Full Circle

I have been writing this post in my mind for months. I just haven’t felt inspired to sit at the computer and put it out there. Today, as I drink my morning coffee, I feel that I have to get this out of my head so I can think clearly.

Every year, around this time, this feeling of dread creeps its way into the pit of my stomach and a lump in my throat wells up without warning at the mere thought of the first day of school. I used to love the idea of the beginning of a new school year. Note that I said the idea. Shopping for new supplies, new shoes, new clothes, and the promise of fall and all its midwestern beauty and crispness. The smell of fresh paint and the shine of clean floors, with tanned, relaxed teachers quick feet moving about preparing and excited to engage their students.  That idea is really nice. The trouble is, that idea and all that excitement only lasts for about three days for Wolfie and then reality sets in.

School is hard. Being social is hard. The reality is, kids entering third grade are also embarking on a mean phase. They aren’t trying to be mean so much as they are trying to find their place in the social hierarchy and the trouble with that is lots of people get trampled on the way up. Here is a story from when I was in second grade. Granted, I am a girl and girls do things differently than boys, but both my boys gravitate toward girls so the anecdote seems appropriate.

I had just started a new school in second grade and had only a few acquaintances from Brownies. I was struggling also academically and had the sneaking suspicion that I was just dumb. I couldn’t seem to “get” anything the teachers were trying to teach me. Then there were the other girls. They were horrible. Not all of them, of course, but the ones that I had it in my mind were the ones to make friends with were not nice. They approached me after a while saying that I could be one of them if I were to pass a series of tests. I took the tests, which involved taking things that belonged to other students, attempting to balance standing on two legs of a chair, delivering notes to boys and other things like that. It was horrible and somewhere in my head I had decided that I couldn’t completely become one of them, but I needed to fit in to be safe. The line of social acceptance and being nice to others is a very thin one and one that I sometimes crossed, but I tried and was mostly successful at navigating the shark-y social waters.

If I were a boy with Asperger’s I would have fallen on my face. There is no question. I would have been so confused and unable to keep up with all the nuances of the social games. I was in pain a lot of the time and I understood pretty much of what was going on. As stupid as it all was, I got it. Wolfie doesn’t get it at all. He is hurt and confused most of the time when he is around kids his same age. As I said, he enjoys playing mostly with girls and they are all turning on him. He doesn’t understand why. He says they are mean, and I know that isn’t the case. They are acting mean, but they aren’t mean kids. They are competing socially and are desperate to find their place. Unfortunately for Wolfie, that place isn’t next to him.

This is a reality that I am okay with. I love my nerdy little guy. He is smart, funny, and full of brilliant ideas. He does everything with gusto and is built like an overgrown puppy, all floppy with big hands and feet. One look at him and my heart gushes with love and the desire to protect him and all that makes him who he is. I see though, how he is fraying at the edges. There is a rawness there that is exposed and becoming sensitive and if it doesn’t heal, it will fester and become angry.

These social games that kids play, I fear, is the thing that will rub him completely raw. People have said to me, “He’ll find his way,” and “He just needs to connect with someone else like him.” I agree, I just don’t think the public school is the place where he will number 1, find his way, or number 2, make a connection with someone else like him. There is no one else like him and the few kids that share his quirky nature, the school has done a brilliant job of separating them so that there is little interaction. This is done, of course, because it is easier for the teacher.

I am in school to become a teacher and it is through my studies and watching both Wolfie and Hammy in school that I have come to the realization that schools are too big, too crowded, too bureaucratic and too rules oriented to reach the potential of my children. I would venture to say these schools can’t help reach any childs potential, but that is a much bigger idea for this little post. I know my children, and this environment is not for them. There are many, many great things about the school they attend. The teachers are wonderful and have tried their best to know my kids and do right by them. But as I have experienced first hand and as I am learning now in school, the teachers hands are tied in many ways. They cannot control the size of their classrooms nor can they give full individual attention or instruction to each child as they might like. Also, teachers are beginning to have to teach the students just to pass the standardized tests, which in my mind couldn’t be more uninspired. Then on top of all the academic responsibilities, teachers have the job to help students become responsible social beings. Where is the time for that?

I have had more than enough time this summer to watch firsthand how Wolfie attempts to make friends and get involved with other kids. He is a very social person and seeks out people to play with and share things with. He is gregarious in his approach and is mostly very polite. The trouble is he is eight years old, he looks like he is 11  and he is very direct. He has no trouble walking up to a family, introducing himself which involves sharing his name and age and then asking the other child who, at that point has completely lost interest if they are his age, for his name. Most of the time, they don’t respond or if they do it is because they are forced to by their parents. Wolfie doesn’t see this quiet brush off for what it is and will continue to try new ways to engage the other child. Asking questions, acting silly, or just inserting himself into whatever activity the other child is doing until finally the other kid says something mean. This is when Wolfie goes into what I call adult mode. He will parrot those phrases that have been directed at him when he is not so nice by other adults. “You aren’t being very nice” or “That is unacceptable behavior” or “That was very unexpected, could you try that again.” It is funny after the fact, sort of. But in the moment, it is the saddest thing I have ever seen because these little outbursts seal Wolfie’s fate to never be friends with this child. He ends up confused and angry.

At some point, you reach a breaking point. There is a threshold we all have for rejection and for every person that threshold is different. One of the gifts of Asperger’s for Wolfie has been this sort of social aloofness that prevented him from realizing when people were rejecting him. There was a long period of time where he seemed insulated from the hurt of that rejection. That time has definitely ended. He is hurt, and he is raw.

So, we are considering homeschooling….again. The pieces are falling into place and it seems that this option is the one that has the greatest potential for Wolfie to thrive. I am not sure about Hammy. There are a lot of ideas rattling around my head. Maybe I finish my degree while homeschooling and we start a small school. Maybe we home school Wolfie this year and test a few things out and then bring Hammy into the mix when I have more confidence. Maybe we jump in feet first and see what we see. Maybe we explore some private school options again. I feel the weight of this decision, but at the same time I feel refreshed by the idea of choice. So often, the choices get stuffed out of sight by the expectation of the norm.

I remember when Wolfie was born and I had the hopefulness of a new mother, all excited and full of creative ideas about parenting. We talked about homeschooling then and how the idea of parents as teachers seemed like such a natural and viable approach. Somehow that idea was derailed. Hammy was born, I was overwhelmed by motherhood and  by the energy of my children. I don’t know now if homeschooling is the right choice, but I get the feeling there will be regrets if we stick to the path we are on now.  

I have always used the word cyclical when describing the behaviors, habits, and interests of my children. Their interests change as do their behaviors and habits, and then the cycle starts all over again. Here we are back at the beginning. I feel like a new mother, with new challenges and a fresh perspective. Even though it feels somewhat scary, it is exhilarating to be here again.

Welcome Back

I went through a funk at the beginning of this school year and finally,  the air is starting to clear. It’s just that with both kids in school all day I had no idea what I wanted to do with myself. Actually, looking back, I knew what I really wanted to do, I just didn’t know how to start or if I could and so that negated the dream for a while.

I want to be a teacher. I want to help foster creativity and growth in little people, the way that so many have done for my children. My children have been lucky enough to have such wonderful people teach them every day and when I volunteer in their classrooms, which I do weekly, I find myself watching the way that their teachers interact with the kids and it’s like a lightbulb for me every time. That is what I want to do when I grow up.

I had been quietly researching going back to school for quite a while and was coming up uninspired and, frankly, a little scared. There is so much going on in our lives, with Eliot’s business and work schedule and the kid’s school and after school activities. When would I have time to go back to school? How would I pay for school?

Online university. This is what Eliot said to me when I told him my dream of being a teacher, followed by all the reasons I couldn’t do it. I love this about him. He will always, always find a way for things to work out. I come up with all these glass half empty reasons why something won’t work and he counters with at least one way that it could work. I thought I was an optimist, and I really think that I am, but maybe too much of a realist to see the creative solution sometimes. I began researching online degrees and universities and was encouraged by what I found. This was not the boring,  correspondence course work I had thought it would be. So, last week, I found myself applying to the University of Phoenix.

Of course, the entire time I was going through the application process, I was preparing myself for something to go wrong. I wouldn’t allow myself to get excited about the possibility of going to school and having a career that I love, just in case. I completed the application process on Friday and was expecting  to hear from my admissions counselor on Tuesday. I spent the entire day cleaning and scouring the house, because that helps me when I am thinking.

Right about the time that my skin was about to fall off on my hands from being in water half the day, the phone rang. It was my counselor, calling to congratulate me on being accepted to the Universities Associates in the Arts/Elementary Education program. I was also approved for my loan. I couldn’t believe it. And I was doubly shocked when I started to cry. I hadn’t allowed myself  too much time to think about the what if scenario of it all working out. I was and am so excited!

When I picked the boys up from school and told them my good news, they bombarded me with congratulations. Wolfie was unbelievably excited and wanted to know all the details of what college was going to be like for me ,and Hammy wanted to share with me all his ideas about where I could teach and how we could see each other everyday at school when I am a teacher.

I love that this is something that everyone in my family is excited about and will benefit from. I have been at a crossroads since the beginning of the year about what to do with myself now that I don’t have little babies at home all day.  I have looked down each path and tried to see what was up ahead. This path is the one I was most afraid of, but also the most drawn to. I think that is a good thing. Wish me luck!

Hurdle

Here’s the deal. I am an optimist. I really do believe that everything works out somehow. I have my moments of negativity like anyone else, but I try not to live there. Lately, I’ve been living there. Today has to be the day it turns around. I have one big thing standing in my way.

My seven and three quarters year old son.

He is going through this “I am going to challenge and attempt to negotiate everything that my Mom says” thing. Sure, he has always been a negotiator and he has always challenged convention. He has Asperger’s. That’s par for the course. The difference lately is that he is doing it with a very nasty attitude, a mean look on his face, and with a will of iron. I am exhausted. I am tense. And I am finding myself being really inflexible and drill sergeant-like, not because I consciously want to behave that way, but because I am so worn out. I just want him to back off the attitude. Be nice. Agree sometimes.

I know what this is about. We started ABA therapy at the end of August and the honeymoon period is over. He loves Miss N, his therapist, but he doesn’t love when she leaves and I expect the same things that she does. He doesn’t love that I am using the same techniques and language that she does. He keeps saying that he doesn’t love me.

Now, I know better than to allow myself to sink into self pity and wallow in the idea that my son doesn’t love me anymore. Logically, I know that he is acting out, trying to gain some control. The thing is that he was controlling the house before Miss N. His meltdowns would sometimes last an hour and who was paying attention to Hammy while we were absorbed in Wolfie’s meltdown? No one. It had to change. We had to find some balance.

Life in our house is better in so many ways since we started ABA. Hammy is happier, he is getting more attention and he isn’t mimicking Wolfie’s challenging behavior in an attempt to get our attention. Eliot and I are parenting on the same page for the most part. We are leaving our own emotions out of it and helping Wolfie turn his behavior around on his own. Wolfie is accomplishing so many things that are positive. If it weren’t for that pesky negativity, life would be pretty great.

I signed up to volunteer in Wolfie’s classroom this year. He and I talked about how I would be coming to school and he said he was excited for me to come. When I got there, he was incredibly rude to me. He refused to cooperate with anything I was asking him to do, which by the way, was simply to come and sit down at the reading table with me and two other kids. Not a huge request. And not something that should be difficult for him. Once he did finally sit down he hit me on the arm and growled at me because I agreed to let another child begin the reading. I did this because I couldn’t reward his behavior thus far, and I explained that this little girl had been waiting patiently to start while Wolfie was refusing to join.

I tried so many times to change the negative to positive. At the end of the reading group, which he left early because he didn’t feel like sitting next to me, I went over to his desk and told him I loved him. I asked him why he was so angry. He didn’t like that I was bossing him around, he said. I asked him if he wanted to share anything with me in his desk before I left. I told him we could have a few minutes where he could decide what to share with me. He told me that everything in his desk was for school and it was P-R-I-V-A-T-E (he actually spelled it out) for him and not for Mom. That hurt.

I left. As I was walking out the kids had gone to lunch recess and his teacher was walking down the hall toward me. She clearly felt bad about how Wolfie was treating me. I am sure it was sad to watch. She told me that he never had acted like that in class before toward her. Ouch.

Don’t get me wrong, I am glad that he has never acted that way toward her. I am glad that he saves his best behavior for school. I am just sad that he isn’t happier when I am there. I know he wants me there, but he is confused when school and home cross paths. It makes him uncomfortable. Just like ABA makes him uncomfortable when Miss N isn’t around.

I know that all of this will work itself out. We have been through this before and it was hard, and then somehow it became easier. It will get better. We will find a way back to the positive. That is my mantra for today.

Defeated

“I feel like such a failure,” Wolfie said to me this afternoon, crying giant tears following a meltdown after school. It is in these moments that I feel like I have failed him. What am I doing sending him to school each day when mostly, it makes him feel like this? Really, what am I doing?

This thought goes through my head more often than I’d like.  I want so badly to take him out of school and home school him, but would that be better? Could I provide the learning environment that he needs? Is it fair to have Hammy in a school and Wolfie at home? Could I handle having them both at home all the time? Would I be stunting their social growth?

The trouble with all these questions is that it depends on who you ask. There is no right answer. It isn’t black and white. There is so much grey. I am not comfortable in the grey. When I really examine how I feel I have this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that I will regret this public school decision. It comes to the fore front of my mind like someone punching me in the face when I hear my 7 year old son tell me he feels like a failure.

I want to celebrate the good things about my children. I want to praise them for and give them opportunities to utilize their strengths.  I am tired of hearing that everyone is special and that in order to be fair, blah, blah, blah. Our public schools are set up for the most common denominator. They aren’t set up for the uncommon. Individual strengths are traded in for collaborative group strength. What if your strength is one that doesn’t mesh well with the group? What if the group can use the strength, but you aren’t comfortable with the collaboration? Is it still valuable? The answer lies in the individual teacher and how he or she chooses to run the classroom.

This is precisely the problem with school. It is one transition after another and very little consistency. One teacher might offer many chances and another only gives one. One teacher may celebrate the children doing the right thing, and another places the focus on what you’ve done wrong. To a typical child this is confusing. To my aspie child it is maddening, more than frustrating.

He participates in the gifted program at his school and at the end of each day there is a sheet of paper to be sent home outlining the lesson and activity for that day. At the bottom of the page is an area for the children to rate how well they participated, listened, used their time, cooperated, and were committed to the task. The choices are 1, needs improvement, or 2, meets expectations. He gave himself 1 1/2 most of the time and a 1 3/4 for cooperation. The teacher gave him all 1’s. This is why he was so upset. He thought he had tried really hard, but saw from his scores for the day that it wasn’t enough. He said he felt like it was never enough. He said he felt like quitting.

It’s The Little Things

I got to eat lunch with the boys today at school. That is always so much fun. It was especially fun today because they were both having really great days. I was proud of Hammy because he walked into school on his own with Wolfie this morning. No tears and very little fear about it. Wolfie was very proud because he could help Hammy and do a good job at being big brother. I drove away from school this morning without that dull ache in the pit of my stomach and I was grinning from ear to ear. 

Today was fancy day for Wolfie. I have agreed to let him wear his fancy clothes to school once every two weeks. He loves to dress up in his nice shirt, his tie, dress pants and dress shoes and belt. He looks like he is going to work. The image of him dressed like that, holding Hammy’s hand on the way into school is one that I will always remember.

I was standing in line at Subway getting ready to order Wolfie’s lunch when my phone rang. I recognized the number immediately. It was school.

“This is Mrs. S’s room, Wolfie speaking!” This is what I heard when I answered. He sounded so happy!

Before I could finish my hello to him, he was telling me as fast as he could that he had just had a fire drill AND an intruder drill and he did just fine. He said he was a little afraid of the intruder drill, but that he was really OK. He was so, so proud of himself.

There was no announcement of the drill. It just happened and he was absolutely fine. I am so glad that the new school counselor was willing to try this out with him. Removing the announcement at the beginning of the day elimated all the anxiety that he normally feels about drills. I couldn’t be happier.

We had a fantastic lunch. Hammy and I ate together first and put together a car from his happy meal. Then Wolfie and I ate together and he invited two friends to join us. Watching him interact with his friends and seeing how proud he was of his accomplishment with the drills was wonderful.

Our school situation may not be perfect, but I am happy to have such good people working with Wolfie. All it takes is someone to take ownership and try to make a difference and today his teacher, his special ed coordinator, and his counselor really did a fantastic job.

All I can say is Thank You.

Following The Leader

“I want to quit REACH. I’m just a quitter and I’m not going back.” This is what Wolfie said to me when I picked him up from school. I knew something wasn’t right when I saw his face as he walked toward me after school. He had that look. The one where he was trying not to cry and not to smile. He was confused and embarrassed and he didn’t want to talk about it.

I just gave him a hug and told him we didn’t have to talk about it until he was ready. Poor guy. There is nothing that I dislike more than the idea that I send him off everyday to a place where he feels misunderstood the majority of the time. It is heartbreaking and frustrating to see such an able little boy with so much to offer struggling because he can’t conform socially.

Rules are hard. People constantly telling him what to do about trivial stuff clouds what is important. Wolfie’s greatest assets are his inventive ideas about systems and his knowledge about technology. His greatest asset socially is that he is outgoing and wants to engage with you. He wants to share his knowledge. How I wish there was a school that understood this, embraced it and encouraged it.

REACH is the gifted program at his school. He isn’t actually “in” the program, but is being allowed to audit because he is clearly gifted, but had a hard time proving it on the various tests he was given. I appreciate that he is being allowed to audit, but I find myself wondering if it is worth it.

It looks like, for Wolfie, REACH is more of the same on a more intense level for one day, three times in that day, once a week. There are a lot of transitions over the course of the day and he misses much of what happens in the regular classroom. The program is designed for kids who enjoy being challenged and thrive working and collaborating as a small group. The challenges are provided by the teacher and do not necessarily embody anything that Wolfie is interested in or motivated by.

This is hard for Wolfie. He has specific interests and would like nothing more than to explore those more to see where they lead. And why shouldn’t he? Why is our society so obsessed with group stuff? Albert Einstein wouldn’t have been the mathematician that he was if he was forced to participate in small group collaboration all the time. He probably holed up somewhere and immersed himself in his own little world of numbers and symbols. Was that expected? No, absolutely not. But aren’t we glad he did it?

I am not saying that this is what I want for Wolfie, but a little balance would be nice. Some acknowledgment on the part of the system that he doesn’t fit into their educational plan without it causing emotional pain and distress because he DOESN’T GET IT. The system needs to make room for him and his ideas. It needs to be soft and allow for his shape. He is driven by his ideas as we all are and he doesn’t come equipped with the social protocol filter that makes us all give a shit what someone else thinks. He has to learn that. And he is doing his part. He is trying.

I think the worst part of all of it is that he does have the capacity to know when someone isn’t happy with him. Today he didn’t feel that anyone was happy with him and he really didn’t know why.

He forgets how important it is to show the people around him that he is paying attention in the conventional way. He needs reminders of that because it doesn’t come naturally for him. If he can’t focus sitting in his chair then he gets up and moves around. He is still listening and in a lot of cases he hears better when he does this.

But it isn’t expected behavior to just get up in the middle of group work or when everyone is listening to the teacher from their seats. When he does this, it is distracting for the other students and for the teacher. Suddenly he is being reprimanded and he really doesn’t understand why. He wasn’t trying to be disruptive. He just needed to move a little. He feels misunderstood. He is constantly being asked to modify, to do it differently than his instincts tell him. No one is honoring WHO HE IS. What about what he needs to be successful?

“I want to quit REACH because it’s too hard. I don’t know what I did wrong today and Mrs. B raised her voice at me when she told me to go back to class.”  He started telling me about this again at bedtime. I questioned whether she really raised her voice. He said she did a little bit.

“It’s like she doesn’t understand that I have Asperger’s. And, anyway, I want to keep that private.” I reminded him that when we talk about his Asperger’s we are helping people understand why he does some of the things he does and that Asperger’s is just a difference. It isn’t anything to be embarrassed about.

We did a presentation last year to his first grade class about Asperger’s and what it means for him. Wolfie created the whole thing in Power Point and we went together and he presented it. The class loved it. They asked questions and made connections. It was one of the proudest days for him. From that point on, things changed for him in first grade. The kids made room for him and seemed to understand him better.

“I think we need to ask Mrs. N to forward that presentation to Mrs. B and Mrs. S so they can understand me better.” I love the way his mind works. Mrs. N is his first grade teacher, Mrs. B teaches REACH, and Mrs. S is is second grade teacher. I told him that we should create a new presentation or add on to the one we have and present it again. He liked my idea.

So the whole mess of an afternoon today was caused by Wolfie challenging Mrs. B and getting up from his seat to wander around the classroom. Maybe he was bored? Maybe he was uncomfortable in his chair? Maybe he listens better when he is walking? Either way, concessions should be made for different learning styles. Give him something to do that has meaning to him. Use what he has accomplished and build on it. His participation will be different from that of the other kids. That is a guarantee. 

He isn’t a follower of rules or of anyone just because you said. I have had to learn this over and over again about him. Really, this is true about everyone. No one likes to be told what to do. We are all unique individuals who have something to bring to the table. Wolfie’s is more complicated to get to, but if you are willing he will lead you there. You just have to be open to following.

New

On May 23, 2004 I woke up with contractions. I made Wolfie pancakes and tried to ignore the pain. I was not ready for labor. It wasn’t supposed to happen for another week and I wasn’t ready yet. I had no bag packed and Eliot’s parents were out of town. I drove to my parents house with Wolfie and we hung out there for awhile. Eliot was finishing up some things around the house and going to pick up a dresser from a friend. My Mom took one look at me and told me I was in labor. I didn’t believe it. It hit me like a ton of bricks around 5:00 why I had been denying that labor was, in fact ,here. Wolfie was playing with blocks on the floor and I was struck by his beauty and how much he depended on me. This would be the last time we would be a family of three. He was going to have to share. We all were. This was a time for bravery and I wasn’t sure I was up for the challenge.

All of those thoughts went completely out the window as soon as I looked into Hamilton’s eyes. He was a beautiful and healthy baby and I was in love immediately. Of course I had enough love for both. Why was it ever a question? Looking back on that day prior to his birth I understand that I was afraid. I didn’t know how it would all work out and that was terrifying. It was hard at first, but we found our groove and never looked back.

While my children were little, people would ask me what I was going to do with myself when my kids were both in school. I would think about what it would be like to “get my life back”. What it would feel like to have hours during the day to focus on something just for me. I had no idea that time would come so fast. Or that it would knock me off my feet the way it did.

The first day of school I had a bad case of butterflies all day long. Pretty normal I thought. After all, I had just dropped both of my babies off for the day. I cleaned and organized closets and grocery shopped on my own, while obsessively checking my phone for any missed calls. The second day was pretty similar to the first. Lots of cleaning and organizing and checking of my phone. I avoided writing and now I know why.

Yesterday I was sick of cleaning. We didn’t have a good morning before school and I had an enormous lump in my throat. I took apart some toys that had been taking up space in the basement and I contemplated working in the garden. I settled on a shower and then sat down at the computer. I intended to write about the morning, which I did, but I also kept wanting to interject little tidbits about the kids that really had no bearing on the story. The floodgates opened and I felt the pain I had been stuffing down all day with full force. I missed my kids. My identity for the last almost 8 years has been wrapped around these little boys of mine and now that they were gone for the day I really had no idea what to do with myself.

I wasn’t expecting this. At all. When my kids were home all day I tried to stay in the moment and realize that the little phases that we went in and out of wouldn’t last. Good or bad, they were all temporary and just part of them growing up and the beginning of a long lesson in letting go for me. I am here to tell you that it all went by way too fast for my liking. And I wonder, could I have embraced those times more? The answer is absolutely yes. Yesterday I found myself longing for someone to hold or someone to ask me a series of questions over and over until I thought I would explode.

I have never understood why people choose to have another baby at the precise moment their other children are in school all day. It seemed like such poor planning to me. I get it now. I completely understand the desire. I was immersed in it yesterday with a force so strong I thought it would pull me under. I had no idea I would feel this way. 

I am not saying that I want another baby exactly. I am not at all ready to make that leap. I have heard it said that you should do what you are passionate about. And, it turns out that what I am most passionate about are my children. I am okay with my role as Mom, first and foremost. Being Mom to my boys is the best thing I have ever done and while I miss them as babies, I am looking forward to enjoying them at this phase of life.

I no longer have complete control over what they do with their time. I cannot shield them from pain they will feel from the outside world and I cannot control what phrases they hear and who they spend time with at school. I have to place trust in the people educating them while I am not there and I have to trust them to ask for help when they need it. These are the years that shape who they will be as adults and I don’t want to screw it up. I feel an enormous amount of weight going into the choices that we make now for our boys. Choices are fluid, I know, but they seem so much more impactful now.

It was easy when they were babies to just love them up all the time. Feed them when they were hungry, change them, sing them to sleep and watch them learn new and exciting things. All under my guidance and love. I am giving over some of the job of guidance to school and I’m not sure about that. I think it is good to not be sure. It will keep me from becoming lazy in my quest for quality education and social interaction for them. My role is different, but the important stuff remains the same. Love, trust and understanding. This is what being a mother is all about. This is what I will do. It’s what I am passionate about.

This is the beginning of a new phase of mothering. Time to put my brave face on.

Not Enough Of Me To Go Around

This is day three of school and it didn’t start well. Yesterday’s fire drill left an impression on Wolfie so strong that at 6:30 this morning he was still maintaining that he would not be going to school.

I tried all the tricks I know. I tried distracting him with other conversation. I offered to make him his all-time favorite breakfast. And we talked at length about the reason for drills and what would happen if we didn’t practice for fires and other disasters. This seemed to make it worse, but he wouldn’t stop talking about it. All of this happened before Hammy woke up at 7:15.

Hammy started kindergarten this year. He goes all day and it has been a HUGE transition for both of us. I’ve missed him terribly these last few days and am so excited for pick up time. For the first time in awhile, I just can’t wait to play. I’ve had all day to get stuff done and I am eager to put my arms around both my boys and pile on the attention. The trouble is, no one is interested. At least not yet anyway.

Hammy has not been himself before or after school. He isn’t eating much and he is crabby and more quiet than usual. I remember this adjustment period when Wolfie first started kindergarten, but it was different. Hammy needs some extra love right now and I don’t have the time to give it when he needs it. I am always so worried about Wolfie and dealing with his response to things. I remember all the preparation that we did for Wolfie to start kindergarten and I didn’t do any of it for Hammy. It totally snuck up on me. I really wasn’t prepared for school to start so soon. It sounds crazy, I know. Most Moms I have talked to have been waiting for school to start so they could have a break, but I was savoring this summer. I was savoring it because of these kinds of mornings.

So, I was absorbed with sending an e-mail to Wolfie’s teachers when Hammy woke up. I was trying to get information about the tornado drill that Wolfie was absolutely certain was happening today. Hammy laid on the floor next to me while I finished the e-mail and then we went to the kitchen to make breakfast. I sat with him while he ate and we talked a little about school. He says he doesn’t have enough time to eat and that is why his lunchbox is coming home basically untouched. He told me he wanted to try to buy lunch today because it was pizza day.

By 8:00 Hammy was dressed and ready to go. Wolfie was still maintaining his “I’m not going to school today” mantra and getting more and more animated by the second. I started to panic. I was worried that any minute Hammy would join in on the refusals to go to school and we’d really be up a creek. I got Hammy involved in a project in the kitchen and went upstairs to talk to Wolfie.

Wolfie couldn’t keep his body from moving around. His legs were fidgeting and he was rolling around all over the floor. He was desperate for some kind of stimulation, but he refused to allow me to help him. When he gets like this there is no going back. It’s like watching a train wreck that could have been avoided if only the driver would have seen what you can see from your vantage point.

We have been talking a lot about trust. I have told Wolfie that part of understanding the stuff that is hard is having trust in those trying to teach. We talk a lot about what it means to love someone and to trust someone. And I tell him that I love him so much that I feel compelled to not allow him to make choices that hurt me. And I tell him that I feel compelled to teach him the things that are difficult even though it sometimes causes emotional pain. And I ask him to trust me.

Trust is hard for him.

I called my Dad and asked him to come get Hammy to take him to school. And then I called Wolfie’s special ed coordinator. She is awesome. I felt better just hearing her voice, and was hoping she couldn’t hear Wolfie throwing toys down the steps. She got on the phone with him after we talked and that was all it took. She reminded him that there was an all school assembly scheduled for today and she reassured him that there would be no tornado drill. He agreed to get in the car almost immediately. He got his shoes on and we were out the door. But not before making a last minute lunch for Hammy who had changed his mind about the pizza and asking my Dad to back out of the driveway before Wolfie saw that he was there.  

It is hard to see when someone else is more effective at getting Wolfie out of his funk. I know it is because she isn’t his mother that he was so quick to change his tune and I am happy that it all worked out. It makes me sad though because I try so hard to help him, and sometimes it seems fruitless. I have to remember my own words about love and trust.

I walked Hammy down to his classroom and kissed him goodbye. He had tears in his eyes and we talked about the story The Kissing Hand. I gave him a kiss on his hand and he pressed it to his cheek and walked into class. I know that other parents know the pain of loving and letting your children go. It is so hard. As I walked out of school, I thought about how much of the morning was spent managing Wolfie and how that can’t be the way it is. Finding the balance that will work for this new phase is one that I didn’t think about until now. I am happy that the weekend is here so that we can relax and prepare for a fresh start next week.