laundry day
August 11, 2012 § Leave a comment
Despite my wish to gather every moment of sunshine for moments of whim and wonder, today is a day for practical activities. The sun teases me from the other side of the glass, but I bury my head a little deeper and move intentionally from corner to corner attempting to create calm from the chaos of dirty linens and cluttered piles of items waiting to be sorted another day, before school begins. Today is Another Day.
My children are sulking as they drift from task to play.
We are all a little out of sorts as we near the end of summer. To cast aside our responsibilities for a dramatic gesture of freedom would reaffirm the end is near. Instead we are denying the unavoidable; our gray moods pushing away the people we will miss the most come the first day back to school. Knowing this I am giving my children room to process their emotions, taking advantage of an indoor day to prepare our home for the routines of Fall and our minds for the unescapable truth that the end is nigh.
Gently, with small familiar tasks, I am reminding my children of the predictable moments, consistency between adventures. Life’s laundry days nestled between vacations.
finding my way
July 4, 2012 § Leave a comment
My journey through motherhood is freckled with occasions to second guess old choices. Hindsight often jests at my expense. Should’ves and would’ves, maybes and might haves pile up accusingly mocking my good intentions.
Reflecting on my decisions, sifting through reservations and regrets, I was reminded that my worries are not at all unusual. Parenting children with special needs my doubts are not dissimilar from parents of neurotypical children or those whose children live with physical disabilities or illness. We are an eclectic community of individuals nurturing uniquely beautiful children into a place of independent strength founded in unconditional love and confidence in their abilities.
Today as I count the paths unchosen, curious if I have overlooked a simpler journey, I am reminded of the lessons in love and resilience that have accompanied my errors. I carry my apologies alongside my hope and move forward towards the next bend in the road.
have children, will travel
June 14, 2012 § 2 Comments
In my earliest days as a mother I traveled lightly. I left toys and accessories behind embracing unforeseen distractions within new environments. I didn’t dwell on the decision, I made it casually.
As I prepared to visit my mother this past week I realized I had begun packing with the expectation that my children needed familiar comforts; I prepared for boredom and anticipated a need for entertainment. I am not certain when my packing patterns shifted, but conscious of this I committed myself to embracing the challenge of unpacking my assumptions. I began by removing gadgets from their travel bags, giving my children room to explore their environment in search of distractions.
Our first hurdle occurred early in the trip. At the airport gate a chorus of impatient How much longer? was interrupted by a curious toddler tugging at my children’s hands. Soon my children were peering at their surroundings from another perspective, all three children looking out the airport windows marveling at the planes and machinery, brightly colored luggage, and uniformed workers. The minutes passed in spontaneous play with a new friend; the waiting less weighted.
That same day settling in to my parent’s home I let go of needing to keep my children occupied and watched them drift to different corners of the house finding their own distractions. At twelve and seven years old they moved independently in the space safely and curiously, each child reintroducing themselves to old favorites while discovering new interests.
Our vacation days were simple, uncluttered by agendas. Rather than drive to distractions in search of something interesting we divided our days between the backyard and living room. Pool time and board games, books and blank drawing tablets captured my children’s imaginations.
Watching my children work through frustrations and seek out companionship or entertainment without my direction assured me we could vacation with less and gain more. We left behind expectations and uncovered a stronger awareness of ourselves, our surroundings, and each other.
jekyll & hyde
May 5, 2012 § Leave a comment
Dimpled smiles and sentimental gestures have been replaced with passive aggressive posturing; deep sighs, eye rolls, and argumentative mumblings. My mild-mannered Mr. Darcy has been transformed into a preteen tangle of emotions. Gone are the eloquent laments and generous demonstrations of gratitude; in its place is a temperamental curiosity that calls me Mom.
Jekyll reaches for my hand when we cross traffic and hugs me before leaving for school. Hyde rants that he needs more respect; bemoaning my high expectations. Jekyll says please and Hyde groans what. I comfort myself with the knowledge that these dramatic demonstrations of exaggerated irritation are exclamations of independence, but time has passed so quickly that it seems impossible to reconcile the reality of Hyde with the company of Jekyll. How quickly we have arrived at this place of adolescence.
I abhor the angst, but listen to Hyde’s litany of perceived transgressions against Jekyll’s pride. I cling to patience reaching for a connection that will bridge the space between moods. Hormones exaggerate emotions that underlie frustration; contentment challenging conflict with little cause. Hidden beneath my irritation there is humor; the endearing big brown eyes that roll so laboriously and the heartfelt sighs of injustice are delivered with preteen panache.
open mind, full heart
April 25, 2012 § 4 Comments
My day today began with a meeting, a discussion with a member of my daughter’s educational team who shares a special history with me. Six years ago we met across a large table in a formal meeting where several therapists and educators evaluated my son’s educational needs. This morning we met casually, seated at a much smaller table perched in child size chairs to discuss my daughter’s educational needs. We could have just as easily been old friends meeting for coffee and sharing stories about our children; her smile is a source of encouragement and humor.
Recently I watched a friend begin her own journey into the language of special needs in an elementary school setting. Her child’s challenges differ from my children’s, but my advice is simple: begin with an open mind. Even in moments of uncertainty and frustration, I try to open my mind to explore different perspectives. I listen, ask questions, and research to weigh my decisions. I also remember each of the professionals that work with my children have experience that lends me a wealth of knowledge.
I left the meeting today aware of a mutual respect and sense of friendship. The community of teachers, therapists, and administrators that I have come to know over the years have become an extension of our family. They offer kindness and guidance during difficult moments with the same genuine appreciation they applaud each of my children’s accomplishments. It is a partnership that extends beyond polite exchanges and paperwork. I see the faces of mothers and fathers that understand my role as a parent. I see friends eager to share a resource or a smile. In return I meet them with an open mind, ready to advocate for my children, and grateful for professionals passionate about their work.
questionable certainty
April 24, 2012 § Leave a comment
I have unintentionally began to schedule our summer. Two commitments anchor our time and I am hesitant to sacrifice lingering lazy days of serendipitous exploration to additional obligations. Even as I clutch tightly to unstructured time, I look over my shoulder at other mothers’ agendas questioning how much is too much and what is not enough?
I can broaden my uncertainty to encompass old decisions. Confident in a moment, doubt catches up with me stealing my resolve. Should I force my son to continue a particular sport? Should I insist my daughter explore other interests? Do I enforce expectations or nurture independent demonstrations of individual interests?
I know there isn’t a simple right or wrong answer. The bigger personal truth is that I mother my children from the trenches of my own comfort zone. I tell myself that I celebrate our unsystematic exploration of interests and resistance to conform to cookie cutter choices, but quietly unspoken doubts lead to second guessing. Am I forging a new path or limiting choices by overlooking other experiences?
I sometimes look to my peers, mothers whose calendars are filled with lessons and games, performances and competitions. I wonder if they have broken a code that creates a more well-balanced child. Doubt challenges my confidence.
Just as I embrace the possibility that I have done everything wrong, I look up and catch sight of my children playing. One child swinging contentedly while studying the clouds; the other curled over a treasure trove of small rocks. It is a simple life with simple joys. I tuck my doubts away for now, hopeful that in following my heart I have chosen wisely.
brick by brick
April 9, 2012 § 1 Comment
This weekend we began packing away the chaotic contents of our family LEGO room, noisy handfuls of bricks tumbled into large storage containers. As primary colored creations were contained from clutter into controlled chaos, memories filled the corners of my heart with gratitude for years of creativity and sharing.
Our children were the fortunate recipient of their father’s old LEGOs and my husband happily embraced a second childhood as both children discovered the joy of creating; the physical manifestation of a moment of inspiration. Lifting the weight of each bin, I wondered if I could measure their time together with these tiny building toys, one moment piled on top of another brick by brick.
Our toy room was a kaleidoscope of colorful shapes; kits and creations piled haphazardly and intentionally on flat surfaces and scattered across the floor. Packing away the remnants of this piece of our life was my children’s choice and I welcomed their decision to make room for a new experience. Still as we tucked away these well-loved toys for another generation I found myself pausing over various pieces, marveling at my children’s creations, and collecting memories for safekeeping brick by brick.
weeding flowers
April 2, 2012 § Leave a comment
Dandelions are popping up inside my home, generous bouquets bundled with love.
First my son appeared at our door having collected two handfuls between the bus stop and home. He eagerly extended one yellow bundle for me before asking if he might deliver the other to a friend. He preserved mine proudly in a small glass container at the center of my kitchen island, but not before he created a video documentary of one particularly beautiful dandelion on film.
Less than an hour later my daughter lamented our tragic landscape, void of the lovely yellow blossoms so generously sprinkled across our neighbors’ lawns. She embarked on a passionate journey to collect stems of sunshine to accent my store-bought, cut flowers indoors.
My daughter found an absence of sunshine in a sea of green and my son uncovered something extraordinary in a bouquet of sameness. I am weeding my definition of beauty and giving thanks for the blessing of a dandelion.
PostScript
March 2, 2012 § Leave a comment
Yesterday I wanted to capture a promise to my son and take ownership of a challenge. I try to teach my children that with each difficulty we make a choice as to whether we will be victims or victors.
This morning is cool and rainy; the sky is gray, but my heart is full of sunshine. My children are home today while their teachers work in empty classrooms. I am nesting to the sounds of my children playing, their company and running commentary a wonderful reminder of what matters most.
music of silence
February 18, 2012 § Leave a comment
In music a rest is an interval of silence. In life music rests in the quiet pauses between the business and noise of the day. Reflective moments of stillness, the quiet company of my children; togetherness void of distractions. Rest balances and centers us physically, emotionally, and mentally with restorative intervals of silence.
This past week my son’s emotions overflowed, splashing sloppily into moments of rest. So often I write these moments releasing them from my mind, examining them for pathways to comprehension and care. This week I sat present in my son’s unrest giving my son silence to match his crescendos of anxiety. I listened, questioned, witnessing his frustrations without endeavoring to preach words of wisdom, answer rhetorical questions, explain injustice, or solve perpetual problems. In the interval of silence I listened to my son’s song.
Carrying his words in the quiet space of my heart I welcomed my own silence. I set aside errands and busied my body with activities that were mindlessly repetitious in an effort to foster silence and stillness. I ran to calm my nerves and read to still my worries. I avoided writing uncertain how to capture my thoughts and content to let them settle like weightless flecks of dust momentarily caught by stray strands of sunlight as they landed soundlessly in the space of my day.
At week’s end my uncertainty clamors noisily against my peace, but I am listening to the day as it unfolds. Finding music in the silence.
scribblechic 