I once wrote about the most disgusting moment of motherhood to date. Key word is "to date." Little did I know that there were far more disturbing occurrences to come.
10. First poo situation. Z is 18 months. He explores his poopy diaper and has a very sensory experience in his crib. Caught it on video:
9. "Finger" painting with his toes in his vomit at the bottom of his activity center, The Office.
8. Straight-faced shovel full of sand into the face of a little girl who got too loud (What yo name? What yo name? What yo name?) and too close to him. Absolutely no warning on his face. Now knowing about his sensory integration delay, I can see why the girl was literally threatening to him. My first experience of being horrified at my child's behavior. Not knowing what was at work behind it, I just thought he was being really mean.
7. Poo on slide Top of the swirly slide. My friend (thank goodness I wasn't alone) stood guard warning off children while I ran to the car for wipes and plastic bags. Thankfully there was no smear of poop down the slide after, package delivered, Z slid on down. Z's re-enactment later that night: "Done go on da slide! Dare's poo up dare!"
6. Permanent marker on hard wood floor
5. Daily upheaval of room during nap time. For months!
4. On travel. Just off plane. John goes ahead to get the luggage. I stop with kids at bathroom. Z having really bad attitude. I give him a time out in a boarding area that is, thankfully, relatively empty. He is super angry about the time-out and he starts running around the row of chairs. I either have to chase him or just stand my ground and hope he comes back to me. I'm trying my hardest to stay calm. "Z, come here NOW." (In low, I-mean-business mommy voice). Z rounds the corner and stops directly across from me with two rows of chairs in between. He points and screams, "You killed my Faver!' (Yes, he meant Father.) I see a man start to chuckle out of the corner of my eye and I burst into laughter. I laugh so hard I almost cry. Z is so shocked he comes over to me and does his time-out. The kindness of strangers.
3. Z's reaction to a flu shot at the doctor's office. The door opened and he was a caged, injured animal set loose. Screaming (Full-on, cop-calling screams- see number two) and running through the ENTIRE office, back exam rooms, front waiting room, hallway to other businesses. "Get it off! Get it off!" Fifteen minutes of just barely keeping up to make sure he didn't impale himself on something. Harper in stroller, left behind at nurse's station. He almost throws himself into an elevator but a kind stranger blocks his escape path. Don't remember how I got him out of there and to the car.
2. Baby Z at home with Aunt and Uncle. So tired and upset. Can't sleep. Screaming. Lots of screaming. Cops show up.
1. (Re-creation of events, CSI-style) Z goes to the bathroom to pee. He gets distracted with Harper's new potty seat (plastic bottom, soft cushion top). He takes the seat to his bedroom to investigate. Grabs scissors and cuts apart the soft pad. Outer plastic tube, inner cushiony sponge. He cuts it into multiple neat little pieces. He realizes he never went potty and has an accident in his room. He looks around for something to clean it up. Sponges! He soaks up the pee. Nicely absorbent. Hm... the obvious next step? A little sponge painting with urine on the side of Harper's black crib.
Friday, November 11, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Sometimes Things Come Easy
I've been decidedly grumpy for the past few days (a cold doesn't help) and I was sitting here grumbling about various things when I decided I needed to just focus on something positive. Remembering that I haven't blogged in a while, I decided I need to write about a child-rearing event that was simply a gift from God.
Harper is potty-trained.
No gearing up, no printing certificates, no stocking juice and rags and treats. One day John puts her in underwear. And it's a day I go to work, so the babysitter keeps it up. I come home and feel Harper's little underwear-clad bottom. Surprise! She went all day in underwear. No accidents.
WHAT!!??
I'm one of those moms who has one of those stories. Really? What a gift! What a GIGANTIC contrast to my potty-training experience with Z. (Feel free to read previous potty training angst.) This is nothing short of a beautifully wrapped, perfect gift from God.
So, to be clear, and so you don't hate me too much, Harper has been working up to it for a while. We started doing poops on the potty when she was less than two years old because it was easy to tell when she had to go and it usually helped her to not have a diaper on when she did it. Then, recently she was very picky about her pants feeling wet at all. The diapers had to be immediately changed and then if there was the slightest residual wetness, it had to be changed again. One day we counted 14 diapers changed. So I decided to try pull-ups, thinking at least she could change them herself. True. And then she changed them 16-20 times herself. At one point I actually pulled out the hair dryer to "dry" the pull-up and to dry, um, herself (gentle cool setting from far away, don't worry!).
The morning John put her in underwear was after changing her pull-up four times before 7am. Understandable. So, she was just ready. She liked the feel of the underwear and is generally aware of when she needs to go. She still needs reminders, and she has had some accidents. But it was so much simpler and easy-going than with our first inductee. And that's not to say that it is all based just on the child. My philosophy and approach this time was a lot more easy-going.
For example, I thought a lot more about whether Harper was ready. I talked about potty on the toilet a LONG time before I even considered working on it with her. My standard for being "potty-trained" is different. I didn't focus as much on Harper being able to do it ALL on her own. I believe that independence will come with time and practice and can be gradual. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. I still help her get onto the toilet and wipe. She can pull her pants down and mostly back up, but is slow at it, so it depends on if we are in hurry mode whether she does it or not. I'm okay with reminding her. Mostly I just build it into our routine, so it's a pattern and doesn't feel like I'm nagging.
And, just in general, I have a lot less anxiety about it. I just knew she would get there eventually and didn't want to set any deadlines for it. With Z, I felt like if he wasn't trained it would seem like he was behind. I let social pressure suck me into it a bit. That said, there were a lot more issues at work with Z that we didn't know about at that time. So, a hug of grace to myself and let it go.
So, I'm thankful for milestones and Harper growing up. I'm thankful for learning from mistakes and being able to let go a bit more. I'm thankful for an easy-going, sweet little girl who continues to prove her middle name.
Harper is potty-trained.
No gearing up, no printing certificates, no stocking juice and rags and treats. One day John puts her in underwear. And it's a day I go to work, so the babysitter keeps it up. I come home and feel Harper's little underwear-clad bottom. Surprise! She went all day in underwear. No accidents.
WHAT!!??
I'm one of those moms who has one of those stories. Really? What a gift! What a GIGANTIC contrast to my potty-training experience with Z. (Feel free to read previous potty training angst.) This is nothing short of a beautifully wrapped, perfect gift from God.
So, to be clear, and so you don't hate me too much, Harper has been working up to it for a while. We started doing poops on the potty when she was less than two years old because it was easy to tell when she had to go and it usually helped her to not have a diaper on when she did it. Then, recently she was very picky about her pants feeling wet at all. The diapers had to be immediately changed and then if there was the slightest residual wetness, it had to be changed again. One day we counted 14 diapers changed. So I decided to try pull-ups, thinking at least she could change them herself. True. And then she changed them 16-20 times herself. At one point I actually pulled out the hair dryer to "dry" the pull-up and to dry, um, herself (gentle cool setting from far away, don't worry!).
The morning John put her in underwear was after changing her pull-up four times before 7am. Understandable. So, she was just ready. She liked the feel of the underwear and is generally aware of when she needs to go. She still needs reminders, and she has had some accidents. But it was so much simpler and easy-going than with our first inductee. And that's not to say that it is all based just on the child. My philosophy and approach this time was a lot more easy-going.
For example, I thought a lot more about whether Harper was ready. I talked about potty on the toilet a LONG time before I even considered working on it with her. My standard for being "potty-trained" is different. I didn't focus as much on Harper being able to do it ALL on her own. I believe that independence will come with time and practice and can be gradual. It doesn't have to be all or nothing. I still help her get onto the toilet and wipe. She can pull her pants down and mostly back up, but is slow at it, so it depends on if we are in hurry mode whether she does it or not. I'm okay with reminding her. Mostly I just build it into our routine, so it's a pattern and doesn't feel like I'm nagging.
And, just in general, I have a lot less anxiety about it. I just knew she would get there eventually and didn't want to set any deadlines for it. With Z, I felt like if he wasn't trained it would seem like he was behind. I let social pressure suck me into it a bit. That said, there were a lot more issues at work with Z that we didn't know about at that time. So, a hug of grace to myself and let it go.
So, I'm thankful for milestones and Harper growing up. I'm thankful for learning from mistakes and being able to let go a bit more. I'm thankful for an easy-going, sweet little girl who continues to prove her middle name.
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
Lint
We had a visit from the local fire department on Monday. I still can't believe it happened. I was taking a nap, Z was watching TV, Harper was sleeping in my bedroom... and I smelled smoke. I jumped up and ran to the laundry room and found smoke coming out of the dryer. I stopped the dryer and emptied it to see if I could see what was going on. I opened the side door (in the laundry) room to get ventilation. The smoke was getting heavier so I ran to get the fire extinguisher and came back to the dryer. By then the smoke was thicker and I picked up the phone on the laundry room wall and called 911. My voice was a choking squeak but I got out my address.
After hanging up I sprayed my fire extinguisher into the dryer but I couldn't tell where the fire was. When I stopped and listened, I could hear the fire. A roaring, crackling fire. Then I looked on the right side of the dryer and saw an orange glow through the crack in the dryer side. That is when I threw my basket of clothes outside (to get it out of the way) and I ran to get the kids. Z was great and put his shoes on right away. I picked up Harper, grabbed my purse and a pair of pants for Z (who was in his underwear). We went out front and sat on the front lawn to wait for the fire truck. I pulled snacks out of my purse and had them start eating and I ran to open the gate to the backyard and move that laundry basket of clothes farther into the backyard to get them further out of the way. At that point I also was thinking through the fact that was roughly one half of John and my regular wardrobe.
The fire truck pulled up... this was probably 10 minutes after I first smelled fire, so they probably only took about 7 minutes max. I showed them where to go and then went to sit with the kids. They had us move across the street and we waited. They all were very nonchalant, and I told Z that that was a good sign. After another 10 or 15 minutes they pulled our dryer out onto the front lawn:
My neighbor came over and gave me a hug. At that point I finally lost it a little and started to cry. I just didn't want to fall apart in front of the kids. My neighbor was SOO hugely helpful just by being there. It made me think of that proverb that a neighbor near by is better than a brother far away. Anyway, there was a bit of a mess, but no damage to the house. Praise God that we were all safe and we didn't lose anything significant. There are so many "what if's" that go through your mind after something like this... what if I wasn't home, what if it was the middle of the night, what if the fire department wasn't as close to us as they are...
I'm sure you're wondering what caused it...
LINT.
Unbelievable. I didn't clean the lint trap and the exhaust to outside was backed up with lint so not enough air was getting to it. The fireman said to clean out that vent every two months. And clean the lint filter EVERY time. Now I know. And now you know. I'll never make that mistake again. I'll also never run the dryer when I'm away, or even at night.
We spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess. John had to scrub down the walls and ceiling of the laundry room because of the soot. And there was water and smokey yuck all on our kitchen floor. There is still a faint smell of smoke in the laundry room and at that side of the kitchen, but it didn't go into the bedrooms or living room. I'm just so, so thankful for our safety.
A friend said that I could officially call that a bad day. I told him that I actually felt more like I had won the lottery. :)
After hanging up I sprayed my fire extinguisher into the dryer but I couldn't tell where the fire was. When I stopped and listened, I could hear the fire. A roaring, crackling fire. Then I looked on the right side of the dryer and saw an orange glow through the crack in the dryer side. That is when I threw my basket of clothes outside (to get it out of the way) and I ran to get the kids. Z was great and put his shoes on right away. I picked up Harper, grabbed my purse and a pair of pants for Z (who was in his underwear). We went out front and sat on the front lawn to wait for the fire truck. I pulled snacks out of my purse and had them start eating and I ran to open the gate to the backyard and move that laundry basket of clothes farther into the backyard to get them further out of the way. At that point I also was thinking through the fact that was roughly one half of John and my regular wardrobe.
The fire truck pulled up... this was probably 10 minutes after I first smelled fire, so they probably only took about 7 minutes max. I showed them where to go and then went to sit with the kids. They had us move across the street and we waited. They all were very nonchalant, and I told Z that that was a good sign. After another 10 or 15 minutes they pulled our dryer out onto the front lawn:
My neighbor came over and gave me a hug. At that point I finally lost it a little and started to cry. I just didn't want to fall apart in front of the kids. My neighbor was SOO hugely helpful just by being there. It made me think of that proverb that a neighbor near by is better than a brother far away. Anyway, there was a bit of a mess, but no damage to the house. Praise God that we were all safe and we didn't lose anything significant. There are so many "what if's" that go through your mind after something like this... what if I wasn't home, what if it was the middle of the night, what if the fire department wasn't as close to us as they are...
I'm sure you're wondering what caused it...
LINT.
Unbelievable. I didn't clean the lint trap and the exhaust to outside was backed up with lint so not enough air was getting to it. The fireman said to clean out that vent every two months. And clean the lint filter EVERY time. Now I know. And now you know. I'll never make that mistake again. I'll also never run the dryer when I'm away, or even at night.
We spent the rest of the day cleaning up the mess. John had to scrub down the walls and ceiling of the laundry room because of the soot. And there was water and smokey yuck all on our kitchen floor. There is still a faint smell of smoke in the laundry room and at that side of the kitchen, but it didn't go into the bedrooms or living room. I'm just so, so thankful for our safety.
A friend said that I could officially call that a bad day. I told him that I actually felt more like I had won the lottery. :)
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Remembering to Name
Just flipped open my Bible to this, Psalm 77:
1 I cried out to God for help;
I cried out to God to hear me.
2 When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;
at night I stretched out untiring hands,
and I would not be comforted.
3 I remembered you, God, and I groaned;
I meditated, and my spirit grew faint.[b]
4 You kept my eyes from closing;
I was too troubled to speak.
5 I thought about the former days,
the years of long ago;
6 I remembered my songs in the night.
My heart meditated and my spirit asked:
7 “Will the Lord reject forever?
Will he never show his favor again?
8 Has his unfailing love vanished forever?
Has his promise failed for all time?
9 Has God forgotten to be merciful?
Has he in anger withheld his compassion?”
10 Then I thought, “To this I will appeal:
the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand.
11 I will remember the deeds of the LORD;
yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
12 I will consider all your works
and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”
13 Your ways, God, are holy.
What god is as great as our God?
14 You are the God who performs miracles;
you display your power among the peoples.
15 With your mighty arm you redeemed your people,
the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.
The next psalm lists the ways God watched over the Israelites despite their turning away from Him again and again.
This reminds me to remember. To think of all the ways God blesses me. To name the tangible ways He shows His love.
210. The pteredactyl noises of a newborn.
211. The collaboration of two kids building a secret hide-out fort. "Harper, get back to work." "Can I have the blue tape now?" "Yeah, we're really special, because we have special powers in our body."
212. Bean and cheese burrito, no onion, no sauce.
213. Nap time.
214. The witty words of Jane Austen making a long drive enjoyable.
215. A quick but deep conversation with a friend, tears flowing, arms holding.
216. Gently probing the wound and feeling only a slight tenderness. Thank you, God, for healing!
1 I cried out to God for help;
I cried out to God to hear me.
2 When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;
at night I stretched out untiring hands,
and I would not be comforted.
3 I remembered you, God, and I groaned;
I meditated, and my spirit grew faint.[b]
4 You kept my eyes from closing;
I was too troubled to speak.
5 I thought about the former days,
the years of long ago;
6 I remembered my songs in the night.
My heart meditated and my spirit asked:
7 “Will the Lord reject forever?
Will he never show his favor again?
8 Has his unfailing love vanished forever?
Has his promise failed for all time?
9 Has God forgotten to be merciful?
Has he in anger withheld his compassion?”
10 Then I thought, “To this I will appeal:
the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand.
11 I will remember the deeds of the LORD;
yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
12 I will consider all your works
and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”
13 Your ways, God, are holy.
What god is as great as our God?
14 You are the God who performs miracles;
you display your power among the peoples.
15 With your mighty arm you redeemed your people,
the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.
The next psalm lists the ways God watched over the Israelites despite their turning away from Him again and again.
This reminds me to remember. To think of all the ways God blesses me. To name the tangible ways He shows His love.
210. The pteredactyl noises of a newborn.
211. The collaboration of two kids building a secret hide-out fort. "Harper, get back to work." "Can I have the blue tape now?" "Yeah, we're really special, because we have special powers in our body."
212. Bean and cheese burrito, no onion, no sauce.
213. Nap time.
214. The witty words of Jane Austen making a long drive enjoyable.
215. A quick but deep conversation with a friend, tears flowing, arms holding.
216. Gently probing the wound and feeling only a slight tenderness. Thank you, God, for healing!
Monday, September 26, 2011
Beautiful Wreck
Seven or so years ago I was in a scary car accident on the 405 freeway. It was raining very hard and my car hydroplaned perpendicularly across five lanes of traffic. Thank God, I was okay and the passenger in the only car I hit was also okay. After the car was pulled out of the bushes and ditch (and was still drive-able), we drove side streets to a gas station near our house to look at the damage and decide where to drop it for repairs. When I saw the damage done to the front of the car I almost collapsed. All the pseudo-calm to handle the emergency dissolved and I sobbed hysterically. Seeing the extent of the accident, I realized how much worse it could have been and I felt intense gratitude that I didn't die.
This past week I felt like I was getting a glimpse at the mangling, ripping emotional and spiritual accident that occurred in my life within the last five years. Grief, post partum depression, young children (one who was extremely challenging), unhappiness in life circumstances, a fruitless church life... they all twisted and turned me, John and our marriage into a gory wreck. In the depths of that dark place, ugliness, sin and anger thrived and marred us even more. We have been walking away from the wreck for more than two years and slowly healing and rebuilding. We have felt God's hand through the love of our friends and new church family helping us to mend and renew. But recent events have turned me around to look again at that wreck I so want to leave behind.
Last weekend John shared our story at a men's retreat for our church. In preparing to talk about accountability, John was led back through those very difficult years and was able to see God's loving hand through it all. At a time when John felt alone, he can now see how God's church and people were there the entire time, like a safety net, keeping John from more sin and pain. John was deeply blessed by this view of God's work in his life and God's protection of him during a very vulnerable time. But for me, this was like looking back at the twisted metal of my car and seeing what might have been. The wounds of the last few years are reopened and I'm hurt again by the animosity and indifference that was in our marriage. I can see more clearly the sin that thrived when we were in that dark place and now I can see how much worse it could have been.
And it hurts.
I've been so tempted to be angry again. At myself. At John. At God. All the same questions come up again. Why me? Why us? Why did this have to happen? How can this be for our good? Does God really love me? Does God really want only good for me?
I turn to One Thousand Gifts again for Ann Voskamp's God-given, life-giving words.
"Surely, just as I have intended so it has happened, and just as I have planned so it will stand." (Is 14:24)
and
"See that I am God. See that I am in everything. See that I do everything. See that I have never stopped ordering my works, nor ever shall, eternally. See that I lead everything on to the conclusion I ordained for it before time began, by the same power, wisdom and love with which I made it. How can anything be amiss." (Julian of Norwich)
"...I won't shield God from my anguish by claiming He's not involved in the ache of this world and Satan prowls but he's a lion on a leash and the God who governs all can be shouted at when I bruise, and I can cry and I can howl and He embraces the David-hearts who pound hard on His heart with their grief and I can moan deep that He did this -- and He did. I feel Him hold me -- a flailing child tired in Father's arms.... I know all our days are struggle and warfare and that the spirit-to-spirit combat I endlessly wage with Satan is this ferocious thrash for joy. He sneers at all the things that seem to have gone hideously mad in this sin-drunk world, and I gasp to say God is good. The liar defiantly scrawls his graffiti across God's glory and I heave to enjoy God."(AV)
This moment of light and sight to John, for me, is a moment of darkness. I too easily turn toward the darkness of lacking, the lie that God is not there. And yet He whispers sweetly that if I had never seen the wreckage I would never have known His protective hand. Never seeing the bottom of that chasm, I would not rightly know my dependence on Him. Without the vision of God's word to properly see the things around us, I will only see the hole, the lack. God's word points me again to His goodness.
"Only the Word is the answer to rightly reading the world, because the Word has nail-scarred hands that cup our face close, wipe away the tears running down, has eyes to look deep into our brimming ached, and whisper, "I know. I know." The passion on the page is a Person, and the lens I wear of the Word is not abstract idea but they eyes of the God-Man who came and knows the pain." AV
And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 1 Peter 5:10
Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. Hebrews 5:14-16
This past week I felt like I was getting a glimpse at the mangling, ripping emotional and spiritual accident that occurred in my life within the last five years. Grief, post partum depression, young children (one who was extremely challenging), unhappiness in life circumstances, a fruitless church life... they all twisted and turned me, John and our marriage into a gory wreck. In the depths of that dark place, ugliness, sin and anger thrived and marred us even more. We have been walking away from the wreck for more than two years and slowly healing and rebuilding. We have felt God's hand through the love of our friends and new church family helping us to mend and renew. But recent events have turned me around to look again at that wreck I so want to leave behind.
Last weekend John shared our story at a men's retreat for our church. In preparing to talk about accountability, John was led back through those very difficult years and was able to see God's loving hand through it all. At a time when John felt alone, he can now see how God's church and people were there the entire time, like a safety net, keeping John from more sin and pain. John was deeply blessed by this view of God's work in his life and God's protection of him during a very vulnerable time. But for me, this was like looking back at the twisted metal of my car and seeing what might have been. The wounds of the last few years are reopened and I'm hurt again by the animosity and indifference that was in our marriage. I can see more clearly the sin that thrived when we were in that dark place and now I can see how much worse it could have been.
And it hurts.
I've been so tempted to be angry again. At myself. At John. At God. All the same questions come up again. Why me? Why us? Why did this have to happen? How can this be for our good? Does God really love me? Does God really want only good for me?
I turn to One Thousand Gifts again for Ann Voskamp's God-given, life-giving words.
"Surely, just as I have intended so it has happened, and just as I have planned so it will stand." (Is 14:24)
and
"See that I am God. See that I am in everything. See that I do everything. See that I have never stopped ordering my works, nor ever shall, eternally. See that I lead everything on to the conclusion I ordained for it before time began, by the same power, wisdom and love with which I made it. How can anything be amiss." (Julian of Norwich)
"...I won't shield God from my anguish by claiming He's not involved in the ache of this world and Satan prowls but he's a lion on a leash and the God who governs all can be shouted at when I bruise, and I can cry and I can howl and He embraces the David-hearts who pound hard on His heart with their grief and I can moan deep that He did this -- and He did. I feel Him hold me -- a flailing child tired in Father's arms.... I know all our days are struggle and warfare and that the spirit-to-spirit combat I endlessly wage with Satan is this ferocious thrash for joy. He sneers at all the things that seem to have gone hideously mad in this sin-drunk world, and I gasp to say God is good. The liar defiantly scrawls his graffiti across God's glory and I heave to enjoy God."(AV)
This moment of light and sight to John, for me, is a moment of darkness. I too easily turn toward the darkness of lacking, the lie that God is not there. And yet He whispers sweetly that if I had never seen the wreckage I would never have known His protective hand. Never seeing the bottom of that chasm, I would not rightly know my dependence on Him. Without the vision of God's word to properly see the things around us, I will only see the hole, the lack. God's word points me again to His goodness.
"Only the Word is the answer to rightly reading the world, because the Word has nail-scarred hands that cup our face close, wipe away the tears running down, has eyes to look deep into our brimming ached, and whisper, "I know. I know." The passion on the page is a Person, and the lens I wear of the Word is not abstract idea but they eyes of the God-Man who came and knows the pain." AV
And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. 1 Peter 5:10
Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need. Hebrews 5:14-16
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Relief in New Routines
This past week was the start of our new routine for the year. Z started preschool on Wednesday. I started my new job on Thursday. From now on, Z will be in school Monday, Wednesday, Friday. And I'll be working Tuesday, Thursday: two full days which is twice as much as I used to work. As with any new thing, I was nervous about the change and the transition for the kids. With change being especially hard for Z, I was expecting the worst, hoping the best for his adjustment to his new class and teacher.
And, honestly, I'm coming to realize that the change is often harder for me than it is for him! He ran right off to his new class on the first day... and the second day.... And he was calm and happy when I picked him up both days. I had lobbied the school director to have the teacher he has and I'm so thrilled to see him connecting already with her. I think she also was expecting the worst (based on true feedback from Z's last year teacher and from me) and was pleasantly surprised. She called me Friday night and told me that his behavior was so good that he was picked to be the line leader for the whole day. I must have smiled for at least five minutes after the call!
I am just so amazed and grateful for the progress Z has made over the summer in so many ways. He is so much more calm and confident. He is thrilled when he does a good job and I can see how hard he tries to do a good job most of the time. The funny thing about change is how even when it is for the better, I can keep operating in the assumptions of the past. I have to fight against the anxiety and dread that I used to feel every time there was a social interaction of a long outing. Z is proving to me again and again how much he has grown and I just have to learn to trust it. Or, another way of saying it is, God is proving to me over and over how much He loves me through the good and the bad, and I just have to learn to trust Him.
Photo Credit: Sofia
And, honestly, I'm coming to realize that the change is often harder for me than it is for him! He ran right off to his new class on the first day... and the second day.... And he was calm and happy when I picked him up both days. I had lobbied the school director to have the teacher he has and I'm so thrilled to see him connecting already with her. I think she also was expecting the worst (based on true feedback from Z's last year teacher and from me) and was pleasantly surprised. She called me Friday night and told me that his behavior was so good that he was picked to be the line leader for the whole day. I must have smiled for at least five minutes after the call!
I am just so amazed and grateful for the progress Z has made over the summer in so many ways. He is so much more calm and confident. He is thrilled when he does a good job and I can see how hard he tries to do a good job most of the time. The funny thing about change is how even when it is for the better, I can keep operating in the assumptions of the past. I have to fight against the anxiety and dread that I used to feel every time there was a social interaction of a long outing. Z is proving to me again and again how much he has grown and I just have to learn to trust it. Or, another way of saying it is, God is proving to me over and over how much He loves me through the good and the bad, and I just have to learn to trust Him.
Photo Credit: Sofia
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Gift Number 148
Contagious Laughter
For those catching up, I've been counting gifts from God to stir up the joy in my life. Hope this brings you some joy today.
For those catching up, I've been counting gifts from God to stir up the joy in my life. Hope this brings you some joy today.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Evolution of a Room II
Two years ago I posted on how I rearranged the kids room to fit Harper in a crib and Z in a toddler bed. I can't believe we have now just transitioned again for the final time (at least in this two-bedroom house).
As Harper likes to tell everyone who will listen (including strangers): "I hab bunt-bed!" (I have a bunk bed!)
So I moved Harper from a mini crib to a twin bed! She is so tiny in it, but she loves it. Z is stoked to be on the top and is loving the extra wall space for his artwork that this brings. The first week of bedtime was pretty rough; lots of playing instead of sleeping, but they are getting used to it now. We were already disciplining Harper if she got out of her crib so we continued that (with some grace the first few nights as she adjusted) and she is doing really well.
I had a lot of fun planning this next phase of the kids' room. Bunk bed, dresser and comforters are from Ikea. The bunk bed took 5 hours to assemble. Thank you, John! And I only had to paint the turquoise circles in the room to a spring green color to give the room a bigger kid look. And that little storage unit with the pull out drawers is a life-saver! I can't believe the relief when I got all the toys put away in the drawers and there was even more room to pull out some of the toys I had to keep buried in the closet. I'm really happy with the result!
As Harper likes to tell everyone who will listen (including strangers): "I hab bunt-bed!" (I have a bunk bed!)
So I moved Harper from a mini crib to a twin bed! She is so tiny in it, but she loves it. Z is stoked to be on the top and is loving the extra wall space for his artwork that this brings. The first week of bedtime was pretty rough; lots of playing instead of sleeping, but they are getting used to it now. We were already disciplining Harper if she got out of her crib so we continued that (with some grace the first few nights as she adjusted) and she is doing really well.
I had a lot of fun planning this next phase of the kids' room. Bunk bed, dresser and comforters are from Ikea. The bunk bed took 5 hours to assemble. Thank you, John! And I only had to paint the turquoise circles in the room to a spring green color to give the room a bigger kid look. And that little storage unit with the pull out drawers is a life-saver! I can't believe the relief when I got all the toys put away in the drawers and there was even more room to pull out some of the toys I had to keep buried in the closet. I'm really happy with the result!
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Death's Sting
I just heard that my neighbor's 20 year-old son passed away. He struggled with drug addiction and it finally was what ended his life.
I've been thinking about what to write in a sympathy card to the family, and especially the mom, who I talk to pretty regularly. The words I use will probably be gentle and vague and perhaps not very meaningful. But what I want to say is that...
Death is a terrible, tragic thing in anyone's life. It is wrong and unfair. It is the hateful conclusion to our lifelong struggle against the curse of sin and death we inherited from our first father, Adam. Even when it is a person who has lived a long life of many good things, there is still a great loss and sadness. In the best case, those left behind can be comforted that they will see their loved one again when they meet in heaven with their Lord and Savior. But even then, it just doesn't feel right. We were created as eternal beings. Interruption of our life, even if it is just in this world, still seems wrong.
And to think of how a mother must feel to see her son, still young, cut off by an addiction that crippled the fruitfulness of much of his life. The regret, the guilt, the what-if's, if-only's. I think of how much potential and hope I have for my own son and I imagine the deep, gut-wrenching sadness of seeing him make the wrong decisions. Watching him walk a path that will only lead to destruction.
What a wake-up call to what really matters in this life. I'm outside trimming rose bushes, contemplating these things and I pray that God would protect my kids from life-stealing sins. And then I thought what I really need to pray for is just that they would know their needfulness of God. That they would see their sin when they are small and learn to go to God for forgiveness and restoration. That God would clothe them in wisdom and strengthen them in making choices that please Him. And I pray that God would continually focus me on the things that really matter. The heart issues that lie below the surface. Not just the behaviors that annoy or hurt on the outside.
As ugly and sad as it is, I'm thankful for death. I'm thankful for the reminder that this life is just a blink of the eye. We are but grass that withers away and the things that matter are the eternal ones... loving God with all our heart, soul and strength.
Lord, help me store up treasures that do not fade: the thoughts, attitudes and actions that honor You.
I've been thinking about what to write in a sympathy card to the family, and especially the mom, who I talk to pretty regularly. The words I use will probably be gentle and vague and perhaps not very meaningful. But what I want to say is that...
Death is a terrible, tragic thing in anyone's life. It is wrong and unfair. It is the hateful conclusion to our lifelong struggle against the curse of sin and death we inherited from our first father, Adam. Even when it is a person who has lived a long life of many good things, there is still a great loss and sadness. In the best case, those left behind can be comforted that they will see their loved one again when they meet in heaven with their Lord and Savior. But even then, it just doesn't feel right. We were created as eternal beings. Interruption of our life, even if it is just in this world, still seems wrong.
And to think of how a mother must feel to see her son, still young, cut off by an addiction that crippled the fruitfulness of much of his life. The regret, the guilt, the what-if's, if-only's. I think of how much potential and hope I have for my own son and I imagine the deep, gut-wrenching sadness of seeing him make the wrong decisions. Watching him walk a path that will only lead to destruction.
What a wake-up call to what really matters in this life. I'm outside trimming rose bushes, contemplating these things and I pray that God would protect my kids from life-stealing sins. And then I thought what I really need to pray for is just that they would know their needfulness of God. That they would see their sin when they are small and learn to go to God for forgiveness and restoration. That God would clothe them in wisdom and strengthen them in making choices that please Him. And I pray that God would continually focus me on the things that really matter. The heart issues that lie below the surface. Not just the behaviors that annoy or hurt on the outside.
As ugly and sad as it is, I'm thankful for death. I'm thankful for the reminder that this life is just a blink of the eye. We are but grass that withers away and the things that matter are the eternal ones... loving God with all our heart, soul and strength.
Lord, help me store up treasures that do not fade: the thoughts, attitudes and actions that honor You.
Friday, August 5, 2011
Huge Thanks for Little Gifts
All I can say is that you all are praying out there. Today was SO much better than the first few days of the week. I really could see the gifts of God today in so many ways.
We had a great time with friends at the beach and I got to see Z really playing with his friend and handling little interactions of sharing and getting into each other's projects. And then, the highlight of the morning was when I looked up to see him coming up out of the water, his little face streaming with water and a look of surprise on his face. I started toward him, thinking he had fallen, waiting for him to start crying, and then he burst into a triumphant smile! I heard him tell his friend, "That's a duck dive!" Oh, man! I was so proud of him! He NEVER puts his face in the water! And to see him do it on his own just for fun was spectacular!
This afternoon at the park, we found some chalk. Z wrote his entire name on the sidewalk. Another first! He has never written his whole name anywhere! He has shown a lot more interest in writing and drawing lately, which is so encouraging. He is showing more control of his hold on the pen and wanting to draw things more clearly. He has a journal he has been filling with pictures with squiggles at the bottom; he told us he is writing a book!
What a great day!
We had a great time with friends at the beach and I got to see Z really playing with his friend and handling little interactions of sharing and getting into each other's projects. And then, the highlight of the morning was when I looked up to see him coming up out of the water, his little face streaming with water and a look of surprise on his face. I started toward him, thinking he had fallen, waiting for him to start crying, and then he burst into a triumphant smile! I heard him tell his friend, "That's a duck dive!" Oh, man! I was so proud of him! He NEVER puts his face in the water! And to see him do it on his own just for fun was spectacular!
This afternoon at the park, we found some chalk. Z wrote his entire name on the sidewalk. Another first! He has never written his whole name anywhere! He has shown a lot more interest in writing and drawing lately, which is so encouraging. He is showing more control of his hold on the pen and wanting to draw things more clearly. He has a journal he has been filling with pictures with squiggles at the bottom; he told us he is writing a book!
What a great day!
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
On the Edge
I have felt on the edge of so many things lately. On the edge of frustration, losing my patience, anger, sadness, tears, harsh words, headaches. And also on the edge of joy streaming down my cheeks in tears, gratefulness, revelation, understanding. It seems that every time God has adjusted my perspective again to the right things and I'm able to focus on the gifts and joy in my life, a few hard moments or a rough couple nights of sleep take it all away again.
After a busy weekend and time with lots of great friends, I woke up on Monday morning stripped. And if I felt tired, then it's reasonable to assume the kids would be tired too. Needless to say, Z has been more difficult the past few days. And I have been weak and exhausted. Not a good combination. The battles in the moment are hard - keeping calm while he spews angry words and he's coming unhinged and it's all I can do to think clearly about what my next step should be. But it's usually after the battle that I break down. He'll be back to playing, having done his time and offered his apology. And I'm washing dishes in the kitchen, hiding my sobbing, screwed up face, trying to keep my shoulders from shaking.
I feel angry and sad and insufficient. Lies circle in my head, like cawing crows, saying that I can't do this any more, and, if I could just get away...
And the funny thing is that the chapter I read this weekend from One Thousand Gifts was about needing to daily go to God for sustenance. To daily focus on the beauty and gifts He has given. Just like the manna had to be collected daily in the desert lest we forget our dependence on God. And the most important thing is to find the manna- the little miracles of yumminess in a barren, desolate place- among the every day. To not need to get away or be alone to see the beauty. Up to this point, my list making has been on Sundays when I have time to myself to reflect. It's not enough. It fills the gas tank but there is a hole in my tank and the joy is all gone by Monday morning.
So, tomorrow is a new day. I'll start a new day finding the gifts God sends me. And I'll leave you with the last few I wrote down (some of which aren't from Sunday. Smile.)
73. Son's crooked mouth and half-closed eye when he's pondering something
75. Harper's muppet hair when she wakes up in the morning
76. cotton ball clouds
77. Silence when the kids finally do go to sleep.
After a busy weekend and time with lots of great friends, I woke up on Monday morning stripped. And if I felt tired, then it's reasonable to assume the kids would be tired too. Needless to say, Z has been more difficult the past few days. And I have been weak and exhausted. Not a good combination. The battles in the moment are hard - keeping calm while he spews angry words and he's coming unhinged and it's all I can do to think clearly about what my next step should be. But it's usually after the battle that I break down. He'll be back to playing, having done his time and offered his apology. And I'm washing dishes in the kitchen, hiding my sobbing, screwed up face, trying to keep my shoulders from shaking.
I feel angry and sad and insufficient. Lies circle in my head, like cawing crows, saying that I can't do this any more, and, if I could just get away...
And the funny thing is that the chapter I read this weekend from One Thousand Gifts was about needing to daily go to God for sustenance. To daily focus on the beauty and gifts He has given. Just like the manna had to be collected daily in the desert lest we forget our dependence on God. And the most important thing is to find the manna- the little miracles of yumminess in a barren, desolate place- among the every day. To not need to get away or be alone to see the beauty. Up to this point, my list making has been on Sundays when I have time to myself to reflect. It's not enough. It fills the gas tank but there is a hole in my tank and the joy is all gone by Monday morning.
So, tomorrow is a new day. I'll start a new day finding the gifts God sends me. And I'll leave you with the last few I wrote down (some of which aren't from Sunday. Smile.)
73. Son's crooked mouth and half-closed eye when he's pondering something
75. Harper's muppet hair when she wakes up in the morning
76. cotton ball clouds
77. Silence when the kids finally do go to sleep.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Not A Mess
Felt overwhelmed this morning by a messy house. Striving to see blessing instead of messing. If I had no children my house would be very clean, but how much I would be missing!
"Where there are no oxen, the manger is empty, but from the strength of an ox come abundant harvests." Proverbs 14:4
Not marker all over the table (you can't quite see it in the picture).
Budding artists. Refining fine motor skills.
Not sticky fingerprints.
Curious, capable fingers exploring for more art supplies.
Not furniture scraped across the floor to all the wrong places.
An airship flying to Africa.
Not books piled in commandeered laundry basket.
Trip to the library. Love of reading.
Not interference with order and decor.
A boy so proud of his artwork he has to "decorate" his whole room with it.
Not those d*&n cardboard blocks spread all over the room.
Baby dragon, just hatched from his egg.
"Where there are no oxen, the manger is empty, but from the strength of an ox come abundant harvests." Proverbs 14:4
Not marker all over the table (you can't quite see it in the picture).
Budding artists. Refining fine motor skills.
Not sticky fingerprints.
Curious, capable fingers exploring for more art supplies.
Not furniture scraped across the floor to all the wrong places.
An airship flying to Africa.
Not books piled in commandeered laundry basket.
Trip to the library. Love of reading.
Not interference with order and decor.
A boy so proud of his artwork he has to "decorate" his whole room with it.
Not those d*&n cardboard blocks spread all over the room.
Baby dragon, just hatched from his egg.
Friday, July 22, 2011
The Most Perfect Spot
(Photo taken by Harper)
I have to take time to write down this week. Z's teacher said that Wednesday at school was "the perfect day!" And those words have helped me see how so many things this week have been perfect.
On Monday at school, Z got amped up during the playground time and pushed a friend. Mrs D told him he couldn't do that or he wouldn't be able to play on the playground. Z apologized to his friend and then, on his own, ran to the tree and pushed it hard. Then he ran to the fence and pushed it. Back and forth, eight times, pushing that energy into "friends" that are okay to push. Then he was able to join back into the playing with more calm. Wow! I was so proud of him for finding a way to get the pressure and force he needed in a way that was acceptable and didn't hurt others. I was so happy to praise him for his great idea.
On Tuesday we went to Occupational Therapy as usual, but this week we didn't take Harper with us. The therapist thought we should try that again because Z has been very distractible these last few weeks and unable to focus on the "missions" she had for him. The difference was pretty significant. Z was calmer throughout the entire time and during the going in and leaving. I asked him as we were leaving if he had a good time even though Harper wasn't there. He said yes. I said it seemed like it was more calm and peaceful. Did he feel that too? And he said yes. Again, I'm so proud of him for sensing how he feels and things that make him overwhelmed versus more calm experiences.
On Wednesday Z had his "perfect day." He was happy and involved the entire day. They went to the music room (which they haven't done all summer and is usually a place of discomfort for him) and he participated in all of the movement games! This has never happened before. He usually gets agitated by the noise and movement and either lies down as far away from the other kids as he can or he'll sit in the hallway just outside the door (Mrs D's suggestion). Mrs. D said that he got a little wiggly at one point during a game but that she told him that the game required standing still at that moment. She gave him the option to go to the hallway if he felt overwhelmed but he chose to stay! And he was able to stay still and remain calm.
Then, during playground time he played with the other kids in sync with their games, playing WITH them, for the entire 20 minutes! This also hasn't happened before. Z will often need time to himself outdoors and he'll go find a quieter place to play by himself for a bit before rejoining other kids. And, finally, during playtime with water, a bin of water tipped over and drenched Z. He got a little upset and said to take his shirt off quick, quick! Mrs. D thought it was going to be a moment for him to lose it, but instead, once the shirt was off, he was fine! No one likes getting their shirt drenched, especially a child with tactile sensitivity! But he handled it! I'm so proud of him!
Praise God! I am so thankful for these signs of Z improving and maturing. And the best part is that he just seems happy! He seems more comfortable and not as anxious. When other kids are around he seems curious and friendly rather than on guard and withdrawn. Even today at a park with a bunch of kids, Auntie M commented on how happy he seemed. And he played pretty much the whole time WITH other kids instead of by himself.
So I'm writing down these reasons to be thankful. And I hope I've learned how children don't develop in a straight line and we could cycle around to another bad day/week, but I feel like I know what is possible for us. And I feel so much more hopeful that we are doing the right things to help Z.
I'm in the most perfect spot.*
*Also a very cute book by Diane Goode.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Grace Floats
On Sundays, I dread it when it's my turn to take Z to sunday school (which starts right before the sermon). The class starts with singing, so Z usually heads straight under a table. I have a really hard time being patient when I just want to go listen to the sermon. Every time I see him resisting joining the group, hiding under tables, or worse, trying to run out of the building, I honestly just wish he was like the other kids. Why can't he just sit on the rug like everyone else?
This Sunday, he was doing pretty well. I got him to sit next to me on the rug and as I participated in the songs, so did he. But just a few feet away from us there were these perfect little easter-egg colored balloons tied to a chair. As we came in we speculated together on what they were for and how special it was that just his class had them. It was a helpful incentive for him to want to go to class. But then, the balloons were just too tempting and he went over to see them. I followed quickly after him and told him right away that he couldn't touch them. They were only tied once around the arm of the chair. One light tug and the balloon would fly up to the high ceiling- out of reach. But Z HAD to touch them. He pulled at one and I managed to catch it just in time. My heart jumped in my throat at the near miss, imagining the class being one short of "enough" balloons. I'm sure the look on my face wasn't very patient as I emphasized again the importance of leaving them alone and if all the balloons got loose that no one would have the treat of having one and then someone will be sad... and then...
Z ran his fingers across those loosely-tied ribbons...
and I grasped and lunged and saved quite a few but six or seven balloons floated away. My face turned red, my blood surged. If I wasn't at church I'm not sure what might have come out of my mouth. I pseudo-calmly walked the remaining balloons over to one of the teachers and then grabbed Z's hand and walked him down the hall away from his class. I started to berate him about how he didn't listen and that was EXACTLY what I told him would happen and now not all of the kids would get balloons... and...
Then I saw his face.
He was very upset and about to cry. He started to get angry and said that he didn't want to be Z anymore. "I'm going to change my name." "I don't like being me." He even hit his chest with his fist. Oh, man. Did that change my tune. I asked him if he was upset because he didn't control himself. He said yes.
Deep breath. Praise God I had enough self control of my own to calm down and talk to him about asking for forgiveness when we sin. I told him I was glad he was sad about disobeying me and doing something that could take something special away from his friends. But that our sin was the reason Jesus came. And we all make mistakes and we all sin. But Jesus forgives us. And I forgive you. I made him look right in my eyes and I said that two or three times: I forgive you.
Eventually we went back to the group and he joined in. Shortly after, as I was walking back to the auditorium, I kept thinking about how hard I was on him about the balloons. That rage that welled up inside me. I realized how much of it was connected to embarrassment. All those balloons bobbing away and me and Z right there, the cause of it all because my son doesn't listen to me. And disappointment. Why is it always my kid who does stuff like that? Why can't he sit on the rug like everyone else? I let my concern for what others think about me be more important than my son.
I stewed on that for a while and replayed over and over in my head how it all happened and maybe I should have done this instead. Or who in their right mind ties balloons just once on the arm of a chair with a bunch of KIDS around? (Blame is always an easy defense mechanism.) And how mean was my face when I was talking to him? And how hard did I grab his little hand?
And then I remembered that I had just told Z he was forgiven. I told him that when something is forgiven that we forget about it and, when possible, see if we can make amends (maybe Papa will be able to reach the balloons if he stands on the table). And I told him that I didn't want him to be upset about it anymore or say mean things about himself. And there I was upset and dwelling on my own sin. And calling myself names. And not forgetting it. How can I show my son forgiveness when I don't accept God's forgiveness of me?
It was one of those times when I literally prayed, "Okay, God. I get it." Just like Z when he says: "I already know that, Ma!" I wonder if God chuckles at me like I do at Z: "Well, then, why do I have to remind you so often?"
This Sunday, he was doing pretty well. I got him to sit next to me on the rug and as I participated in the songs, so did he. But just a few feet away from us there were these perfect little easter-egg colored balloons tied to a chair. As we came in we speculated together on what they were for and how special it was that just his class had them. It was a helpful incentive for him to want to go to class. But then, the balloons were just too tempting and he went over to see them. I followed quickly after him and told him right away that he couldn't touch them. They were only tied once around the arm of the chair. One light tug and the balloon would fly up to the high ceiling- out of reach. But Z HAD to touch them. He pulled at one and I managed to catch it just in time. My heart jumped in my throat at the near miss, imagining the class being one short of "enough" balloons. I'm sure the look on my face wasn't very patient as I emphasized again the importance of leaving them alone and if all the balloons got loose that no one would have the treat of having one and then someone will be sad... and then...
Z ran his fingers across those loosely-tied ribbons...
and I grasped and lunged and saved quite a few but six or seven balloons floated away. My face turned red, my blood surged. If I wasn't at church I'm not sure what might have come out of my mouth. I pseudo-calmly walked the remaining balloons over to one of the teachers and then grabbed Z's hand and walked him down the hall away from his class. I started to berate him about how he didn't listen and that was EXACTLY what I told him would happen and now not all of the kids would get balloons... and...
Then I saw his face.
He was very upset and about to cry. He started to get angry and said that he didn't want to be Z anymore. "I'm going to change my name." "I don't like being me." He even hit his chest with his fist. Oh, man. Did that change my tune. I asked him if he was upset because he didn't control himself. He said yes.
Deep breath. Praise God I had enough self control of my own to calm down and talk to him about asking for forgiveness when we sin. I told him I was glad he was sad about disobeying me and doing something that could take something special away from his friends. But that our sin was the reason Jesus came. And we all make mistakes and we all sin. But Jesus forgives us. And I forgive you. I made him look right in my eyes and I said that two or three times: I forgive you.
Eventually we went back to the group and he joined in. Shortly after, as I was walking back to the auditorium, I kept thinking about how hard I was on him about the balloons. That rage that welled up inside me. I realized how much of it was connected to embarrassment. All those balloons bobbing away and me and Z right there, the cause of it all because my son doesn't listen to me. And disappointment. Why is it always my kid who does stuff like that? Why can't he sit on the rug like everyone else? I let my concern for what others think about me be more important than my son.
I stewed on that for a while and replayed over and over in my head how it all happened and maybe I should have done this instead. Or who in their right mind ties balloons just once on the arm of a chair with a bunch of KIDS around? (Blame is always an easy defense mechanism.) And how mean was my face when I was talking to him? And how hard did I grab his little hand?
And then I remembered that I had just told Z he was forgiven. I told him that when something is forgiven that we forget about it and, when possible, see if we can make amends (maybe Papa will be able to reach the balloons if he stands on the table). And I told him that I didn't want him to be upset about it anymore or say mean things about himself. And there I was upset and dwelling on my own sin. And calling myself names. And not forgetting it. How can I show my son forgiveness when I don't accept God's forgiveness of me?
It was one of those times when I literally prayed, "Okay, God. I get it." Just like Z when he says: "I already know that, Ma!" I wonder if God chuckles at me like I do at Z: "Well, then, why do I have to remind you so often?"
Friday, July 15, 2011
Naming to Save Me
1. the smell of the morning when you can tell it's going to be a hot day
9. my soft, gushy pillow
20. warm sun on back, cool breeze
36. the caramel-colored foam on a latte
55. the putter of a small plane overhead
It's been a couple of months now that I have been writing down things I love. Things for which I'm thankful. Things for which I thank God. It started with a book a friend gave me called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. Her idea is that thanksgiving is a precursor to miracles. It's the faith that brings salvation. It's the grace that gives us a full, rich life in Christ. What started as a dare to write down one thousand gifts from God became a way of changing her perspective toward God's goodness instead of at the loss and lack in our world and in our own lives.
A concept I really like in the book is about naming things. Naming was Adam's first job in Creation. To quote from her book (which is a quote from Alexander Schmemann):
“Naming reveals the very essence of a thing, manifests the meaning and value God gave it, to know it as coming from God and to know its place and function within the cosmos created by God. To name a thing, in other words, is to bless God for it and in it.”
I love this idea of the power of naming as a spiritual exercise which gives meaning to, and thanksgiving for, the things in my life. Those things are always there, but naming them and thanking God for them gives them power. It gives me power as I connect myself consciously to God and His love.
I've tried this kind of thing before- writing down things I'm thankful for- and sometimes it has been helpful and other times it failed horribly. One point Ann Voskamp makes is that the things need to be very specific and small. This seems counter-intuitive. We Christians so often thank God for things like family, salvation, creation, etc. As Ann says: "I discover that slapping a sloppy brush of thanksgiving over everything in my life leaves me deeply thankful for very few things in my life." As I started my list, I tried to focus on the things that make me happy. Those things that make me smile or sigh. And I didn't pressure myself to a schedule of a certain number a day or even a frequency. By keeping it natural and guilt-free, I'm hoping it is something I can sustain for a long time.
Is it working? Am I a changed woman who sees good in every situation? No. Not yet. But as Erasmus said, "A nail is driven out by another nail. Habit is overcome by habit." And, again quoting Ms. Voskamp: "To learn how to be grateful and happy, whether hands full or hands empty. That is a secret worth spending a life on learning.”
9. my soft, gushy pillow
20. warm sun on back, cool breeze
36. the caramel-colored foam on a latte
55. the putter of a small plane overhead
It's been a couple of months now that I have been writing down things I love. Things for which I'm thankful. Things for which I thank God. It started with a book a friend gave me called One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. Her idea is that thanksgiving is a precursor to miracles. It's the faith that brings salvation. It's the grace that gives us a full, rich life in Christ. What started as a dare to write down one thousand gifts from God became a way of changing her perspective toward God's goodness instead of at the loss and lack in our world and in our own lives.
A concept I really like in the book is about naming things. Naming was Adam's first job in Creation. To quote from her book (which is a quote from Alexander Schmemann):
“Naming reveals the very essence of a thing, manifests the meaning and value God gave it, to know it as coming from God and to know its place and function within the cosmos created by God. To name a thing, in other words, is to bless God for it and in it.”
I love this idea of the power of naming as a spiritual exercise which gives meaning to, and thanksgiving for, the things in my life. Those things are always there, but naming them and thanking God for them gives them power. It gives me power as I connect myself consciously to God and His love.
I've tried this kind of thing before- writing down things I'm thankful for- and sometimes it has been helpful and other times it failed horribly. One point Ann Voskamp makes is that the things need to be very specific and small. This seems counter-intuitive. We Christians so often thank God for things like family, salvation, creation, etc. As Ann says: "I discover that slapping a sloppy brush of thanksgiving over everything in my life leaves me deeply thankful for very few things in my life." As I started my list, I tried to focus on the things that make me happy. Those things that make me smile or sigh. And I didn't pressure myself to a schedule of a certain number a day or even a frequency. By keeping it natural and guilt-free, I'm hoping it is something I can sustain for a long time.
Is it working? Am I a changed woman who sees good in every situation? No. Not yet. But as Erasmus said, "A nail is driven out by another nail. Habit is overcome by habit." And, again quoting Ms. Voskamp: "To learn how to be grateful and happy, whether hands full or hands empty. That is a secret worth spending a life on learning.”
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
The Robot Place
To help Z with his sensory integration delay, we are going to Occupational Therapy once a week. It's just him and the therapist, Miss Kim. And Z loves it! It's a big super-fun playground indoors with a two-story robot and a giant ship with a swing in the middle. We call it the robot place and he looks forward to going every week. I can even take Harper now so she and I play while Z plays with the therapist.
As I said before, Z just thinks it's a great place to play. The first few times we went he asked when the other kids were coming. When the parking lot was fuller than usual one week, he said, "uh oh, there are going to be a lot of kids there!" Smile. I explained that we have a special appointment each week and Miss Kim doesn't let anyone else come when it's our time.
His favorite things so far are a gigantic ball pit full of those little soft spikey balls and the swing which is hanging down in the middle of the giant ship. The swing bounces and spins in every direction and he can't get enough. I would love to go on it myself. Here is a video:
I think all this vestibular stimulation is really helping because a few weeks ago I saw him walk up stairs alternating his feet for the first time. And he has started pedaling a bike more often (although not all the time yet).
And one of the most simple solutions has been a little chewy star that he can keep on his belt loop. When Z felt overwhelmed or even excited he would put things in his mouth. I guess it helps get out energy and even stimulates both sides of the brain somehow. The first time he took it to school, the teacher commented on what a great day he had. We waited to see if it was the star or not and, sure enough, the next time at school, he had another good day. She said he uses it quite a bit at times that were noisy or when the kids were very active. I can't believe that something so simple could help so much.
Seeing some tangible improvements has been so encouraging. It just confirms that we are on the right track and that we can really help him.
As I said before, Z just thinks it's a great place to play. The first few times we went he asked when the other kids were coming. When the parking lot was fuller than usual one week, he said, "uh oh, there are going to be a lot of kids there!" Smile. I explained that we have a special appointment each week and Miss Kim doesn't let anyone else come when it's our time.
His favorite things so far are a gigantic ball pit full of those little soft spikey balls and the swing which is hanging down in the middle of the giant ship. The swing bounces and spins in every direction and he can't get enough. I would love to go on it myself. Here is a video:
I think all this vestibular stimulation is really helping because a few weeks ago I saw him walk up stairs alternating his feet for the first time. And he has started pedaling a bike more often (although not all the time yet).
And one of the most simple solutions has been a little chewy star that he can keep on his belt loop. When Z felt overwhelmed or even excited he would put things in his mouth. I guess it helps get out energy and even stimulates both sides of the brain somehow. The first time he took it to school, the teacher commented on what a great day he had. We waited to see if it was the star or not and, sure enough, the next time at school, he had another good day. She said he uses it quite a bit at times that were noisy or when the kids were very active. I can't believe that something so simple could help so much.
Seeing some tangible improvements has been so encouraging. It just confirms that we are on the right track and that we can really help him.
Friday, June 17, 2011
Making Sense
My inner writer has finally nagged me enough to bring me back here again. It feels like a lot has happened in just six months so it's a little hard to jump back into writing. But no way to jump in but to jump...
Z has a delay in sensory integration.
There it is. Such a simple sentence with so much strain, effort and struggle behind it. Raising Z has never been a walk in the park, but after he was in preschool for a few months I decided to meet with his teacher and pick her brain about his behavior and if she had any big ideas for helping him. I just thought that if he was such a challenge to me at home then he had to be challenging her as well. I asked her if he interacted readily with the other kids, if he got angry, if she had ever seen him pedal the bike. That first meeting inspired his teacher, Mrs. D., to observe him more and note anything unusual in his behavior or development. I still praise God that Mrs. D. had enough experience and knowledge to look further into sensory integration as a potential problem area for Z.
Since then we have confirmed Z does have a delay in sensory integration. I like to say this more than "he has sensory integration disorder." Disorder seems unsurmountable. Delay is something he can overcome.
So what the heck is sensory integration disorder [also known as sensory processing disorder (SPD)]? Here's what wikipedia defines sensory integration dysfunction: "inability to organize sensory information as it comes in through the senses." A more useful description is available in "The Out of Sync Child," by Carol Stock Kranowitz: "SPD can cause a bewildering variety of symptoms. When their central nervous systems are ineffective in processing sensory information, children have a hard time functioning in daily life. They may look fine and have superior intelligence, but may be awkward and clumsy, fearful and withdrawn, or hostile and aggressive. SPD can affect not only how they move and learn, but also how they behave, how they play and make friends, and especially how they feel about themselves."
I've had some time to read and understand this so this is how I explain it to friends. A delay in sensory integration means that a child hasn't learned how to interpret all of the signals his senses send to his brain in the appropriate way. This could look very different in different kids because of all of the senses involved: touch, sight, sound, balance and movement (or, tactile, visual, auditory, proprioceptive and vestibular). It can also take the form of a child being either over-responsive or under-responsive. For example, a child over-responsive to touch may not be able to tell the difference between a light touch by a bee or by her mother. In the case of the bee, the child should be alert and careful. In the other, the child should be comforted and reassured.
No imagine that occurring with every sense-- imagine how overwhelming it would be to feel like every sense is potentially harmful. Imagine how it would feel to have your body in a state of "flight or fright" a lot of the time. Children in the situation learn how to protect themselves from those negative responses by secluding themselves, not being willing to try new things, being defiant or difficult or withdrawn.
I have seen all of those things in Z. Often it has been at times that seem inexplicable as it was a situation most kids love (bounce house, birthday party, park). So many times I was disappointed and confused by his terrible behavior, such as tantrums or aggressiveness, in places that were supposed to be fun. It happened enough that I did learn how to prevent and ease these reactions when I could. I guess I learned Z without knowing some of the why behind him.
Now that I have more information on sensory integration and how the brain and body respond, there are many mysteries about Z that have come clear. It's good to know that we were doing a lot of good things for Z already, but I sure do appreciate having a deeper understanding and rationale behind those decisions. It's a lot easier to say no to the second birthday party in one day when I have science to back up my mother's instinct.
So what now? I mentioned that a delay is something one can overcome. And it is true, that with some help (occupational therapy), Z's brain and body can catch up on the connections that aren't working quite right. And the therapy isn't tedious or difficult - it is playing! All of the things kids do all of the time help them make sense of their senses. Spinning, running, climbing, playing in water, play-dough, eating, dress-up. Isn't it wonderful how kids naturally do the things that help them grow! So Z is just getting a little extra, extra-special, play time. And we've already seen some good improvements, so stay tuned, if you're interested and I'll write more on that next time.
Thanks for listening!
Z has a delay in sensory integration.
There it is. Such a simple sentence with so much strain, effort and struggle behind it. Raising Z has never been a walk in the park, but after he was in preschool for a few months I decided to meet with his teacher and pick her brain about his behavior and if she had any big ideas for helping him. I just thought that if he was such a challenge to me at home then he had to be challenging her as well. I asked her if he interacted readily with the other kids, if he got angry, if she had ever seen him pedal the bike. That first meeting inspired his teacher, Mrs. D., to observe him more and note anything unusual in his behavior or development. I still praise God that Mrs. D. had enough experience and knowledge to look further into sensory integration as a potential problem area for Z.
Since then we have confirmed Z does have a delay in sensory integration. I like to say this more than "he has sensory integration disorder." Disorder seems unsurmountable. Delay is something he can overcome.
So what the heck is sensory integration disorder [also known as sensory processing disorder (SPD)]? Here's what wikipedia defines sensory integration dysfunction: "inability to organize sensory information as it comes in through the senses." A more useful description is available in "The Out of Sync Child," by Carol Stock Kranowitz: "SPD can cause a bewildering variety of symptoms. When their central nervous systems are ineffective in processing sensory information, children have a hard time functioning in daily life. They may look fine and have superior intelligence, but may be awkward and clumsy, fearful and withdrawn, or hostile and aggressive. SPD can affect not only how they move and learn, but also how they behave, how they play and make friends, and especially how they feel about themselves."
I've had some time to read and understand this so this is how I explain it to friends. A delay in sensory integration means that a child hasn't learned how to interpret all of the signals his senses send to his brain in the appropriate way. This could look very different in different kids because of all of the senses involved: touch, sight, sound, balance and movement (or, tactile, visual, auditory, proprioceptive and vestibular). It can also take the form of a child being either over-responsive or under-responsive. For example, a child over-responsive to touch may not be able to tell the difference between a light touch by a bee or by her mother. In the case of the bee, the child should be alert and careful. In the other, the child should be comforted and reassured.
No imagine that occurring with every sense-- imagine how overwhelming it would be to feel like every sense is potentially harmful. Imagine how it would feel to have your body in a state of "flight or fright" a lot of the time. Children in the situation learn how to protect themselves from those negative responses by secluding themselves, not being willing to try new things, being defiant or difficult or withdrawn.
I have seen all of those things in Z. Often it has been at times that seem inexplicable as it was a situation most kids love (bounce house, birthday party, park). So many times I was disappointed and confused by his terrible behavior, such as tantrums or aggressiveness, in places that were supposed to be fun. It happened enough that I did learn how to prevent and ease these reactions when I could. I guess I learned Z without knowing some of the why behind him.
Now that I have more information on sensory integration and how the brain and body respond, there are many mysteries about Z that have come clear. It's good to know that we were doing a lot of good things for Z already, but I sure do appreciate having a deeper understanding and rationale behind those decisions. It's a lot easier to say no to the second birthday party in one day when I have science to back up my mother's instinct.
So what now? I mentioned that a delay is something one can overcome. And it is true, that with some help (occupational therapy), Z's brain and body can catch up on the connections that aren't working quite right. And the therapy isn't tedious or difficult - it is playing! All of the things kids do all of the time help them make sense of their senses. Spinning, running, climbing, playing in water, play-dough, eating, dress-up. Isn't it wonderful how kids naturally do the things that help them grow! So Z is just getting a little extra, extra-special, play time. And we've already seen some good improvements, so stay tuned, if you're interested and I'll write more on that next time.
Thanks for listening!
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