As always, so long between posts. It appears I need adversity to inspire me. I've had little of that lately. Nothing but gratitude and love, people!
Rowan is doing great in first grade so far. He loves his goofy teacher. He hates homework, but she has been so awesome about recognizing his strengths and allowing us to tailor homework to his needs. He had a short little hiccup of Awful Behavior at Home for a couple of weeks as he readjusted to being back in school, but that seems to have passed.
What I really want to write about is Aidan. That kid has always had such a spark. A spark of curiosity and such a love for learning. We were disappointed that that spark disappeared last year. Fourth grade was HARD for him. We loved his teacher, but I think the challenging kids in her class took a lot out of everyone.
I am so happy to report that his spark is back and then some. He comes home GUSHING about his day, his teacher, his BAND teacher, his instrument. I haven't had to ask him to do homework once. He loves to do it. Today, as we were leaving school, we saw his classroom teacher in the hall. He excitedly said hello to her. She said hi back. We walked a few more feet, and he looked back at her. He didn't notice me noticing, and I'm not sure she did either, but the look was love, awe, gratitude and wonder. Thank you for giving this back to my kid. I knew it was there all along.
Thursday, October 2, 2014
Monday, June 16, 2014
Whatever The Hell I Want (or not)
Well, I did it. I survived School Year From Hell. I know I should be thankful that I have a full time job, a great budget and so much stability, but, boy howdy people, this year tested me beyond my limits. I am so blessed that things were so great on the home front: Dan is getting a ton of work so financial stress has lessened, both Aidan and Rowan have had a great year, everyone stayed relatively healthy. (Spoiler alert: not for long.) I don't want to think what would've happened if I hadn't had the stability at home *shudders* - let's not go there. I returned to my family so many nights crabby, numb or usually in Zombie Mode. I am glad they still like me.
So here I am, at the starting line of summer. I explained to a friend that being a teacher during the first week of summer is like getting reacquainted with an old lover. It might be awkward, kind of fumbling around, getting to know each other again...not quite knowing how to proceed. Sleep schedules get messed up and you're not sure how to set them or even if you should. Lists and plans are made, disappointment ensues if things don't happen or meet your expectations of summers before.
I usually make a summer bucket list. I usually am bummed when I go back and look at it at the end of summer. So this year's summer bucket list includes two things:
1. Do whatever the hell I want. (Because I've earned that right.)
2. Roll with it. (Because you never know what it's going to hand you.)
Tuesday afternoon, as I left school for the year, I had a strong Badass Attitude vaguely surrounding the feelings of list option number one. I was ready to celebrate and party. We were going to the cabin, where I would SLEEP and having someone take care of me for a few days (which is what I really needed, thanks mommy.) After I brought Rowan to the doctor, of course, since he hadn't been feeling well for a few days. Diagnosis: strep. The other two boys in my house soon followed. Then they all developed a nasty head cold of top of it. Cabin plans cancelled, and I spent five days, avoiding my family while taking care of them (I mastered doing both at the same time somehow,) begrudgingly staring list option number two in the eye. (I may have given it an obscene finger gesture a couple of times.) I know how many days a person can spend taking care of three whiny sick people with wanderlust in her heart before she snaps. And that many days is five.
Today the sun is shining, and I get a do-over. I will thank the sunshine that I remained healthy through that stint. I will plunge my hands into the dirt. I will pack a picnic. I will let the breeze tie knots in my hair. I will toughen up the soles of my feet. I might put my toes in the sand.
A nod to summer. To doing whatever the hell I want. To rolling with it. To do-overs.
So here I am, at the starting line of summer. I explained to a friend that being a teacher during the first week of summer is like getting reacquainted with an old lover. It might be awkward, kind of fumbling around, getting to know each other again...not quite knowing how to proceed. Sleep schedules get messed up and you're not sure how to set them or even if you should. Lists and plans are made, disappointment ensues if things don't happen or meet your expectations of summers before.
I usually make a summer bucket list. I usually am bummed when I go back and look at it at the end of summer. So this year's summer bucket list includes two things:
1. Do whatever the hell I want. (Because I've earned that right.)
2. Roll with it. (Because you never know what it's going to hand you.)
Tuesday afternoon, as I left school for the year, I had a strong Badass Attitude vaguely surrounding the feelings of list option number one. I was ready to celebrate and party. We were going to the cabin, where I would SLEEP and having someone take care of me for a few days (which is what I really needed, thanks mommy.) After I brought Rowan to the doctor, of course, since he hadn't been feeling well for a few days. Diagnosis: strep. The other two boys in my house soon followed. Then they all developed a nasty head cold of top of it. Cabin plans cancelled, and I spent five days, avoiding my family while taking care of them (I mastered doing both at the same time somehow,) begrudgingly staring list option number two in the eye. (I may have given it an obscene finger gesture a couple of times.) I know how many days a person can spend taking care of three whiny sick people with wanderlust in her heart before she snaps. And that many days is five.
Today the sun is shining, and I get a do-over. I will thank the sunshine that I remained healthy through that stint. I will plunge my hands into the dirt. I will pack a picnic. I will let the breeze tie knots in my hair. I will toughen up the soles of my feet. I might put my toes in the sand.
A nod to summer. To doing whatever the hell I want. To rolling with it. To do-overs.
Sunday, May 4, 2014
They Are Watching....
It's been a week, people. I've tried, I really have, but this positivity thing? Well, it's HARD. Stress level is high, insomnia is unrelenting, workload is unmanageable, schedule is full, and this weather...today we finally saw the sun for the first time in 435,988 days, I think. I went into a weird place of survival in my head this week. Numb, I guess. I don't remember most of it, and that's with taking a day off in the middle of the week to nurse a nasty eye infection. I am beyond exhausted and keeping my chin up and my head above water and all those other metaphors are really hard work.
As is my pattern, I take this out on those I love. Thursday, unfortunately, it was Aidan. I stayed after school to try to catch up, knowing he had chess club. What I didn't know was that he had a tournament (read: later than usual.) I had to get Rowan to swimming lessons (read: his last session, where he gets his "report card.") Somewhere in there I had to get food in them. I ran around til 5:30 and scratched the surface of my work load. I finally cut him off at 5:40, and actually he had just lost. He was crushed. I tried to be sympathetic, but was secretly relieved to be able to go. On the way home, I found out that I had switched the kids lunches and neither of them had eaten the "main course" of their lunch: dinner problem solved! (Another symptom of this week: can't get my shit together.) But when we got home there was the letting out of the dog, and the "I have to poops," and the finding of the swimsuit, and I can't remember what it was, but I snapped at Aidan, "WHY haven't you eaten yet??? We have to GO in 5 minutes!!" He had some valid excuse, but I watched myself, out of body experience, roll my eyes and give a big hissy fit of a sigh. As I did it, I thought, "Well there goes my MOTY award." and "No wonder he gives me sass, here comes a dose right now that I FULLY deserve, cause he learned it by watching me." But he stayed calm, apologized and starting eating. I got all teary and apologized too. He said, "It's okay, Mom, I get it. I've been there. I can see that you are stressed out."
Geez, I don't deserve these guys sometimes.
We got to swimming on time, by the way. And Rowan passed his current level. And I really don't think Aidan is scarred for life. But I am now counting down the days....
As is my pattern, I take this out on those I love. Thursday, unfortunately, it was Aidan. I stayed after school to try to catch up, knowing he had chess club. What I didn't know was that he had a tournament (read: later than usual.) I had to get Rowan to swimming lessons (read: his last session, where he gets his "report card.") Somewhere in there I had to get food in them. I ran around til 5:30 and scratched the surface of my work load. I finally cut him off at 5:40, and actually he had just lost. He was crushed. I tried to be sympathetic, but was secretly relieved to be able to go. On the way home, I found out that I had switched the kids lunches and neither of them had eaten the "main course" of their lunch: dinner problem solved! (Another symptom of this week: can't get my shit together.) But when we got home there was the letting out of the dog, and the "I have to poops," and the finding of the swimsuit, and I can't remember what it was, but I snapped at Aidan, "WHY haven't you eaten yet??? We have to GO in 5 minutes!!" He had some valid excuse, but I watched myself, out of body experience, roll my eyes and give a big hissy fit of a sigh. As I did it, I thought, "Well there goes my MOTY award." and "No wonder he gives me sass, here comes a dose right now that I FULLY deserve, cause he learned it by watching me." But he stayed calm, apologized and starting eating. I got all teary and apologized too. He said, "It's okay, Mom, I get it. I've been there. I can see that you are stressed out."
Geez, I don't deserve these guys sometimes.
We got to swimming on time, by the way. And Rowan passed his current level. And I really don't think Aidan is scarred for life. But I am now counting down the days....
Saturday, April 12, 2014
I Choose....
New Years comes at the wrong time of year for me. I find it hard to reflect and renew in the middle of winter, even with the proximity of the solstice. Spring is my time. I find myself turning both inward and outward at the same time, reflecting on the past year and looking ahead. This seems to be more intense this year, I think due to the Winter of Our Discontent, as I will respectfully call it.
I write freely about the successes of this past year: Rowan making strides, a family vacation, the funny stuff. This year has been good to us in so many ways, but definitely had its own challenges. Most of these came in the form of financial stress and work. No doubt, my workplace was a "do more with less" kind of environment this year. Many days, I would come home barely able to function on a basic level for my family. I probably drink more wine than I should. I tackle insomnia nightly.
Why am I confessing this now? Seven weeks. Aidan counted. Seven weeks left in this school year. It usually is a wild, hang on to your hat time of year, but I sense it is going to be crazier than usual. I am filled with a mix of emotions - a "double dip" feeling as a friend of mine would say. It feels EXACTLY like being at the top of a very big hill on a roller coaster: exhilaration, dread, fear, anxiety, excitement. I realize I am at a point of choosing which of these emotions to embrace. This may not seem as easy as it sounds. Along with the challenging environment has come a good share of negativity, negativity that I admittedly have gotten sucked in to.
I am nearing the end of our spring break, and two days ago, experienced that sort of stomach-drops-out-of-you dread. I really forced myself to look at the "why" of the feeling. I was able to hold my chin up as I talked myself through it for two reasons: I've made it this far, what's seven more weeks? And...some really solid accomplishments, perhaps under appreciated by Those I Wish Would Notice And Care, but I am very proud: new lessons tried and succeeded, presenting at the AEM conference, participants in art shows, winners in art contests, Empty Bowl, leaps and bounds in my use of technology this year. It seems that somehow in my just barely keeping my head above water, I swam farther than I thought. So on this eve before the eve before The Return, I am making a choice. I choose celebration. I choose fun. I choose positivity. I know I'll be tested and The Ride might get scary, but in the end, summer will come and before you know it I'll be packing up and letting it go, faster than I can imagine.
I write freely about the successes of this past year: Rowan making strides, a family vacation, the funny stuff. This year has been good to us in so many ways, but definitely had its own challenges. Most of these came in the form of financial stress and work. No doubt, my workplace was a "do more with less" kind of environment this year. Many days, I would come home barely able to function on a basic level for my family. I probably drink more wine than I should. I tackle insomnia nightly.
Why am I confessing this now? Seven weeks. Aidan counted. Seven weeks left in this school year. It usually is a wild, hang on to your hat time of year, but I sense it is going to be crazier than usual. I am filled with a mix of emotions - a "double dip" feeling as a friend of mine would say. It feels EXACTLY like being at the top of a very big hill on a roller coaster: exhilaration, dread, fear, anxiety, excitement. I realize I am at a point of choosing which of these emotions to embrace. This may not seem as easy as it sounds. Along with the challenging environment has come a good share of negativity, negativity that I admittedly have gotten sucked in to.
I am nearing the end of our spring break, and two days ago, experienced that sort of stomach-drops-out-of-you dread. I really forced myself to look at the "why" of the feeling. I was able to hold my chin up as I talked myself through it for two reasons: I've made it this far, what's seven more weeks? And...some really solid accomplishments, perhaps under appreciated by Those I Wish Would Notice And Care, but I am very proud: new lessons tried and succeeded, presenting at the AEM conference, participants in art shows, winners in art contests, Empty Bowl, leaps and bounds in my use of technology this year. It seems that somehow in my just barely keeping my head above water, I swam farther than I thought. So on this eve before the eve before The Return, I am making a choice. I choose celebration. I choose fun. I choose positivity. I know I'll be tested and The Ride might get scary, but in the end, summer will come and before you know it I'll be packing up and letting it go, faster than I can imagine.
Monday, April 7, 2014
Keep On Keepin' On
So, as usual, long time no blog. That is usually a good thing! Nothing much to blog about except that our little flower keeps blossoming. The setbacks and struggles I anticipated for Kindergarten just don't exist. Here I am staring the end of the school year in the face and I still just need someone to pinch me.
Fall conferences came and went with the news that he was fitting in great, making friends, participating, high level reading group, blah blah blah...wait, what? High level reading group? I knew the kid could read, but only because he's been busted reading words off signs and such, not because he had ever read a word TO me. I was commended for "working with him" on all the sight words, because he knew them all. (Yeah, I never worked with him.) Mister sneaky Pete, doing all that secret downloading without letting me know. We got a similar report this winter. Meanwhile our family took our first long vacation via plane with no issues. We survived Winter from Hell. I am so proud and relieved.
I still see the quirks, but I doubt many other people do. He appears "shy" but I know it's sensory. He gets "stuck" on things, but is more easily "unstuck" than he used to be, and his fixations are more appropriate and allow for flexibility (right now it's Star Wars and space.) He tolerates sound, but has this amazing sense of smell and pronounces his olfactory observations loudly and specifically: "Mom, it smells like tacos and mud in here!" The only behavior hiccup we had at school was a couple months ago with the potty talk and him trying to set other kids off. A consultation with Lynnie and advising his teachers to immediately remove him from the group if he even starts nipped that in the bud.
He's even taken another big step forward in his maturity and being "out there" to others. Reports from adults at school that he is interacting with them more (smiles, talking, joking around.) A car trip last weekend, he got hungry and I stupidly forgot to pack snacks, perhaps shutting the years of "hangry" meltdowns out of my head. When I informed him we didn't have any his answer was "okay." WHAT??? We went to MOA and he ate HOT food with a FORK. (Both these things are miraculous. I mean, really miraculous.) He was talking and laughing with strangers. We went to the Disney store and went to Mecca...I mean, the Star Wars section, and he never bugged me to buy him anything. Plus the fact that everything that comes out of his mouth is so darn stinkin' cute right now...
Can I push the pause button on him, please? Though, really, I am starting to worry less and look forward more...
I'm going to change the focus of this blog to being less about raising a child with SPD to just plain old fun Fitzpatrick Adventures. Aidan and Rowan do continue to inspire and teach me, and will ALWAYS be my greatest teachers in life, through both the good and the bad. I recently realized if I don't start being more intentionally present with them, *poof* they will be gone before I know it. They are growing up WAY too fast. Look forward to more adventures soon!
Fall conferences came and went with the news that he was fitting in great, making friends, participating, high level reading group, blah blah blah...wait, what? High level reading group? I knew the kid could read, but only because he's been busted reading words off signs and such, not because he had ever read a word TO me. I was commended for "working with him" on all the sight words, because he knew them all. (Yeah, I never worked with him.) Mister sneaky Pete, doing all that secret downloading without letting me know. We got a similar report this winter. Meanwhile our family took our first long vacation via plane with no issues. We survived Winter from Hell. I am so proud and relieved.
I still see the quirks, but I doubt many other people do. He appears "shy" but I know it's sensory. He gets "stuck" on things, but is more easily "unstuck" than he used to be, and his fixations are more appropriate and allow for flexibility (right now it's Star Wars and space.) He tolerates sound, but has this amazing sense of smell and pronounces his olfactory observations loudly and specifically: "Mom, it smells like tacos and mud in here!" The only behavior hiccup we had at school was a couple months ago with the potty talk and him trying to set other kids off. A consultation with Lynnie and advising his teachers to immediately remove him from the group if he even starts nipped that in the bud.
He's even taken another big step forward in his maturity and being "out there" to others. Reports from adults at school that he is interacting with them more (smiles, talking, joking around.) A car trip last weekend, he got hungry and I stupidly forgot to pack snacks, perhaps shutting the years of "hangry" meltdowns out of my head. When I informed him we didn't have any his answer was "okay." WHAT??? We went to MOA and he ate HOT food with a FORK. (Both these things are miraculous. I mean, really miraculous.) He was talking and laughing with strangers. We went to the Disney store and went to Mecca...I mean, the Star Wars section, and he never bugged me to buy him anything. Plus the fact that everything that comes out of his mouth is so darn stinkin' cute right now...
Can I push the pause button on him, please? Though, really, I am starting to worry less and look forward more...
I'm going to change the focus of this blog to being less about raising a child with SPD to just plain old fun Fitzpatrick Adventures. Aidan and Rowan do continue to inspire and teach me, and will ALWAYS be my greatest teachers in life, through both the good and the bad. I recently realized if I don't start being more intentionally present with them, *poof* they will be gone before I know it. They are growing up WAY too fast. Look forward to more adventures soon!
Sunday, October 6, 2013
You Think You Know a Guy....
This guy.
I don't even know what to say.
The stress over kindergarten has been mounting for two+ years. It would keep me up at night, wondering: will he make friends, will he listen, is he capable of sitting still, will he even TALK to his teachers?
And then the first day of school came, and with it the Scariest Moment Ever (for me): dropping him off in his classroom for the first time. Another kid was in tears, clinging to his mom. It didn't bode well. We found Rowan's spot, put on his name tag and looked at each other. "Now what do I do?" he asked. "It looks like you can play with these pattern blocks that are at the table, buddy." "Okay." Then a huge realization washed over me: he is not anxious, sad or scared in any way. He wasn't even thinking about saying goodbye. I sat there for a moment, dumbfounded, awkward silence as my kid just turned this Scary Moment into a non-event. "Um, well, okay then. I guess I'll go." "Okay," he replied. A quick hug and a kiss and he never even watched me leave.
Fast forward to three hours later, and his teacher walks into my classroom. Oh shit, I think, this can't be good. She beams at me. "I just want you to know, he does not stand out to me as different from any of the other kids. He is happy, playing with the others, participating and talking to me." My knees buckled. Disbelief, relief, but still a bit of anxiety. Honeymoon period, I think, It won't last.
Rewind to six weeks before school starts. "Are you excited for kindergarten?" I ask. "Yes," he says, "But I WON'T sing."
Fast forward to three weeks into school. Mrs. K, his music teacher, informs me he SANG in music. He also was spotted dancing. Later that week, he sings a completely made up song to me. This is the first time he has sung to me. EVER. That same week, reports are the same all around: following rules, sitting still, listening, participating, making friends. I still live in a state of disbelief.
Fast forward to four weeks into school. At lunchtime, in the lounge, I happen to sit with the para who works in his room. She tells me about an afternoon on the playground, where Rowan has climbed to the top of the fireman pole, a skill he set out to master this summer at Lynnie's. Apparently, a few kids noticed and made a Big Deal about it. He did it again, a few minutes later, with ALL the kids watching. Later that week, I sit with him for 5 minutes at lunch. The kiddo sitting across from me exclaims, while pointing at my son, "THAT kid is a REALLY good climber!" Rowan beams.
Fast forward to last week. I am directed to go observe some primary classes to learn some transition techniques, specifically Rowan's teacher. I go in to watch. I see it first hand: my son, who I worried about, cried about, lost sleep over is sitting attentively, raising his hand, participating, following directions, clip at the top of the rainbow chart. I ask his teacher later, "Is is always sitting that still and attentive?" She looks right at me, "Always," she says with conviction.
So here we are, close to a quarter of the way into the year, at a place I never imagined we would be. And if we were in this place, I figured we would have had to work MUCH harder at it than we have. And I still sit in a state of suspended disbelief. (And the teachers at North Star must think I am a crackpot, for all the warnings I gave them.) What's bugging me the most is what a hard time I am having of accepting that it all seems like it's going to be okay. I was thinking para, IEP, behavior interventions, 504 plans...and we aren't even close.
Proud, relieved. Those words don't even come close to describing how I feel as I accept this Happy Place for my child. A sense of accomplishment, for all the interventions, strategies and services paid off. Lynnie, Lynnie, Lynnie....I give you SO much credit, for making my child know how to be a human being, and helping him and me figure out where and how he fits in the world. I live in the midst of a miracle and am overwhelmed with gratititude.
 |
| In addition to owning the kindergarten experience, this guy pulled an entire wagon load of groceries home by himself. |
I don't even know what to say.
The stress over kindergarten has been mounting for two+ years. It would keep me up at night, wondering: will he make friends, will he listen, is he capable of sitting still, will he even TALK to his teachers?
And then the first day of school came, and with it the Scariest Moment Ever (for me): dropping him off in his classroom for the first time. Another kid was in tears, clinging to his mom. It didn't bode well. We found Rowan's spot, put on his name tag and looked at each other. "Now what do I do?" he asked. "It looks like you can play with these pattern blocks that are at the table, buddy." "Okay." Then a huge realization washed over me: he is not anxious, sad or scared in any way. He wasn't even thinking about saying goodbye. I sat there for a moment, dumbfounded, awkward silence as my kid just turned this Scary Moment into a non-event. "Um, well, okay then. I guess I'll go." "Okay," he replied. A quick hug and a kiss and he never even watched me leave.
Fast forward to three hours later, and his teacher walks into my classroom. Oh shit, I think, this can't be good. She beams at me. "I just want you to know, he does not stand out to me as different from any of the other kids. He is happy, playing with the others, participating and talking to me." My knees buckled. Disbelief, relief, but still a bit of anxiety. Honeymoon period, I think, It won't last.
Rewind to six weeks before school starts. "Are you excited for kindergarten?" I ask. "Yes," he says, "But I WON'T sing."
Fast forward to three weeks into school. Mrs. K, his music teacher, informs me he SANG in music. He also was spotted dancing. Later that week, he sings a completely made up song to me. This is the first time he has sung to me. EVER. That same week, reports are the same all around: following rules, sitting still, listening, participating, making friends. I still live in a state of disbelief.
Fast forward to four weeks into school. At lunchtime, in the lounge, I happen to sit with the para who works in his room. She tells me about an afternoon on the playground, where Rowan has climbed to the top of the fireman pole, a skill he set out to master this summer at Lynnie's. Apparently, a few kids noticed and made a Big Deal about it. He did it again, a few minutes later, with ALL the kids watching. Later that week, I sit with him for 5 minutes at lunch. The kiddo sitting across from me exclaims, while pointing at my son, "THAT kid is a REALLY good climber!" Rowan beams.
Fast forward to last week. I am directed to go observe some primary classes to learn some transition techniques, specifically Rowan's teacher. I go in to watch. I see it first hand: my son, who I worried about, cried about, lost sleep over is sitting attentively, raising his hand, participating, following directions, clip at the top of the rainbow chart. I ask his teacher later, "Is is always sitting that still and attentive?" She looks right at me, "Always," she says with conviction.
So here we are, close to a quarter of the way into the year, at a place I never imagined we would be. And if we were in this place, I figured we would have had to work MUCH harder at it than we have. And I still sit in a state of suspended disbelief. (And the teachers at North Star must think I am a crackpot, for all the warnings I gave them.) What's bugging me the most is what a hard time I am having of accepting that it all seems like it's going to be okay. I was thinking para, IEP, behavior interventions, 504 plans...and we aren't even close.
Proud, relieved. Those words don't even come close to describing how I feel as I accept this Happy Place for my child. A sense of accomplishment, for all the interventions, strategies and services paid off. Lynnie, Lynnie, Lynnie....I give you SO much credit, for making my child know how to be a human being, and helping him and me figure out where and how he fits in the world. I live in the midst of a miracle and am overwhelmed with gratititude.
Monday, August 26, 2013
The Ride
So, this is happening.
This kid. Kindergarten.
I don't even know how to feel about this. Since I noticed his quirkiness, and got a name for it back when he was two, I feel like I've been on a roller coaster ride that leads up to this point. I know the ride isn't going to end, of course, but I feel so much weight put on this year ahead. Like this is what I've been working toward: the Big Test. I am simultaneously proud, excited, anxious, nervous, sad, weepy, terrified, confused, grateful and sick to my stomach all at the same time.
I'm gonna keep hanging on for the ride. The progress is always forward, and there is no stopping us now.
But, geez, little guy, could you stop growing up so fast??
Monday, August 19, 2013
How To Survive Your Last Day of Summer Vacation
1. Sleep in, but not too late. You don't want to kick yourself for wasting your day later.
2. Don't make a list. Don't make plans. You will disappoint yourself later if they don't get completed. That way, if your friend suggests a second glass of wine at lunch, you can say "Why not?'
3. DO NOT go to the mall. (Though a second glass of wine at lunch seems to take the edge off.)
4. Play the It's My Last Day Of Summer Break Card. This may get you lunch out with a friend, a day off of cooking/dishes, etc.
5. Get the things you HAVE to get done, done right away. Such as cleaning out your teacher bag from last year and putting in the new post it notes and planner. You'll never know what treasures you'll find! (That lost DVD, handwritten/drawn thank you notes from first graders that read: "Dear Ms. Fix, I will miss you.")
6. Exercise. Zumba your ass off. In air conditioning.
7. Negate the exercise by treating yourself to a pity cone at Super Premium Ice Cream. Pass it off as an excuse to cool off the poor kids. Really, it is for me, people. For ME.
8. Soak up the last bits of summer. The morning raspberry picking ritual. The muggy air. The breeze. The sunshine on your face. The moon. Hold on to every last bit.
9. Try to find the piece of paper that was sent last June (JUNE! I mean, come ON) that tells you where you're supposed to be and when tomorrow. If you are unsuccessful shrug and assume 8:00.
10. Remember you are not going back to some "ordeal." This is your job, and you are good at it. You are not having surgery, you are not moving, you are not on trial. Imagine a moment last year, fifth grade maybe, where magic was happening around you. Great art was being made, creativity and excitement all around you. Remember why you do it, and why you always go back.
*sigh* I will miss you though, summer.
2. Don't make a list. Don't make plans. You will disappoint yourself later if they don't get completed. That way, if your friend suggests a second glass of wine at lunch, you can say "Why not?'
3. DO NOT go to the mall. (Though a second glass of wine at lunch seems to take the edge off.)
4. Play the It's My Last Day Of Summer Break Card. This may get you lunch out with a friend, a day off of cooking/dishes, etc.
5. Get the things you HAVE to get done, done right away. Such as cleaning out your teacher bag from last year and putting in the new post it notes and planner. You'll never know what treasures you'll find! (That lost DVD, handwritten/drawn thank you notes from first graders that read: "Dear Ms. Fix, I will miss you.")
6. Exercise. Zumba your ass off. In air conditioning.
7. Negate the exercise by treating yourself to a pity cone at Super Premium Ice Cream. Pass it off as an excuse to cool off the poor kids. Really, it is for me, people. For ME.
8. Soak up the last bits of summer. The morning raspberry picking ritual. The muggy air. The breeze. The sunshine on your face. The moon. Hold on to every last bit.
9. Try to find the piece of paper that was sent last June (JUNE! I mean, come ON) that tells you where you're supposed to be and when tomorrow. If you are unsuccessful shrug and assume 8:00.
10. Remember you are not going back to some "ordeal." This is your job, and you are good at it. You are not having surgery, you are not moving, you are not on trial. Imagine a moment last year, fifth grade maybe, where magic was happening around you. Great art was being made, creativity and excitement all around you. Remember why you do it, and why you always go back.
*sigh* I will miss you though, summer.
Trip Log: Vacation, Summer 2013
This blog post is brought to you by Wisconsin State Parks, where you are welcome to bring your dog. Oh, but once you're here you can't actually bring him anywhere. Like the beach. Or on hiking trails. Or places you go when you are in STATE PARKS.
Day 1: Arrival at Copper Falls State Park
Weather: 73 degrees, sunny, with one small sun shower.
Critter count: Multiple tiny frogs, the first named Gilbert. An owl symphony during the night.
Number of hours Rowan spent in the water: 2
Number of fish caught: 0
What we did: Arrived and explored the park, swam at the beach, serenaded by Aidan on guitar. Reveled at my amazing packing ability. Those years of playing tetris in high school paid off.
Quote of the Day: (Rowan) "Dad, do police kill mosquitoes?"
Day 2: Copper Falls again
And finally, I leave you with a video, which really captures the essence of what it is like to camp with these two children. Make sure the sound is turned up and you listen all the way to the end to hear what Rowan has to say. Enjoy.
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| This dog is the poster child for the experience YOUR dog will have in Wisconsin State Parks. Sorry, buddy, thanks for being such a good sport!!! |
Day 1: Arrival at Copper Falls State Park
Weather: 73 degrees, sunny, with one small sun shower.
Critter count: Multiple tiny frogs, the first named Gilbert. An owl symphony during the night.
Number of hours Rowan spent in the water: 2
Number of fish caught: 0
What we did: Arrived and explored the park, swam at the beach, serenaded by Aidan on guitar. Reveled at my amazing packing ability. Those years of playing tetris in high school paid off.
Quote of the Day: (Rowan) "Dad, do police kill mosquitoes?"
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| Rowan and his micro-frog |
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| Beach at Loon Lake |
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| Aidan and his micro-frog |
Weather: 73 degrees, sunny, with one big shower of rain. COLD at night!
Critter count: A woodpecker, a herd of deer and a possible sasquatch encounter. I mean really people, we heard the weirdest noises coming out of the woods by the beach, so we drove down the road to explore what it might be. There was a bigfoot crossing sign tacked to a power pole, I kid you not. This, of course, sent Rowie into excited question mode about the "monster" that made the noise. Dan explained the sign was just a joke. My response was a cocked eyebrow and, "Or, is it?"
Number of hours Rowan spent in the water: 1.5
Number of fish caught: 0
What we did: Explored and hiked the falls, moved campsites, celebrated our 13th anniversary with ice cream cones and cheese curds (we ARE in Wisconsin!) from the gak stand at Copper Falls, both of us grown ups went for a jog, went for a quick swim, had Thanksgiving leftovers for dinner, which you usually can't say you did while camping, had a fire.
Quote of the Day: Dan" "Rowan, what's your favorite thing about camping?" Rowan: "Swimming"
Dan: "What's your second favorite?" Rowan: "Sleeping."
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| Hike to the Falls |
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| Anniversary Cone N Curds |
Day 3:Copper Falls State Park, again
Weather: 73 degrees, according to the thermometer. But really, 90 in the sun 37 in the shade. Which makes it really hard to decide where to put your camp chair on the beach. So then you do this funny little dance of shuffling your chair back and forth, putting your sweatshirt on, taking it off, etc.
Critter count: two cute widdle baby fawns
Number of hours Rowan spent in the water: 5
Number of fish caught: 0, but not for lack of trying
What we did: We split up, Dan and Aidan hiking to go find fish, Rowan and I camping out at the beach. The boys never made it down to the river, as steep slopes down would not have allowed our gimpy geriatric dog to get back up the embankment. They had a great hike though. Rowan and I lazed and swam. We had another fire and ate s'mores.
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| Too steep for Murphy |
Day 4: Off to the Island!!
Weather: 75 and perfection
Critter count: Owls, who again performed for us all night. Blueberries. Behind our campsite. They count, right? They were wild.
Number of hours Rowan spent in the water: 1
Number of fish caught: 0
What we did: Observed a miracle: BOTH boys slept late, which allowed us to pack everything except for the clothes they were wearing, the sleeping bags they were in, and the tent around them without interruption or whining. It was glorious. We drove to Bayfield, played at the park/picnicked, and took the ferry over to Madeline Island, explored the beach at the State Park. Without our dog. Again. (See, brought to you by...)
Quote of the day: Me: (While pointing out my lack of a razor.) "Yep, I am rockin' the French pits."
Day 5: We Love Madeline Island
Weather: 75 and perfection, again.
Critter count: two naughty red squirrels who were openly shouting profanities in front of my children, some ducks.
Number of hours Rowan spent in the water: 3
Number of fish caught: 1 perch
What we did: Hiked along the lake, saw the Lake Superior Water Sprite and his tribal dance, drove over to the Town Park beach where dogs ARE allowed, thank you very much. Aidan and Dan rented a canoe to fish in the Lagoon. Drove into town to experience Tom's Burned Down Bar and to eat real food. Met a fellow Jeffersonian (lives 1 block away from us) while at Tom's. Ate burgers and drank beer while the boys played with the ducks in front of the restaurant. Got up with Aidan at 2 a.m. and walked down to the beach to see the stars/persieid meteor showers.
Quote of the Day: Rowan (at lakeside restaurant) "Can I take off my clothes and go swimming?"
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| The Lake Superior Water Sprite performs his tribal dance |
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| Finally, a beach for me!! |
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| Aidan at Tom's |
Day 6: Minnesota Goodbye
Weather: 77ish and perfection.
Critter count: 0
Number of hours Rowan spent in the water: 6
Number of fish caught: 0 caught, one bonded with in the Lagoon
What we did: Decided the island wanted to hold on to us for as long as possible, so we broke camp, went back to the town park, and stayed there til 4:30. Caught the 5:00 ferry and headed home. :(
Quote of the Day: Rowan: "I want to go swim in the La-ga-goon."
And finally, I leave you with a video, which really captures the essence of what it is like to camp with these two children. Make sure the sound is turned up and you listen all the way to the end to hear what Rowan has to say. Enjoy.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Let Them Bake Cake
Let me preface this post by letting you know how often I fret about Aidan. How his brother's quirkiness affects him. I know it stresses him out sometimes. I know often, like me, he needs a break. He craves a little more calm, less provocation. Just remember that keeps me up at night sometimes.
So, on this beautiful summer evening, our CSA share arrived. I LOVE that wooden crate of goodness. As one of the first deliveries, it was a bit slim, but was bursting with the most beautiful red strawberries I have ever seen. And in the bottom of the crate: rhubarb. I cracked open the newsletter after dinner and saw that Jason's (one of our farmers) grandmother Donna had passed away. Included in the newsletter were two of her recipes. I wasn't sure I had enough rhubarb to make one of the recipes (we split the share with our beloved Lynnie) so I chopped the rhubarb up to see how much we had: 2 1/2 cups, exactly the amount needed for Grandma Donna's Rhubarb Cake.
Rowan was in the other room, so when Aidan asked to help with the cake (just us) I thought that was fair, as Rowan had helped make dinner. (Man I hope these boys continue to love to work in the kitchen, cuz the chicks are gonna DIG them.) We started baking away, when Rowan wandered in, wanting to help too. I could see Aidan tense up - Rowan's recent wanting to be a part of EVERYTHING in the world is MUCH harder for him than the Rowan who perseverated in the corner. He started to fight, I started to threaten that NO one was helping, and pretty soon, there the three of us were, making cake peacefully together.
We got to the part where you have to run the mixer for several minutes, and I had no idea how to handle that, as Rowan wanted to help, yet also wanted his ears covered. I was about to go for the headphones, when Aidan figured it out, and somehow silently made an agreement with Rowan of how it would work. So here's what we did: Aidan would run the mixer, I added ingredients with one hand while assisting with the other, I would grab the mixer, Aidan would cover Rowan's ears so they could use the mixer, and I would continue to assist. When it was Aidan's turn again, I would take the mixer, Rowan would cover his ears, and then Aidan would take over again. We switched off about 6 times seamlessly. And while it may have looked like a circus act to some fly on the wall, it was perfection to me. Turns out Rowan is one of Aidan's greatest teachers too. And I get to eat rhubarb cake, so everybody wins.
So, on this beautiful summer evening, our CSA share arrived. I LOVE that wooden crate of goodness. As one of the first deliveries, it was a bit slim, but was bursting with the most beautiful red strawberries I have ever seen. And in the bottom of the crate: rhubarb. I cracked open the newsletter after dinner and saw that Jason's (one of our farmers) grandmother Donna had passed away. Included in the newsletter were two of her recipes. I wasn't sure I had enough rhubarb to make one of the recipes (we split the share with our beloved Lynnie) so I chopped the rhubarb up to see how much we had: 2 1/2 cups, exactly the amount needed for Grandma Donna's Rhubarb Cake.
Rowan was in the other room, so when Aidan asked to help with the cake (just us) I thought that was fair, as Rowan had helped make dinner. (Man I hope these boys continue to love to work in the kitchen, cuz the chicks are gonna DIG them.) We started baking away, when Rowan wandered in, wanting to help too. I could see Aidan tense up - Rowan's recent wanting to be a part of EVERYTHING in the world is MUCH harder for him than the Rowan who perseverated in the corner. He started to fight, I started to threaten that NO one was helping, and pretty soon, there the three of us were, making cake peacefully together.
We got to the part where you have to run the mixer for several minutes, and I had no idea how to handle that, as Rowan wanted to help, yet also wanted his ears covered. I was about to go for the headphones, when Aidan figured it out, and somehow silently made an agreement with Rowan of how it would work. So here's what we did: Aidan would run the mixer, I added ingredients with one hand while assisting with the other, I would grab the mixer, Aidan would cover Rowan's ears so they could use the mixer, and I would continue to assist. When it was Aidan's turn again, I would take the mixer, Rowan would cover his ears, and then Aidan would take over again. We switched off about 6 times seamlessly. And while it may have looked like a circus act to some fly on the wall, it was perfection to me. Turns out Rowan is one of Aidan's greatest teachers too. And I get to eat rhubarb cake, so everybody wins.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Exactly Where I Am Supposed To Be
....aaaand it has arrived. The beloved last day of school (with kids)!!!
Cue tears. And dread. And anxiety. And...wait, what? What is WRONG with me? Have I forgotten how to feel? And then it hits me, like a group of first graders on a Friday with a full moon and indoor recess. Oh. Yeah. I don't have to be sad, or anxious, or full of dread.
Two years, people. Two years in the same school. Clear sailing, great end of the year review, no sign of going anywhere, back next year. Two years probably doesn't seem like that big of an accomplishment to most people, especially for a teacher who's been out there for 10 years, but to your "lowly" (read: teacher who has the first program to be cut) specialist in Duluth, MN, this is a BIG deal.I've got art teacher friends in this town teaching for 5+ more years than me facing a future without a job right now. And here I am, not packing boxes (which I did once with a six week old baby strapped to the front of me 3 days before school started,) no uncertainty, no anxiety, no hard decisions. I have stepped off the wheel of laid off, rehired at the last minute, laid off, rehired at the last minute, laid off, long term sub, para, now what? Just me, and my room, and cleaning it up, and ordering supplies, and wishes, hopes and ideas already brewing for next year. I had this gift last year, but this year it feel so much more real. Anticlimactic in a way, but I guess this is what stability feels like. And I am grateful, grateful, grateful. Is my job hard? Yep. Is it stressful? You betcha. Am I exhausted? Oh, yes sir. But I knew what I signed up for. And every morning, I get to get up, give the gift of art to kids, have them give it back to me, and get up and do it again the next day. And I get to do it again next year.
And I remember being so pissed off every time it happened. Why? Why me? Hurt, that God or the Universe would keep doing this to me every year. Only to wake up on June 6, 2013, to find myself happy, content, pretty much complacent on the last day of school, exactly where I am supposed to be. Because I always was.
Cue tears. And dread. And anxiety. And...wait, what? What is WRONG with me? Have I forgotten how to feel? And then it hits me, like a group of first graders on a Friday with a full moon and indoor recess. Oh. Yeah. I don't have to be sad, or anxious, or full of dread.
Two years, people. Two years in the same school. Clear sailing, great end of the year review, no sign of going anywhere, back next year. Two years probably doesn't seem like that big of an accomplishment to most people, especially for a teacher who's been out there for 10 years, but to your "lowly" (read: teacher who has the first program to be cut) specialist in Duluth, MN, this is a BIG deal.I've got art teacher friends in this town teaching for 5+ more years than me facing a future without a job right now. And here I am, not packing boxes (which I did once with a six week old baby strapped to the front of me 3 days before school started,) no uncertainty, no anxiety, no hard decisions. I have stepped off the wheel of laid off, rehired at the last minute, laid off, rehired at the last minute, laid off, long term sub, para, now what? Just me, and my room, and cleaning it up, and ordering supplies, and wishes, hopes and ideas already brewing for next year. I had this gift last year, but this year it feel so much more real. Anticlimactic in a way, but I guess this is what stability feels like. And I am grateful, grateful, grateful. Is my job hard? Yep. Is it stressful? You betcha. Am I exhausted? Oh, yes sir. But I knew what I signed up for. And every morning, I get to get up, give the gift of art to kids, have them give it back to me, and get up and do it again the next day. And I get to do it again next year.
And I remember being so pissed off every time it happened. Why? Why me? Hurt, that God or the Universe would keep doing this to me every year. Only to wake up on June 6, 2013, to find myself happy, content, pretty much complacent on the last day of school, exactly where I am supposed to be. Because I always was.
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
The Nonnie and Boppometer and The Moment My Clock Stopped
Our beloved Nonnie and Boppa have returned from their three month stint Florida! Actually, they've been back for a few weeks, but the snowiest April in the history of Duluth had plans for us that did not include driving on backcountry roads.
This last weekend we drove out to see them for a much needed relaxing weekend. They were a sight for sore eyes, and there was a TON of hugging to make up for lost time, especially between Rowan and Nonnie.
We'd been there for a few hours when my Dad looked at me questioningly, gestured at Rowan and inquired, "So....is this how he behaves now?" I was taken aback for a second...I didn't quite know what he meant. Was he insinuating that Rowan was being a pain? Gosh, I thought he'd been pretty good...I mean, I had just asked him to pick up his toys and he listened. The FIRST time. My NINE year old doesn't do that. "Uh...yes," I answered. "Wow!" he said, "That's incredible! He's like a totally different kid!" Then I had this funny realization wash over me. About what a difference three months can make. Those of us who spend every day with Rowan haven't really noticed how amazing this latest emergence has been, as it's been so gradual, but so steady. Nonnie and Boppa were the perfect barometer. Nonnie and Boppometer.
Apparently my father went on and on to my mother several times over the weekend about how great Rowan is doing. How fun to stand back and look at him through their eyes. To look at my witty, creative, conversational, agreeable, flexible, outgoing and confident little boy. Every day, feeling more and more like it's going to be okay. Like some day I will be telling a successful young man about what a pill he was as a child, with a laugh and a wave of my hand.
++++++++++++
Winter finally left Duluth, at least for a few days.
Dan and Rowan went down to Bayfront Park on Monday, a gorgeous sunny spring day. Rowan rode his bike (with training wheels...we'll get there) ALL the way there (about an hour for him - 10-15 for an adult). We'd made an agreement that Aidan and I would come to the park after school, where Aidan could play for a bit and then I'd drive everyone home.
We got there and had an amazing Golden Moment. My hubby and I got to cuddle up on a bench, bracing against the nippy Lake Superior wind that had suddenly come up, and felt like we didn't have a care in the world. The boys are finally at an age where they can play so independently, and Aidan is so good at helping his brother. Oh man, THIS is what I have been waiting for. I wanted to press pause.
Especially since, during our golden moment, a family with much younger children passed by. Their 15-19 monthish child was crying because he didn't want to be put down. When he finally agreed, he spent most of his time running in front of fast moving swings, his parents scrambling after him
. His nose was snotty. His diaper looked full. His parents looked exhausted. And then I heard it, the ticking of my biological clock coming to a screeching halt. It finally just got easy, and all I want to do is breathe a sigh of relief and look forward. And go back to the park NEXT Monday.
This last weekend we drove out to see them for a much needed relaxing weekend. They were a sight for sore eyes, and there was a TON of hugging to make up for lost time, especially between Rowan and Nonnie.
We'd been there for a few hours when my Dad looked at me questioningly, gestured at Rowan and inquired, "So....is this how he behaves now?" I was taken aback for a second...I didn't quite know what he meant. Was he insinuating that Rowan was being a pain? Gosh, I thought he'd been pretty good...I mean, I had just asked him to pick up his toys and he listened. The FIRST time. My NINE year old doesn't do that. "Uh...yes," I answered. "Wow!" he said, "That's incredible! He's like a totally different kid!" Then I had this funny realization wash over me. About what a difference three months can make. Those of us who spend every day with Rowan haven't really noticed how amazing this latest emergence has been, as it's been so gradual, but so steady. Nonnie and Boppa were the perfect barometer. Nonnie and Boppometer.
Apparently my father went on and on to my mother several times over the weekend about how great Rowan is doing. How fun to stand back and look at him through their eyes. To look at my witty, creative, conversational, agreeable, flexible, outgoing and confident little boy. Every day, feeling more and more like it's going to be okay. Like some day I will be telling a successful young man about what a pill he was as a child, with a laugh and a wave of my hand.
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| Nonnie and Boppa on Rowie's calendar. "That makes me so happy!" |
++++++++++++
Winter finally left Duluth, at least for a few days.
Dan and Rowan went down to Bayfront Park on Monday, a gorgeous sunny spring day. Rowan rode his bike (with training wheels...we'll get there) ALL the way there (about an hour for him - 10-15 for an adult). We'd made an agreement that Aidan and I would come to the park after school, where Aidan could play for a bit and then I'd drive everyone home.
We got there and had an amazing Golden Moment. My hubby and I got to cuddle up on a bench, bracing against the nippy Lake Superior wind that had suddenly come up, and felt like we didn't have a care in the world. The boys are finally at an age where they can play so independently, and Aidan is so good at helping his brother. Oh man, THIS is what I have been waiting for. I wanted to press pause.
Especially since, during our golden moment, a family with much younger children passed by. Their 15-19 monthish child was crying because he didn't want to be put down. When he finally agreed, he spent most of his time running in front of fast moving swings, his parents scrambling after him
. His nose was snotty. His diaper looked full. His parents looked exhausted. And then I heard it, the ticking of my biological clock coming to a screeching halt. It finally just got easy, and all I want to do is breathe a sigh of relief and look forward. And go back to the park NEXT Monday.
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| Not the park, but a day from the Snowiest April |
Monday, February 18, 2013
The Good Kind
I seem to have a funny little blogging pattern. Rowan goes up, I blog. Rowan goes back down, I blog. I guess really there is not such thing as in-between times so that makes sense.
I do have to say, though, this little guy, is a wonder kid.
His latest "download" came through with some pretty amazing things. It was perfect timing because I was starting to lay awake at night worrying about the K-word. I don't want to say it, because Lynnie will read this and be sad. You know what I mean, though. Starts with a K, ends with a N and in the middle is indergarte. I worried about the social part, I worried about the making friends part, I worried about the not being able to write his name part, I worried about the not being able to stick with a task without getting uber frustrated part. And then, voila, poof, abracadabra - there's a normally functioning (yes, quirky, but look at his parents) five year old. He goes on play dates, he sat perfectly through the dentist checkup, he went CROSS COUNTRY SKIING where he fell down several times with a "that's okay!"
And then, there's this:
(That is a picture of Murphy!)
Oh, and there is this:
His latest "download" came through with some pretty amazing things. It was perfect timing because I was starting to lay awake at night worrying about the K-word. I don't want to say it, because Lynnie will read this and be sad. You know what I mean, though. Starts with a K, ends with a N and in the middle is indergarte. I worried about the social part, I worried about the making friends part, I worried about the not being able to write his name part, I worried about the not being able to stick with a task without getting uber frustrated part. And then, voila, poof, abracadabra - there's a normally functioning (yes, quirky, but look at his parents) five year old. He goes on play dates, he sat perfectly through the dentist checkup, he went CROSS COUNTRY SKIING where he fell down several times with a "that's okay!"
And then, there's this:
Oh, and there is this:
(That is a perfectly written name.)
Not to mention, this:
(That's not one, but TWO teeth gone! A full year ahead of when Aidan lost his, proving again, that this kid will do things according to HIS own schedule)
So fears for next year? Yeah, still a few, but less and less as time goes by. This kid has a sudden perseverance that he didn't have before. He wants to figure things out, and dammit, he will try and try and practice until he gets it. It is a beautiful thing. I DO have a tentative meeting with the person in charge of getting kids put on 504 plans but I keep putting it off, because well...see above. The kid just keeps on keepin' on and continues to surprise me with where he lands.
Last week at school I asked a couple of the K teachers for a copy of the sight words so we can get Rowie working on them now. They were excited and didn't know I had a kiddo entering school next year. They started to fight over him. I said, "Uh, ladies, you might want to meet him before you fight over him." They pooh-poohed me, and one pointed to the other and said, "She gets all the nice parents and kids, I get the crazy parents. You're not a crazy parent!" It happened to be "beach day" at school and I had the props to go with it. I replied, "I have been carrying around a rubber dolphin all day, you do realize that, don't you?" She replied, "Yes! That's the good kind of crazy!"
The good kind of crazy. I wouldn't have it any other way.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Blissfully Exhausting
Wow, holy blog neglect. Whoops.
Short synopsis of the last three months: Me= job is going awesome, in the best shape of my life, sleeping well, mentally balanced. Dan= business picking up, enjoying being stay at home Dad a couple of days a week. Aidan= perfect transition into a new school, rockin' out on guitar, making new friends. Rowan = ups and downs but forward progress, still enjoying Lynnie's and speech at SRC, currently downstairs with a friend who is over for a playdate and they are loudly discussing farts. So, in other words, Life is Good.
Rowan went through a pretty rough summer, followed by what felt like a week of relief, followed by another downswing. Every time this happens, the longer it lasts, the darker things feel. There are periods where I feel like we all go to that dark place: Dan and I are short with each other, my patience is limited, I feel like Aidan isn't getting what he needs from us, and it feels like living with an overly sensitive grizzly bear. The light at the end of the tunnel is that we know it's usually a sign that he is working through something. Whether it is regulating his hearing sensitivity, using words, asking questions, answering questions...it is like the sun shining extra brightly when he finally works his way through the latest neurological battle. My friend, Erin put it really well: he's downloading.
This last week, the darkness has lifted and the sun is indeed shining brightly again it seems. The thing I've noticed this time is that Rowan has been craving my attention. The last few months, he has been working at getting my attention in awful ways: screaming, causing trouble on purpose, pushing buttons, making noises, saying inappropriate things. No matter what consequence we threw at him, he was relentless. It was draining. This week, however, something shifted. He is still craving my attention, but in such an APPROPRIATE way. I think I have heard, "Mamma, look at me" 1,289,752 times in the last three days, 1,278,997 of those today while Christmas shopping. And with it, these really deep five year old questions. And I mean, enough of them to make up for about a year's worth of lost time. "What does a sigh mean?" "Do skeletons live inside your body? Can they live outside your body?" "Does God live at church?" "Why? Why? Why?" And today, in the bookstore/toystore, as I got called over to look at him or something he wanted me to see that million and a quarter times, I got a raised eyebrow from the clerk. I wanted to run over, shake her by the shoulders and yell, "I KNOW!! Isn't he GREAT??? LISTEN to that BEAUTIFUL sound of actual, real, appropriate attention getting measures being used by my son. Don't you LOVE IT????!!!!!" Then I would dance a polka. I restrained myself though, and gave her a big smile and gave in to the requests of my amazing, beautiful, smart and inquisitive son.
Short synopsis of the last three months: Me= job is going awesome, in the best shape of my life, sleeping well, mentally balanced. Dan= business picking up, enjoying being stay at home Dad a couple of days a week. Aidan= perfect transition into a new school, rockin' out on guitar, making new friends. Rowan = ups and downs but forward progress, still enjoying Lynnie's and speech at SRC, currently downstairs with a friend who is over for a playdate and they are loudly discussing farts. So, in other words, Life is Good.
Rowan went through a pretty rough summer, followed by what felt like a week of relief, followed by another downswing. Every time this happens, the longer it lasts, the darker things feel. There are periods where I feel like we all go to that dark place: Dan and I are short with each other, my patience is limited, I feel like Aidan isn't getting what he needs from us, and it feels like living with an overly sensitive grizzly bear. The light at the end of the tunnel is that we know it's usually a sign that he is working through something. Whether it is regulating his hearing sensitivity, using words, asking questions, answering questions...it is like the sun shining extra brightly when he finally works his way through the latest neurological battle. My friend, Erin put it really well: he's downloading.
This last week, the darkness has lifted and the sun is indeed shining brightly again it seems. The thing I've noticed this time is that Rowan has been craving my attention. The last few months, he has been working at getting my attention in awful ways: screaming, causing trouble on purpose, pushing buttons, making noises, saying inappropriate things. No matter what consequence we threw at him, he was relentless. It was draining. This week, however, something shifted. He is still craving my attention, but in such an APPROPRIATE way. I think I have heard, "Mamma, look at me" 1,289,752 times in the last three days, 1,278,997 of those today while Christmas shopping. And with it, these really deep five year old questions. And I mean, enough of them to make up for about a year's worth of lost time. "What does a sigh mean?" "Do skeletons live inside your body? Can they live outside your body?" "Does God live at church?" "Why? Why? Why?" And today, in the bookstore/toystore, as I got called over to look at him or something he wanted me to see that million and a quarter times, I got a raised eyebrow from the clerk. I wanted to run over, shake her by the shoulders and yell, "I KNOW!! Isn't he GREAT??? LISTEN to that BEAUTIFUL sound of actual, real, appropriate attention getting measures being used by my son. Don't you LOVE IT????!!!!!" Then I would dance a polka. I restrained myself though, and gave her a big smile and gave in to the requests of my amazing, beautiful, smart and inquisitive son.
Sunday, September 30, 2012
Kickin' It
I had to share some photos of Rowan's soccer experience. Yes, I said soccer. An organized, TEAM sport, where he had to listen to his coach and work with his peers. I came up with the idea last spring, my husband thought I was crazy, Rowan's preschool teacher thought I was a genius. I went with the opinion of the person who had more experience (sorry, honey.)
I am happy to say it was not a disaster. While Rowan was not the strongest player on his team, he generally listened to the coach and interacted with his peers. Though I don't think the coach ever heard him say a single word in two months. His playing was funny. He just stood there the first game, until I encouraged him a little more, then he started to get in there. One game he actually kicked the ball TEN whole times. The next game he got spooked by some aggressive players and then for the rest of the season became very crafty at running away from the ball while somehow making it look like he was running with the group. It was hilarious.
My favorite moment, however, was during the first game. He'd had one practice, and we had drilled it in to his head: no hands, no hands, no hands. At one point during the game, the ball went out of bounds. The coach chose Rowan to throw it back in. Rowan just stared at him, unresponsive. The coach waited a minute, then chose another kid. A couple of minutes later, Rowan ran over to me and whispered, "He wanted me to touch the ball with my hands!" So...yeah, we had to review that one exception.
I am so proud of my little guy!
I am happy to say it was not a disaster. While Rowan was not the strongest player on his team, he generally listened to the coach and interacted with his peers. Though I don't think the coach ever heard him say a single word in two months. His playing was funny. He just stood there the first game, until I encouraged him a little more, then he started to get in there. One game he actually kicked the ball TEN whole times. The next game he got spooked by some aggressive players and then for the rest of the season became very crafty at running away from the ball while somehow making it look like he was running with the group. It was hilarious.
My favorite moment, however, was during the first game. He'd had one practice, and we had drilled it in to his head: no hands, no hands, no hands. At one point during the game, the ball went out of bounds. The coach chose Rowan to throw it back in. Rowan just stared at him, unresponsive. The coach waited a minute, then chose another kid. A couple of minutes later, Rowan ran over to me and whispered, "He wanted me to touch the ball with my hands!" So...yeah, we had to review that one exception.
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| Proud brother, looking on |
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| Kicking. Not at the ball, but kicking anyway. |
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| Running fast! |
Saturday, August 18, 2012
Well-lived
Well, it's that time of year again.
Summer is turning its back on me, fast-walking away, I am running after it with my arms outstretched, yelling, "Noooooooooo!" I keep glancing over my shoulder at the New School Year Anxiety, which is in turn chasing me.
I always get very "nesty" this time of year. I have to stay busy, get my space in order, or I will start to think too much. Yesterday afternoon was one of those days. Yes, I was getting ready for Aidan's birthday party, but once those preparations were done I couldn't stop. I cleaned that one corner in the porch. I organized the downstairs freezer (zucchini from 2006, anyone?). I made refrigerator pickles. I cleaned out the car. Finally, as I ran out of tasks, I jumped on my bike. Just me and the Lakewalk, no one else, no destination in mind.
I tooled along on this pleasant PDD (Perfect Duluth Day) when suddenly my bike, seemingly by its own accord, pulled over to the side of the pathway. I found myself staring down at a little secluded beach I'd never noticed before. The water, crystal clear and almost Caribbean blue, was calling me. There was a footpath down.
Next thing I knew, I was floating on my back in Lake Superior in my underwear. How long had it been since I did something so spontaneous, on my own like that? I suppressed a scream of glee.
Instead, I reflected on a summer well lived. Wow, was this summer good to me. The combination of having no real scheduled job and the amazing weather created a perfect storm of living in the moment goodness. Every morning I woke up and felt the potential for a new adventure. I lived it fully. Anxiety about the new school year aside, I know I am going into the year in a really good place in my head. My tank is full, I am re-energized, and mostly I am full of gratitude for the gift of this lovely, lovely summer.
I started out this summer with a list. Did I complete it all? No. Do I regret it? Not a chance. Sewing projects? Too beautiful outside. Visit every playground in Duluth? Not even close, but I have a new definition of playground that includes Park Point, French River and a perfect evening in the backyard with the neighbors and their kids. I did so many unexpected things that weren't on the list, including a midnight hay ride at a wedding, tubing behind a boat with Edison friends and even working a fun little summer job.
Here are my favorite pics from this summer:
Summer is turning its back on me, fast-walking away, I am running after it with my arms outstretched, yelling, "Noooooooooo!" I keep glancing over my shoulder at the New School Year Anxiety, which is in turn chasing me.
I always get very "nesty" this time of year. I have to stay busy, get my space in order, or I will start to think too much. Yesterday afternoon was one of those days. Yes, I was getting ready for Aidan's birthday party, but once those preparations were done I couldn't stop. I cleaned that one corner in the porch. I organized the downstairs freezer (zucchini from 2006, anyone?). I made refrigerator pickles. I cleaned out the car. Finally, as I ran out of tasks, I jumped on my bike. Just me and the Lakewalk, no one else, no destination in mind.
I tooled along on this pleasant PDD (Perfect Duluth Day) when suddenly my bike, seemingly by its own accord, pulled over to the side of the pathway. I found myself staring down at a little secluded beach I'd never noticed before. The water, crystal clear and almost Caribbean blue, was calling me. There was a footpath down.
Next thing I knew, I was floating on my back in Lake Superior in my underwear. How long had it been since I did something so spontaneous, on my own like that? I suppressed a scream of glee.
Instead, I reflected on a summer well lived. Wow, was this summer good to me. The combination of having no real scheduled job and the amazing weather created a perfect storm of living in the moment goodness. Every morning I woke up and felt the potential for a new adventure. I lived it fully. Anxiety about the new school year aside, I know I am going into the year in a really good place in my head. My tank is full, I am re-energized, and mostly I am full of gratitude for the gift of this lovely, lovely summer.
I started out this summer with a list. Did I complete it all? No. Do I regret it? Not a chance. Sewing projects? Too beautiful outside. Visit every playground in Duluth? Not even close, but I have a new definition of playground that includes Park Point, French River and a perfect evening in the backyard with the neighbors and their kids. I did so many unexpected things that weren't on the list, including a midnight hay ride at a wedding, tubing behind a boat with Edison friends and even working a fun little summer job.
Here are my favorite pics from this summer:
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| Pontooning with Boppa |
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| One of many fish caught this summer |
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| Morning cuteness |
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| The Flood |
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| More Flood |
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| Rhubarbra |
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| French River |
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| Sign cake |
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| Bravery on wheels |
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| Indian Lake |
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| Frog catcher |
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| Summerblue |
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| Happy campers |
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| Harry Potter around the campfire |
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| Aboard the Vista |
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| Agent P |
Not pictured: Fourth of July with the DeWitt-Websters, above mentioned hay ride, many days at the beach/river, making jam, the lush garden, time spent with Corryn & Carrie, the satisfied look on my face after each day.
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