Isaac is at our back door. His breakfast sits on the table, honey nut cheerios getting soggier by the second. A bowl of sliced bananas waits patiently next to the bobbing O's. "Mom! Is it time now?"
It's his first day back to school, and he's excited. I'm so glad. I'm even more glad that he's ready to ride the bus again.
After a traumatic experience for Isaac last winter, and his regular bus driver had to take a leave of absence due to illness, the change was too much for him to handle. Too many new faces too frequently threw him for a loop. He refused to ride the bus to school, so I had to drive him each morning. Of course I tried different tactics to try and get him to ride in the mornings, even going so far as to physically putting him, kicking and screaming, onto the bus and watching his face contort and cry through the bus window as it drove away. Uh-uh. No way was I going to do that again. For as much as I wanted Isaac to be willing to do what I wanted him to do, I had to realize that losing a battle didn't mean giving up the war.
As a mom of a child (with or without delays) you willingly have to make the conscious decision that your days are no longer about what is best for you. It's about what is best for your child.
I drove Isaac to school for the rest of the school year. He had no problems riding the bus home (which was so strange for me to understand) so we worked with what he was willing to do and tried a new tactic this school year.
Isaac's wonderful preschool teacher created a "Social Story" book for him. This is a story, personalized for Isaac, that he can read to himself to get mentally prepared for riding the bus again. It included pictures to help him connect places with actions, familiar with the unfamiliar. It gives him a context for what will happen when he gets ready to ride the bus again.
As we stand in the driveway, Isaac with his jacket and backpack, bopping excitedly up and down looking for that big yellow bus...I will be ready for more stories to come. Battles, come what may....
Monday, August 29, 2011
Friday, August 26, 2011
Summertime...and the livin' was easy....
It's been awhile...but the while has been full of wonder...
Our family returned to Pine Knoll Shores, North Carolina in July to splash and sun ourselves for 10 days. Isaac was able to fly on a plane again, which is oftentimes the highlight of the adventure. His best in-flight moment was actually during take-off when he announced to the entire plane, "5-4-3-2-1....BLASTOFF!!!!!" as we left the tarmac.
Isaac's part fish, we discovered. He puts on his arm floaties and off he goes, content to kick and swim all over the pool. Swim toys? You can keep 'em. He just wanted to jump in, be thrown in or a combination of both. We have yet to get him to remember to close his mouth though. Every night we had to change the sheets of the beachhouse bed he slept in because he literally soaked through the Pull Ups with how much pool water he consumed. Still, as happy as a clam...and usually as submerged as one...
One of the wonderful things we experienced with Isaac this year was FREEDOM. We were able to see more, do more, and allow him a bit more room to explore.
In the mornings, we'd sit on the porch with binoculars and look for dolphins feeding in the calm, glassy, surf. When we'd walk along the shore in the early evening, we'd say, "run...go ahead Isaac, run til you can't run anymore!" And he would. Hot, sweaty, red faced, and a smile miles wide. At the Pine Knoll Shores Aquarium, he felt a real stingray, watched otters swim (faster than even Isaac could). He embraced it all like we did.
In Raleigh, where we stayed downtown for 2 nights after our beach trip, we enjoyed the free museums and the amazingly affordable and fantastic Marbles Kids Museum. We walked around the city as a family, had some genuine southern BBQ, and let someone make our beds and clean up after me for a change (gosh, I love hotels...especially the ones with "pillow menus": HEAVENLY.)
I watched as my son touched, tasted and discovered his way through most of our vacation--shells, sand, salt water, pool water, restaurants, museums, memories.
It was a summer full of livin'...and Isaac did it well.
Our family returned to Pine Knoll Shores, North Carolina in July to splash and sun ourselves for 10 days. Isaac was able to fly on a plane again, which is oftentimes the highlight of the adventure. His best in-flight moment was actually during take-off when he announced to the entire plane, "5-4-3-2-1....BLASTOFF!!!!!" as we left the tarmac.
Isaac's part fish, we discovered. He puts on his arm floaties and off he goes, content to kick and swim all over the pool. Swim toys? You can keep 'em. He just wanted to jump in, be thrown in or a combination of both. We have yet to get him to remember to close his mouth though. Every night we had to change the sheets of the beachhouse bed he slept in because he literally soaked through the Pull Ups with how much pool water he consumed. Still, as happy as a clam...and usually as submerged as one...
One of the wonderful things we experienced with Isaac this year was FREEDOM. We were able to see more, do more, and allow him a bit more room to explore.
In the mornings, we'd sit on the porch with binoculars and look for dolphins feeding in the calm, glassy, surf. When we'd walk along the shore in the early evening, we'd say, "run...go ahead Isaac, run til you can't run anymore!" And he would. Hot, sweaty, red faced, and a smile miles wide. At the Pine Knoll Shores Aquarium, he felt a real stingray, watched otters swim (faster than even Isaac could). He embraced it all like we did.
In Raleigh, where we stayed downtown for 2 nights after our beach trip, we enjoyed the free museums and the amazingly affordable and fantastic Marbles Kids Museum. We walked around the city as a family, had some genuine southern BBQ, and let someone make our beds and clean up after me for a change (gosh, I love hotels...especially the ones with "pillow menus": HEAVENLY.)
I watched as my son touched, tasted and discovered his way through most of our vacation--shells, sand, salt water, pool water, restaurants, museums, memories.
It was a summer full of livin'...and Isaac did it well.
Saturday, July 9, 2011
look and listen
"Mom!" I'm putting bagels out on a platter for our annual 4th of July party. "MOM!" The voice is louder, if that's even possible. And excited.
"Yes, Booder" I ask, without looking at him. He stands at my hip until I look at him. (Practice what you preach, right Mom?) "Is today July?" "Yes, today is July 4th." He opens his mouth wide and raises his eyebrows into an extreme position. "Is it the PARADE today?" I smile. "Yep!" A loud roar of approval comes from his being and he disappears outside to tell Daddy.
The parade is a big deal. Lots of friends and family come to celebrate Independence Day with breakfast on the front porch, a great parade that passes our house with oodles of candy, and yes...loud cars and trucks, fire engines and emergency vehicles all blaring sirens and honking horns.
When he was younger, I would try and give him doses of the excitement--let him taste a little here and there, because after all, who doesn't love a parade? Isaac didn't. And I had to accept that. While all the kids were out jumping and shouting for candy, Isaac was content to sit away and just watch. Cautious. Which is a word that hardly exists in his vocabulary.
Each year, he gets a bit more daring. He sits on the curb, perched close to the action. He covers his ears when things get too loud, but he stays put, watching the cars, listening to the sounds. He gets a close view of the action, and sits to watch the entire hour long parade. He is still cautious...but he is enjoying.
There is a healthy amount of fear, but it's not keeping him from experiencing a wonderful tradition, and making a great memory.
Each year has become a celebration of more than just our nation's freedom--it's a celebration of Isaac's freedom to enjoy the experience, to look and listen...and come out of his shell a bit more.
Cue the fireworks.
"Yes, Booder" I ask, without looking at him. He stands at my hip until I look at him. (Practice what you preach, right Mom?) "Is today July?" "Yes, today is July 4th." He opens his mouth wide and raises his eyebrows into an extreme position. "Is it the PARADE today?" I smile. "Yep!" A loud roar of approval comes from his being and he disappears outside to tell Daddy.
The parade is a big deal. Lots of friends and family come to celebrate Independence Day with breakfast on the front porch, a great parade that passes our house with oodles of candy, and yes...loud cars and trucks, fire engines and emergency vehicles all blaring sirens and honking horns.
When he was younger, I would try and give him doses of the excitement--let him taste a little here and there, because after all, who doesn't love a parade? Isaac didn't. And I had to accept that. While all the kids were out jumping and shouting for candy, Isaac was content to sit away and just watch. Cautious. Which is a word that hardly exists in his vocabulary.
Each year, he gets a bit more daring. He sits on the curb, perched close to the action. He covers his ears when things get too loud, but he stays put, watching the cars, listening to the sounds. He gets a close view of the action, and sits to watch the entire hour long parade. He is still cautious...but he is enjoying.
There is a healthy amount of fear, but it's not keeping him from experiencing a wonderful tradition, and making a great memory.
Each year has become a celebration of more than just our nation's freedom--it's a celebration of Isaac's freedom to enjoy the experience, to look and listen...and come out of his shell a bit more.
Cue the fireworks.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Rambo, Snuggle, and baked beans
The last 48 hours seem a blur. That's probably because, due to my lack of sleep and over-abundance of concern, I had to focus on just getting through. This is my "Mommy mode" when my children get sick.
Isaac managed to get himself a small sinus infection that brought along a viral friend. Not fun. 103.4 fevers in the middle of the night and day, that nasty bug has been wreaking havoc on my little guy's belly and body as a whole.
My control issues didn't start as a parent, they were there a long time prior. I have worked very hard on defining myself based on who I am, and not what I can or cannot do. But when my smiley, goofy little boy turns into a pale, pile of pain...control freak Christa jumps out of her skin and comes to life.
Don't mess with my kids, fool.
I arm myself with cleaning products while making sure Isaac is comfortable and drinking liquids...I fly here, I flit there, I throw a load of Isaac's bedsheets and clothes in with color-safe bleach on the hot water cycle (just to give me peace-of-mind that I'm the Rambo of germ killing). I've got this.
Until I sit by my son on the couch, flip his pillow to the "cold side," and look into his eyes. They're red and fevered. He begins to cry. And so do I.
After we cuddle for a minute, and I let my Rambo side slip away in place of my Snuggle bear softness, the empathy fills my heart. Wow. Being a mom requires so many emotions. I've got this.
Then, he says it. With a small, wavering voice, he turns to me from watching a commercial on TV and says, "I want some Bush's baked beans." Rambo...no....Snuggle? Definitely not...
"You want some Bush's baked beans?" I repeat with a chuckle. "I don't think that's good for your tummy right now, sweetheart."
Fast forward 5 hours, and my once fevered boy is hopping around the kitchen, eating some dinner for the first time in 2 days, and asking me to exercise with him. Oh, Isaac, you have no idea how much you've exercised my emotions in the past couple of days.
You keep my heart fit. We've got this.
Isaac managed to get himself a small sinus infection that brought along a viral friend. Not fun. 103.4 fevers in the middle of the night and day, that nasty bug has been wreaking havoc on my little guy's belly and body as a whole.
My control issues didn't start as a parent, they were there a long time prior. I have worked very hard on defining myself based on who I am, and not what I can or cannot do. But when my smiley, goofy little boy turns into a pale, pile of pain...control freak Christa jumps out of her skin and comes to life.
Don't mess with my kids, fool.
I arm myself with cleaning products while making sure Isaac is comfortable and drinking liquids...I fly here, I flit there, I throw a load of Isaac's bedsheets and clothes in with color-safe bleach on the hot water cycle (just to give me peace-of-mind that I'm the Rambo of germ killing). I've got this.
Until I sit by my son on the couch, flip his pillow to the "cold side," and look into his eyes. They're red and fevered. He begins to cry. And so do I.
After we cuddle for a minute, and I let my Rambo side slip away in place of my Snuggle bear softness, the empathy fills my heart. Wow. Being a mom requires so many emotions. I've got this.
Then, he says it. With a small, wavering voice, he turns to me from watching a commercial on TV and says, "I want some Bush's baked beans." Rambo...no....Snuggle? Definitely not...
"You want some Bush's baked beans?" I repeat with a chuckle. "I don't think that's good for your tummy right now, sweetheart."
Fast forward 5 hours, and my once fevered boy is hopping around the kitchen, eating some dinner for the first time in 2 days, and asking me to exercise with him. Oh, Isaac, you have no idea how much you've exercised my emotions in the past couple of days.
You keep my heart fit. We've got this.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Moon rocks and other potential things...
The air is muggy, but warm. Small swarms of bugs that float like clouds hover around above the moving water. A couple of crickets are having a "sing off" not far from the rocky shore, while lightning bugs shine spotlights on their summer evening stage. A trip to the river with my guys.
Isaac is drawn to the water. He always has been, and this, like most opposing forces, can be bad and good. Good, because he is willing to adventure a bit more than the average child. Bad, because, well...where there's adventure, one would hope there would be a healthy amount of fear...but Isaac usually has none.
As we skim the ground for skipping stones, I watch my sons hard at work. Ethan, like his Dad, is slow and methodical--calculating each rock for it's diameter, perhaps forming a ratio between mass and velocity for maximum skipability. Then, there's Isaac. Oh, Isaac. No care goes into the stone of choice--except that it must be heavier than it appears, dirtier than most, and completely buried beneath smaller, less superior, stones. (AKA, a boulder)
I watch my 4 1/2 year old hoist his back into lifting a rock like a Norwegian on an ESPN Strongman competition. Cheeks puff out, muscles flex, and knees bow as he hauls it to the edge of the water.
He launches it. 2 inches in front of him, barely making it into the water and hardly clearing his flip flopped toes.
"Whoa!" Is all I hear him say.
He keeps up this rigorous routine until he has literally altered the flow of the river by the massive amounts of earth he has moved. This boy doesn't let anything stop him.
This is why I love him so.
This boy sees a big rock, hidden beneath dirt, thought too big and clumsy to skip...and he digs it up, and sends it for the ride of it's life. He doesn't see the difference between possible and impossible. He is the literal, physical definition of potential.
"Mommy, look!" I maneuver over to him, and he holds out a fist. "I found the moon!"
Keep it up, Booder, and you'll have the world in your hand too.
Isaac is drawn to the water. He always has been, and this, like most opposing forces, can be bad and good. Good, because he is willing to adventure a bit more than the average child. Bad, because, well...where there's adventure, one would hope there would be a healthy amount of fear...but Isaac usually has none.
As we skim the ground for skipping stones, I watch my sons hard at work. Ethan, like his Dad, is slow and methodical--calculating each rock for it's diameter, perhaps forming a ratio between mass and velocity for maximum skipability. Then, there's Isaac. Oh, Isaac. No care goes into the stone of choice--except that it must be heavier than it appears, dirtier than most, and completely buried beneath smaller, less superior, stones. (AKA, a boulder)
I watch my 4 1/2 year old hoist his back into lifting a rock like a Norwegian on an ESPN Strongman competition. Cheeks puff out, muscles flex, and knees bow as he hauls it to the edge of the water.
He launches it. 2 inches in front of him, barely making it into the water and hardly clearing his flip flopped toes.
"Whoa!" Is all I hear him say.
He keeps up this rigorous routine until he has literally altered the flow of the river by the massive amounts of earth he has moved. This boy doesn't let anything stop him.
This is why I love him so.
This boy sees a big rock, hidden beneath dirt, thought too big and clumsy to skip...and he digs it up, and sends it for the ride of it's life. He doesn't see the difference between possible and impossible. He is the literal, physical definition of potential.
"Mommy, look!" I maneuver over to him, and he holds out a fist. "I found the moon!"
Keep it up, Booder, and you'll have the world in your hand too.
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Logan
I never thought I would loose sleep over Isaac starting something like Vacation Bible School. But I have.
Sunday night, I woke up three times, and each time, my eyelids would flip open like pop can tops. I would think about how he would do in the large auditorium with screaming, excited children...and flash back to just last year when the noise was impossible for him to take when we would drop Ethan off with his teammates. Don't worry, Christa...he'll be fine...he's come a long way...
But have I?
The wonderful people at Parkside Church who run this amazing program for kids did everything possible to help Isaac adjust. When I registered the boys, and indicated Isaac's delays, they called me and personally asked what they could do to help him with transitions. (I can't tell you how wonderful that made me feel...just to hear someone ask what they can do for Isaac...it's like my brain can take a huge sigh of relief). "Would Isaac do better with a special helper?" I could feel my eye brows furrow at the term "special helper," but after thinking for a moment, I said, "You know what, it would probably help give him a point of reference when he does get overwhelmed."
This special helper's name, I was told, is Logan.
When Isaac and Logan met, they couldn't have been more opposite. Logan is a tall, glasses wearing, sweet tempered and soft spoken young high school freshman. At first, I thought the match wouldn't work. How would this mild mannered kid keep Isaac focused? Turns out, they were a perfect fit.
This was the second full day of VBS for the kids, and Isaac has Logan as a buddy. They run errands together, just to help Isaac get refocused for a team activity or a longer sit-down-and-focus time. Logan talked to Isaac like every other child, and without being loud or obnoxious, he has gained Isaac's trust with softness and kindness. He didn't mind that Isaac's normal tone of voice is louder than most--he spoke with an even level sound and it helped Isaac reign himself in. I even watched as Isaac played with Logan in the classroom (okay, I snuck a peek or two) while the other kids ran and conversed...Isaac was content for time alone with his big new friend. I made a mental note of this: Isaac will need one trustworthy, soft-spoken, kind and gentle best friend as opposed to lots and lots of acquaintances like his big brother, Ethan. This is how Isaac will thrive in a big world.
Thanks, Logan, for being an example of friendship to Isaac, and for giving me just one view of how Isaac will thrive in the years to come.
I can sleep peacefully tonight.
Sunday night, I woke up three times, and each time, my eyelids would flip open like pop can tops. I would think about how he would do in the large auditorium with screaming, excited children...and flash back to just last year when the noise was impossible for him to take when we would drop Ethan off with his teammates. Don't worry, Christa...he'll be fine...he's come a long way...
But have I?
The wonderful people at Parkside Church who run this amazing program for kids did everything possible to help Isaac adjust. When I registered the boys, and indicated Isaac's delays, they called me and personally asked what they could do to help him with transitions. (I can't tell you how wonderful that made me feel...just to hear someone ask what they can do for Isaac...it's like my brain can take a huge sigh of relief). "Would Isaac do better with a special helper?" I could feel my eye brows furrow at the term "special helper," but after thinking for a moment, I said, "You know what, it would probably help give him a point of reference when he does get overwhelmed."
This special helper's name, I was told, is Logan.
When Isaac and Logan met, they couldn't have been more opposite. Logan is a tall, glasses wearing, sweet tempered and soft spoken young high school freshman. At first, I thought the match wouldn't work. How would this mild mannered kid keep Isaac focused? Turns out, they were a perfect fit.
This was the second full day of VBS for the kids, and Isaac has Logan as a buddy. They run errands together, just to help Isaac get refocused for a team activity or a longer sit-down-and-focus time. Logan talked to Isaac like every other child, and without being loud or obnoxious, he has gained Isaac's trust with softness and kindness. He didn't mind that Isaac's normal tone of voice is louder than most--he spoke with an even level sound and it helped Isaac reign himself in. I even watched as Isaac played with Logan in the classroom (okay, I snuck a peek or two) while the other kids ran and conversed...Isaac was content for time alone with his big new friend. I made a mental note of this: Isaac will need one trustworthy, soft-spoken, kind and gentle best friend as opposed to lots and lots of acquaintances like his big brother, Ethan. This is how Isaac will thrive in a big world.
Thanks, Logan, for being an example of friendship to Isaac, and for giving me just one view of how Isaac will thrive in the years to come.
I can sleep peacefully tonight.
Wednesday, June 15, 2011
White Meatballs!
I'm not a risk taker. I believe this is why God blessed me with boys. I am forced to think outside of my box, and, lately, challenge myself to try more than ever to Carpe Diem.
Today was haircut day. My boys love going because the place has cool cars to sit in, movies and games to watch and play, and best of all? A free skeeball and free throw machine, train table, and Legos (just to name a few) when they're done! We make a morning of it. I tend to Isaac as he struggles with the sound and feel of the "ticklers" (this is the fun name we've given to the hair clippers, hoping it will help ease his sensory issues). He's a champ, only getting figgity at the end. This boy deserves a treat, I tell him!
I decide to take the boys to Dunkin Donuts. I haven't had my coffee yet, and a coupon in my purse for a free one determines this to be the place. We never have donuts. They are a rarity. So, when we walk into the shop, the smell of fried bread covered with sugar hits our noses like a tidal wave of deliciousness. Isaac curiously eyes up the place...
Ethan opts for jelly filled, and Isaac, still unsure says, "I don't like it." As a mom...this is my dilemma. How do I consciously ENCOURAGE my child to eat a donut? Thinking out of the box...it's about trying something new, and for Isaac, it's a life lesson learned. So...I continue pushing the donut. He goes to sit at the table and I decide for him. 3 Munchin donuts rolled in powdered sugar will do the trick. I'm sure of it.
As we sit to partake, Isaac eyes up the bag with his treat inside. Ethan devours his jelly filled edible pillow of delight, and Isaac...well, this one holds the donut hole in his hand and loudly proclaims: "I LOVE WHITE MEATBALLS, MOM!"
Ethan and I burst out laughing and watch in both horror and pleasure as Isaac takes a savory bite...and another...and is wiping feverishly at the powdered sugar coating his little lips with delight...he wants another one, Mommy.
I can't always say we'll go to Dunkin Donuts more often. Because it wasn't about the "white meatballs." It was about trying something new. Enjoying a change. Savoring the moment.
Literally.
Today was haircut day. My boys love going because the place has cool cars to sit in, movies and games to watch and play, and best of all? A free skeeball and free throw machine, train table, and Legos (just to name a few) when they're done! We make a morning of it. I tend to Isaac as he struggles with the sound and feel of the "ticklers" (this is the fun name we've given to the hair clippers, hoping it will help ease his sensory issues). He's a champ, only getting figgity at the end. This boy deserves a treat, I tell him!
I decide to take the boys to Dunkin Donuts. I haven't had my coffee yet, and a coupon in my purse for a free one determines this to be the place. We never have donuts. They are a rarity. So, when we walk into the shop, the smell of fried bread covered with sugar hits our noses like a tidal wave of deliciousness. Isaac curiously eyes up the place...
Ethan opts for jelly filled, and Isaac, still unsure says, "I don't like it." As a mom...this is my dilemma. How do I consciously ENCOURAGE my child to eat a donut? Thinking out of the box...it's about trying something new, and for Isaac, it's a life lesson learned. So...I continue pushing the donut. He goes to sit at the table and I decide for him. 3 Munchin donuts rolled in powdered sugar will do the trick. I'm sure of it.
As we sit to partake, Isaac eyes up the bag with his treat inside. Ethan devours his jelly filled edible pillow of delight, and Isaac...well, this one holds the donut hole in his hand and loudly proclaims: "I LOVE WHITE MEATBALLS, MOM!"
Ethan and I burst out laughing and watch in both horror and pleasure as Isaac takes a savory bite...and another...and is wiping feverishly at the powdered sugar coating his little lips with delight...he wants another one, Mommy.
I can't always say we'll go to Dunkin Donuts more often. Because it wasn't about the "white meatballs." It was about trying something new. Enjoying a change. Savoring the moment.
Literally.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)