Lights

Day 4:  Lights

This morning was a typical start of the day for us.  We all went to bed far later than would be deemed appropriate by my children’s teachers, so the morning came before we were all really ready for it.  We try to tip-toe around a bit in the morning, hoping Coleman will sleep just a tad later than the girls.  His school day doesn’t start until 8:50 a.m., an hour and a half after the girls have to be at school, so in a perfect world he would sleep an hour and a half later.  I think we’ve already established our world is not perfect.  As it is, Coleman usually wakes up the moment he hears anyone up.  But today, likely due to the even-later-than usual late bedtime, he was groggy and slept beyond everyone.  As 7 a.m. approached, I had to wake him.  He has an absolute-lose-it-all-can’t-recover-for-hours type of meltdown if the girls are gone before he wakes up.  Standing at the front door sobbing come back, call them, just call them, hitting, yelling and so on.  A real treat at 7 a.m.  So we have learned that waking him to see the girls off far outweighs the otherwise nice benefit of letting him get an extra half hour of sleep.  Thus at 7:00, I went in to wake him.  And as always, he goes from 0 to 60 in about 4 seconds flat.  Popped up, scanned the room, and exclaimed “LIGHTS ON!”

So perseverating on Lights is a fairly new OCD issue for Coleman.  OCD issues are absolutely a post in and of itself, so I’ll save you the fun details of all that for another time.  But the Light issue started our day today so you’re hearing about this part first.  The lights in the room were already on when I woke Coleman.   The lights in the bathroom and the closet, however, were off.  Which means that I went in there, turned them on and then had the audacity to turn them off when I was finished.  Turning them off is Coleman’s job.  Or at least he thinks it is. 

I don’t even know how or why this habit started – but it began only a couple of months ago and started with the first floor bathroom.  Suddenly he was standing outside the door waiting for whoever was in there to finish so he could shut off the light.  Sometimes he wouldn’t wait, just shut the light off and yell in “All Done!”  It progressed so that now, even when his is in the playroom – literally the other side of the house – he is alert to the light switch.  He hears the tiny click the switch makes when turned off (had there been any lingering doubt about the quality of his hearing, there no longer would be) and yells from the playroom “LIGHT ON!”   He runs out of the playroom and across the first floor, coming to a quick halt in front of the light switch.  He flips the light switch off and runs back to the playroom.   

In direct contrast to his need to be the Master of Shutting Off The Lights, is his need to keep the playroom light on, at all times.  Especially at bedtime.  At first I thought it had to do with his guys – they are always lined up in the playroom.  I thought maybe he doesn’t want his guys to be afraid in the dark so I let him leave the light on.  And then I would tip-toe down the stairs under the guise of getting a drink of water and shut it off.  Ah, the good old days.  He’s on to that scam now, and as I sneak down he peers over the top railing and as soon as he sees the brightness of the dark kitchen change, he yells “LIGHTS ON!”    

Part of the reason these OCD behaviors grow and become obsessive is because at first they seem silly and harmless. Like this foolish light switch business.  You think, really, I have bigger pigs to fry than this, I’ll leave the light on for him and let it go.  But then it grows.  And grows.  And grows.  And suddenly it’s a full-fledged issue.   Coleman’s light fixation now covers nearly every light switch in the house – for some weird reason the kitchen and the family room he doesn’t bother with, but every bathroom, closet, pantry, and bedroom he needs to shut off.   Turning on or off the light somehow keeps everything in order.  He’ll stand outside the girls bathroom as they are cleaning up before bed and, hand on the switch, say “All done?” as he turns it off.  They tell him to put it back on.  A few minutes passes and again “All done?” and off goes the light.  It doesn’t take long before Emma is ready to clock him.  In the morning, he wakes with a start to check the lights, monitoring exactly which lights have changed status since he went to bed.  Next up is my closet, and if I have had the unfortunate timing of not being already dressed, he stands inside my closet as I’m getting ready, waiting, hand on the light.  “All done” he says, and shuts it off.  “No, Coleman, back on.”  5 minutes passes and again, the light goes off. “All done?”  “No Coleman, put it back on.”  5 minutes and again.  This fun little game goes on several times before I want to scream.  You’re probably thinking 1) why does it take you so long to get dressed and 2) why not just keep him from doing it.   The answer to the first is I am not a fan of morning.  I’m slow.  And as for the second, it does seem easy, right?  Just tell him no.  Live with the tantrum.  It’s just not that simple. 

One night not long ago, he caught me sneaking down to turn the playroom light off.  It was late, I was tired.  He was upset, wanted it back on.  But I was trying to hold ground.  “I’m sorry.  The light in playroom is off.  We can turn it on tomorrow.”  And he was a disaster.  For hours.  I literally fell asleep beside him, and woke up many hours later, around 3 am.  Well, good, I thought.  We made it.  As I got up to leave the room, he said in quiet, sad voice “Please put light on.”  He was wide awake, just waiting.  5 hours later.  And so, heartbroken for what he can’t seem to control, I went down the stairs and turned on the light.  And sometimes, that’s just how it goes.