Mom needs OT

Not too long ago we began occupational therapy for Henry, and I could go on and on about how much I love it, but that's for another day. Today we'll talk about how Mommy apparently needs occupational therapy.

I've always known I was a bit sensitive. I gagged until I almost threw up when required to make paper mache junk in elementary school. My mom says she walked into my preschool Sunday School class to see me gagging with my hands in finger paint. When I was 3 years old, Mom drove by a building with fresh tar on the roof, and I threw up at the smell. I've outgrown a lot of this, but yeah, I'm sensitive.

A couple weeks ago Henry's OT, Eva, pulled out shaving cream and a huge tub of Elmer's glue. Uh-oh. Of course I do want Henry to have all these sensory experiences and not throw up in elementary school, but that doesn't mean I have to like it too. Right? As I watched Henry mixing the shaving cream and glue with his hands (apparently it dries into a cool consistency and later they were going to make a snowman with it), I was struggling to curtail my gag reflex. Seriously, it was all I could do. If Eva had asked me a question I probably would have been in trouble.

This week's tactile experience was Mr. Bubble foam soap. Henry was doing well with it and I was surprisingly ok too, and then Eva asked me the question I've feared: "Do you want to see what it feels like?"

Oh, YES, please let me put hands in pink squishy junk that makes me feel sick just looking at it.

But, really, what could I do? I sucked in my breath, chirped, "Sure!" and stuck my fingertips in that foam. I did not throw up. I did wipe my hands off as soon as a towel was offered.

This is love, people. This is love.