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.
Monday, August 19, 2013
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.
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