New Beginnings

Ah, the start of yet another school year. The frenzy of clothes shopping (shorts must be the proper length), big-kid tennis shoes (no, Mom, not Dora, she's for babies), backpacks and lunch kits. It never fails that year after year, as summer nears its end, the kids and I are ready for school to resume. Of course, by November we're generally pining away for the end of May. Go figure!

This school year has been a huge change for our family. Both kids are now in different schools: Paige has stayed in public school, while Seth has moved to a private one. It's never been any secret that Seth has ADHD and has really struggled through every year; this year, Clint and I wanted it to be different. I could sit here forever and list comparisons between the two schools, but it's enough to say that each child is now in an environment in which they are thriving.

Paige's reading continues to improve and she's now working with her favorite teacher again, Mrs. Connally. She's so proud when she can sound out the words and just soaks up the praise she receives. She bounds off the bus every afternoon and runs to greet her brother (Bubby, I misted you!) then plops down at the kitchen table, scarfs a snack and starts homework.

By this time, Seth and I've already been home for an hour and so far, his homework routine has gone just as smoothly. Each Monday, they have a spelling pretest; a grade of 95 or above gets you out of having to take it again on Friday. Allow me to boast when I say he's yet to take a Friday test!! His handwriting is definitely improving and he seems more patient with himself and others.

There are so many questions that run through my mind:
Is some maturity finally showing itself?
Is it that each kid is in their own school environment?
Will it last?

I'll admit, I'm probably one of the biggest pessimists ever, so it's really hard to see the good happening and not wonder when the other shoe will drop. The more I think about that, the more I realize that it robs the kids of the greatness they achieve each day and that simply isn't fair. Far better, to take things as they come, relish the wondrous, slog through the tough and come out the other side a better person and parent for doing so.

Both my kids prove to me every day that life does hand you lemons. One child will enjoy the lemon as it is...sour and shocking. The other will add a little water and sugar and enjoy the sweet. Neither way is wrong, just different. What will you do with the lemons life gives you?

Thanks....so much

I'd like to personally thank each family member, friend and stranger who's ever offered up the sage statement "It could be worse".

No shit! There's a teeter-totter effect in play here. I am grateful it's not cancer, a severe physical or mental handicap or any of those other horrors we imagine being visited upon someone else's child. On the other hand, I feel guilty for being grateful it isn't those things.

Here's our reality. He has ADHD, oppositional defiant disorder, sensory integration dysfunction and depression. He's our human bumper car, stone wall and prickly pear. He's the kid who bit himself up and down his arms as PUNISHMENT for flunking 3rd grade. Ever had your 9 year old say he just wants to die? I thought not.

So kindly refrain from lecturing me about "what's worse" and quit trying to cheer me up.

The Martians Have Landed!

I didn't quite know what to make of my particular situation yesterday afternoon.

Following our appointment, we swung by the local Sonic for a frozen treat when, out of the mouths of babes, came words so often forgotten in our house: "Thank you, Mom". I looked into the backseat...they looked like MY children, their voices were the same, but....using MANNERS!? They handed me their trash instead of dumping it into the floorboards as is so often the case and quietly and happily set to eating their sugary bounty. I responded with a faint "You're welcome" and drove on home trying to figure out who the backseat strangers were who'd replaced my two kiddos.

I just knew it would hit the fan when we got home. Imagine my surprise when it didn't.

My ritual is for the kids to make their beds and pick up their dump, I mean their rooms every afternoon. This is generally accompanied by great, heaving sighs and excessive eyeball rolling. Not so today. I could've eaten off the floor, no lie.

The two of them then sat down with numerous scrapbooks I've done over the years, Paige giving Seth her full attention as he read off each blurb accompanying the pictures. They sat there, heads bent together, as Seth shared memories of Paige as a baby. They hadn't been that sweet with one another since before Paige learned to talk. This strange behavior continued for the remainder of the evening.

This is what I imagined a sibling relationship would be like when I was growing up as an only child. It's all too much to hope for: good manners put into practice, loving words and gestures between sibs...clean rooms. I hope it lasts.

Do you see what I see?

I have a son named Seth. He's a student in your school, maybe in your class. But you don't know him.
He's the squirmy one. The one who can't keep his hands to himself. The talker, the instigator, the thoughtless comment maker. The one who makes his classmates cry. But you don't know him.
He's the boy with the sloppy handwriting. The one who's always in a hurry. The "underachiever". But you don't know him.
You look at him, but you don't SEE HIM. You see the things he does or those things he fails to do. You see every nit-picky, socially "unacceptable" trait he possesses...the wiggling, the zoned-out look of distraction, the irritation he causes his classmates. But you don't see HIM.
Sure, you call or email and encourage us to "talk to him". As if that will help. As if it's our mission to make your life easier. But we do it your way and for a while it works and your world is restored to order. And yet, you still don't know him or see him.
I'll tell you what you're missing. I see a sweet face. I hear a little boy voice coming from a growing boy body. I see a curious child. A creative child who has such a talent for drawing all sorts of things. I see a child who struggles to print legibly but whose cursive is beautiful. I see a brother who by turns will hug and cuddle or push and slap at his sister. I see a jokester and good-natured teaser. I see a taunter and yes, sometimes, a bully. I see an obsessive lover of books. I see a child so frustrated, to the point of tears, because he can't retrieve the data he needs from his ADHD brain.
I see him struggle and know in my heart that he gives everything he's capable of giving. How hard it must be to cope! I hear his quavering voice say "No one see me when I do something good". I do.
How sad your life must be to miss out on TRULY seeing and knowing this boy.
I see him.
I know him.
I love him.