Labelling children

So, what's wrong with a label?

My husband constantly complains he can't spell. He gets offended when I say he can he just needs to practice more. I'm not saying he's not worked hard enough, I'm just saying that by writing himself off, he's effectively giving up. Labelling himself as a 'none speller'. Someone who'll never be able to spell. There is of course a possibility that, as a very dyslexic man, he'll never be able to spell certain words, just as a fish will never be able to climb a tree but why give up entirely? He finds it embarrassing, and often avoids it, but in the years we've been married I've learnt to sound out his text messages and often they make perfect sense, so long as I do it in his Derbyshire accent.

It's the same with my eldest, Ed, who is undergoing a diagnosis for Asperger's. He may never be able to cope with certain situations; he may never be able to deal with a lot of noise or his lack of control. But I'm not certain that's true, given guidance and coping mechanisms he'll probably be just fine. 

The label could help him, provide him with the support he needs to carry out a normal and fulfilling life. I would like to hope it wouldn't hinder him, or encourage him to avoid situations he presumes he wouldn't be able to cope with. 

I know labelling children can be detrimental, creating a self fulfilling prophecy. 
The arty kids find it hard to gain respect in the maths class.
The mathletes find it hard to earn respect in P.E. class.
And the trouble makers finds it hard to gain trust because it's much less effort to just behave how everyone expects you to.
Maybe the ADD kid will never sit down because everyone around him presumes he can't. Or maybe, actually, he can't. 

My husband wasn't given his dyslexia diagnosis until it was too late. His self confidence had plummeted and with an earlier label and more support, maybe he wouldn't be so quick to write himself off.

Without a diagnosis, without an explanation as to why my little boys behave the way they do, I feel a little lost. My first port of call is of course to blame myself, blame my crappy parenting skills. But actually, I'm doing my best, I know I am.

During a family meal the other day, everyone commented (adults and children alike) that Ed was having crisps while everyone else enjoyed a delicious home baked meal. He was at least sat at the table, bless him. But we've been through all of this before, and I know he knows I think he's missing out on great food, but that isn't going to make a blind bit of difference to him. For some unknown reason, he can't bring himself to eat most foods. What they didn't see was that before everyone had pudding, he had a bowl of cereal, a cereal he'd never tried before. With gentle encouragement he took two nibbles of the dry flakes, which disgusted him, but then five minutes later he asked if he could try it with milk. I made him a small bowl, which he ate, so I topped it up and we were happy for him to have pudding with everyone else (crisps do not earn you pudding deserving status in our house). He did his best, he tried something new (epic!) and he handled it brilliantly, but I imagine everyone still thinks I'm a bad mother for not making him eat the yummy meal. 

Fresh from a meeting with a speech and language therapist today, presumably the first of many meetings regarding my youngest, who chooses to use his fists instead of his words at school, I found that my referral from the doctor had coincided with a referral from school which basically said he was at risk of being expelled. I knew this of course, but it was a shock to see it on paper. 
Please excuse me while I have a little cry because my lovely little ray of sunshine is deemed 'a threat' by strangers. I can't put into words how sweet Bean is, he just can't seem to control his emotions. 
The therapist seemed surprised to hear that his school haven't started putting any systems in place to deal with his behaviour yet, aside from the one they use for everyone, but I'll not slag them off because they have been so kind and understanding with both my little guys and together we'll get there in the end.

My point is, left to his own devices, my beautiful, loving, bouncy, intelligent little man would soon be expelled from school simply because everything in his head is all jumbled up, it moves too fast and he can't concentrate long enough to see it. He has no idea what his doing, he doesn't understand the consequences enough to stop himself before it happens. The self esteem of this gorgeous boy is in our hands, and a label will help him understand who he is, that he's not broken, he's just different.
Talking to the therapist today, trying to answer all her questions, made me realise just how much we, as a family, just get on with it. We have so many different coping strategies which come so naturally now, it's difficult to pin point which ones are abnormal. As we chatted, I realised that actually having my Mum, who visits at least three times a week turn round to me a say; 
"Yay! Bean said two whole sentences to me!" 
is abnormal because he's five, he just doesn't often choose to speak to other people.
It helps that Bean and I are on the same page. We have always simply clicked and I'm now wondering if there's a running theme here. The more I research ADHD, the more it makes perfect sense to me. I think I presumed everyone's mind worked this way, but maybe that's not the case. I read this a few weeks ago and it pretty much sums up the warning I gave Mr Strawberry before we got married. I remember sitting him down and explaining just how hard I will be to live with. Until I started looking into how to deal with Bean, I never realised how many of these ADHD traits I have myself. I did one of those lovely online tests and got a ridiculously high score. I bet the Doctor would love it if I turned up with that haha. I imagine they get really sick of self-diagnosis and web research. Thankfully, Mr Strawberry loves me regardless.
It's going to sound mean, but my Asperger's research has only led to confusion, I can't seem to get my head around it and more often than not, Ed and I rub each other up the wrong way. I feel nothing but gratefulness that he at least has Daddy. Daddy gets him in a way I cannot. I love him and I'll always provide for him, but I struggle to understand what's going on in his noggin.

The problem with labelling is that it can make us a bit lapsy-daisy. I often find myself forgiving Ed for things I wouldn't let Bean get away with and visa versa. My expectations for each of them is different, but I could be really really wrong.
Also, I've never told them what my visits to the doctor are about because I don't want them to feel 'abnormal'. I occasionally wonder if at the end of this, if one of them, or both of them, doesn't get the diagnosis we're after, will I fight for it? I'm not sure. Today's society of labels creates a vision of what is 'normal' and labels what is not. I don't want my kids to feel like outsiders. We are all individual snowflakes, each with our own quirks. So maybe, treating them differently is exactly what I should be doing. They are not the same child, the same rules do not apply (to a certain extent of course, because no-one is allowed to throw shoes at Mummy's head!). When Ed starts to get grouchy, we encourage him to spend some time alone to gather his thoughts, either in another room with some Lego or on Minecraft. When Bean punches me in the tummy, I ask him politely not to do that (he doesn't listen). I don't naughty step them, because for them, that is a cruel torture device (I understand it works for others, I'm not judging). In fact, when Bean gets really out of hand and can't be distracted, I sit down and hug him, because sofa time with Mummy seems to help when his head's exploding.

But Ed will never be able to cope with the well meaning but heavily sarcastic remarks made by strangers. The other day, while we were paying for our shopping at the checkout, the stupid cashier commented on his thick hair and asked if he could have it. I knew the exact thoughts that were passing through his mind and his shocked expression confirmed my fears. I do so wish people would stop that.
Maybe they both need t-shirts (in their favourite colours of course);

Bean's.

Ed's.