a new chapter
November 4, 2011 § Leave a comment
As I begin a new chapter in my family’s life I expect there are others with whom we share this journey that may find comfort, validation, or a sense of community in our experiences.
I have written briefly about my son’s diagnoses. Wise beyond his years he embraces his diagnoses publicly, but sees himself clearly without labels. In a world where he is forever trying to fit a round peg into a square hole, my son is content with his rounded edges. In fact, these very differences are so much of what I love about my son that it would be impossible to wish away his challenges.
Fast-forward from diagnoses to present day and you meet us at a new crossroad. My son is struggling in school and I have begun to realize he needs tools I cannot name. For all the books, conferences, magazines, and doctors I have sought guidance I am lost in the halls of academics. Recently, a moment of grace lead me to a woman who is patiently teaching me the language of advocating for my son’s education.
It is only the beginning, too early to share more than my location on a new path. But I want to mark this journey, celebrate a new milestone, and share my experiences as a mother navigating Special Education.
to my daughter
November 3, 2011 § Leave a comment
I see you watching attentively as we navigate new territory with your big brother. Your patience and love is a source of pride each day. When we struggle to balance the demands of the day, you find ways to bring happiness and celebration into our lives with simple sharings and acts of kindness. Your humor and wit breathe impulsive moments of joy amid moments of frustration. Thank you for the special gift of your presence in our days. Love, Mom
to my son
October 30, 2011 § Leave a comment
There are many moments over which my heart dwells. Tonight I pause to imagine a new future for you. We are in a strange place of transition. So much of what I have endeavored to do has been inspired by hope and good intentions, books and the advice of doctors. Tonight I spoke with a mother who shares my dreams and who’s children share your days. It is a new chapter in our journey together and I am so excited for the days ahead. Sleep tight, tomorrow is a new beginning. Love, Mom
alphabet soup
October 20, 2011 § Leave a comment
Motherhood has familiarized me with the flavor of over-served meals. I have eaten my own words, nose pinched, on multiple occasions. The mere suggestion of an emphatic statement and I anticipate the word du jour. Yesterday’s word was never.
At the beginning of the school year, in a grand proclamation, I stated I would never race back to school to gather my son’s misplaced homework. He would simply face the natural consequences of forgetting, thereby helping him remember in the future. Last night I ran back to school for my son’s school book. (This is where I would insert a footnote, dense with a beautifully constructed over-worded explanation to rationalize my decision.) Rather than offer excuses, I kick myself a little for talking out loud.
Today I am embracing silence.
accountability and humility
October 19, 2011 § Leave a comment
Recently I wrote about my son’s experience with a peer. In said instance my son was treated poorly by the peer at school, we addressed the incident with the school directly, and the school was both supportive and efficient in their efforts to control the situation. I was impressed, but quietly ill at ease. A part of me could not let go, feelings of discontent lingered. I questioned how the other child’s behavior was addressed and challenged his telling of the events with sarcastic disbelief in unspoken sentiments. To my son, I spoke only words of reassurance. I weighed my thoughts falsely projecting fairness, keeping my own negative emotions tucked away. The contradictory undercurrent left me feeling unkind and judgmental.
I forced myself to commit to repeating a mantra of positive posturing until the negative chorus was a quiet murmur. Over and over I said to myself: the other child made a mistake, mistakes are part of childhood, my son will endure this and learn from this moment. Be strong, but be forgiving. I was almost serene when my son came home and created a new ripple on calm waters.
My son made his own mistake. He did not harm another child, but he took something from a classroom. As the teacher’s telling unfolded, I felt my son’s mistake and stepped aside to make room for him to exercise accountability while I absorbed a moment of humility. My son moved beyond words and embraced accountability with action, owning his error and demonstrating remorse. A new thread of concern wrapped itself around my thoughts. Would others struggle to move past his error as I had struggled to let go of another child’s error?
I quickly realized these are moments in my son’s experiences outside of my control. Opportunities for him to grow, find his way, build character, and create new choices. As I was learning lessons in humility, accepting my son as imperfect and fallible; he was learning accountability in a safe and nurturing setting to be recalled at later moments in his life. I can no more undo his error than I can forge others’ opinions. The shoe on the other foot, we walked forward aware of the choices behind us and mindfully stepping into the future.
separately together
October 16, 2011 § Leave a comment
On a day unmarked on a calendar, sometime during my second pregnancy, my husband and I pledged to each spend time separately with our children. We wanted to carve out opportunities in a future yet unknown to gift each child individual time and attention. It is a promise we have kept and cherished.
This weekend my husband and daughter set off on a fall camping trip. The house is quiet without their laughter; mischievous and fun-loving they bring spontaneity and adventure to my days. Spending the weekend with my son, the quiet was reminiscent of days long past.
My earliest days of motherhood were spent neglecting countless household responsibilities, while marveling at the wonder of my tiny companion. I would read aloud from books beyond my son’s years or gather him near for a nap. This weekend, I am grateful that my son still finds his way to my side. Laughing at a movie, indulging in a ridiculous menu of favorite foods, and chatting about nothing in particular we have set aside our responsibilities for each other’s company.
Hours from now we will all be together again, but this morning I am reflecting on the promise my husband and I have kept. It is a joy to share our children’s company. It is an even greater blessing that they seek ours.
advocating strength
October 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
My son, head bowed, told me he was bullied… again. I ran through my initial emergency parenting protocol asking: Are you okay? Did you tell an adult? What happened? My heart in my throat I went through the motions of my end of school day routine while my son’s words replayed in my mind.
There is a small window of time between greeting my son at the end of his school day and collecting my daughter from hers. As I walked toward my daughter’s school my mind was riddled with questions. What now? Do I need more details? Who do I call? Do I wait for Monday?
The voice that makes me uncomfortable and holds me accountable was loud, casting away doubt and hesitation. I gathered my daughter from school, settled her at home with my husband, and then drove my son back to school.
Today is Friday and I had little hope that the school staff would greet me an hour after school had dismissed for the weekend, but they did. More importantly, they listened. I stood present as a witness for my son. I try to be my children’s advocate, but today I was humbled by my son’s fortitude.
Leaving the school my son tossed an arm around me and the same voice that screams when something is wrong, whispered that we will be alright. I write this to mark our family’s journey and to acknowledge my son’s strength.
good enough
October 14, 2011 § Leave a comment
The other day, as I faced my fear of confrontation, I watched another mother face fears of judgment. Her child had done something unkind, it was a singular mistake I felt needed to be addressed. The other mother apologized then added, he’s a good kid.
I would expect most of us have wanted to explain away poor behavior, defend our child, extol their virtues. Something deeper resonated within me; a fear of not being good enough.
I wish we could dismantle labels. The weight of carrying them everywhere is exhausting. Good wife, good mother, good housekeeper, good cook. Good grief! I wonder if the burden of similar labels suffocates our children from taking chances and risking failure to experience joy. What lessons do our children escape when they lose the opportunity to learn from mistakes? At what price must our children be good?
None of this is an excuse for unkind behavior. Just a series of thoughts that have accompanied me through the day. My heart rests on this thought,I wonder if sometimes it is enough to embrace the day and risk imperfection for the richness of experience. What is the defining difference between good and good enough?
walking the talk
October 13, 2011 § 2 Comments
I tell my children to stand up for themselves, but stood quietly in the background when uncomfortable with the idea of confrontation. Trusted friends nudged me out of my comfort zone. Sometimes the measure of a true friend is their willingness to tell you what you need to hear rather than what gives you comfort.
Recently both of my children have experienced a moment of unkindness with a peer that was presumably a friend. In each instance I told my children they deserved to be treated with respect, but did not model for them how we ask for respect with words and actions. I was all talk. Confiding in a friend, I was challenged to speak up and walk the talk.
I have since approached each parent of said children with wobbling knees and a pounding heart. Despite rehearsing in my mind what I would say, in each instance the script was forgotten in the moment. I held tightly to one message: this behavior is not acceptable.
It was uncomfortable; impossible as it was necessary. I was torn between my own hurt feelings and the other parents’ feelings. I imagined how I might feel if the roles were reversed. Mistakes are a part of growing up. Still, how do we help our children if their mistakes are sheltered and lessons lost? I hope my efforts help both my children and their peers learn and grow.
My children are unaware of my conversations, but I stand a little taller knowing I did more than talk the talk, I walked the talk.
class notes
October 10, 2011 § Leave a comment
My earliest writing memories are of class notes scribbled during school hours. In most classes my teachers’ lectures were monotonous monologues on the mundane. I would fill the spaces of my distraction with my own thoughts in the lines of letters to friends.
My children scribble thoughts and doodle with the same restless, creative energy that accompanied my classroom memories. My daughter draws her letters with flamboyant swirls and sketches whimsical images on the back of her school work. My son draws diagrams, makes lists, drafts petitions. Their school work is always completed, but with an effort lacking enthusiasm.
Where some parents have saved school papers cataloguing progress and academic effort from years past, I save the class work unrelated to assignments. These creative pen strokes are my glimpse into each child’s interests, friends, and dreams; in the margins of their work are beautiful examples of rich, unfiltered individuality.
scribblechic 