mostly 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you. I think we do indeed deserve sympathy. She is *very* super aware of, and super sensitive, to *lots* of events. Then, there are times when she hardly reacts to things that other times she melts down about. I’m not sure I’m actually keeping calm or zoning out. Either way seems to work.

      Like

  2. Pingback: Super Fun at the County Fair with Sensory Processing Disorder | Pebbles On The Road

  3. Pingback: “WHY is Herobrine on Your BLOG?!!”** | Pebbles On The Road

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s