Today in the waiting room of "our" therapy clinic, I held my screaming almost-two year old and listened to one mom's story about her struggle to get her daughter proper medical care and therapy. As much as I could piece together her story, it sounded as if her daughter was in multi-system organ failure due to dehydration and malnutrition before she could convince anyone that she needed help. Evelyn screamed and kicked and this mom just went right on with her story. As soon as the therapist came out, though, she immediately stood up and went back to talk with her.
Another therapy mom-turned-friend came by and patted my shoulder as we briefly chatted before she had to run out the door to pick something up from her child's doctor for his school. We would be gone when she returned, but we confirmed we would both be there Thursday. Our new Fall schedule lends itself to a fun, thirty minute window where we look forward to overlapping in the waiting room.
A mom of four waited with her three daughters, all of whom were kind and patient as Evelyn bordered on invading their personal space. One mom I often see around town, came in with her son to pick up her little girl who'd had a great day at therapy. The mother of four and the one who came in with her son apparently know each other too. They chatted for a moment before respective therapists came out to discuss each child's progress.
Therapy mom's* can be a lot of things. Speaking for myself personally, we can be scattered, overwhelmed, frustrated, confused, guilty of over-sharing, and a little crazy. But they can also be more patient than other parents. They know all children are different and all are of infinite value. They are more able to find the bright side. An age appropriate temper tantrum because the child wants to do it herself--awesome! They are more prone to believe your story or your thoughts about your child, even if your thoughts sound unorthodox or unusual. They've been (or still are) there.
It struck me today, though, that therapy moms, possibly more than the general population of moms, need someone to listen to their story. To be honest, it was a little strange that someone would continue to tell her story while the listener's two year old decomposed. And it got me thinking how probably few real, compassionate listeners therapy moms have. I hear story after story of pediatricians who refused to give referrals for evaluations. I'm thankful that my experience has had no resemblance to that sad, reason-less trend. Grandparents can sometimes be overly confident that the child is "perfect" or overly concerned and, unfortunately, poorly equipped to communicate those concerns appropriately. Teachers can be over worked and overwhelmed to get through the day with an entire class full of children. They may not have time, energy, or resources to be a sounding board for a concerned parent. And many women don't have many actual friends to listen to whatever happens to be going on in life, including your puzzle of a two year old for whom things don't appear to be completely typical.
So, just like we all need people with whom we can freely share our or our child's "story," those of us with slightly atypical stories probably experience the need to be heard, understood, and encouraged even more acutely. And today, I noticed all of these moms doing whatever they can to help their child--at home, certainly, and at school, and at therapy--dropping everything and standing at attention when their child's therapist entered the waiting room. My kids can be screaming and running. It's possible I'm almost screaming at them to stop doing those things; but it doesn't really matter. The mom has zeroed in on her child's therapist, and she listens and explains and asks questions and hopes for answers. And while the questions and particulars might be extremely practical in nature; there is something so powerful about a good or bad report. Whether it be a yearly evaluation, a goal met, or just a really great day; the encouragement and hope it can bring is strangely powerful. And, unfortunately, the converse is true as well.
And, as all of this dawns on me; I suddenly feel sympathy for these therapists. Many of them would be considered "young" in the professional world, many of them do not have children of their own, many of them go above and beyond every day. They are doing a great, life-changing thing, but they are not trained to walk moms through the "therapy" experience. And they can't always know how well the parent is coping. I'm not sure, but I don't think they take a class on that; although I'm sure under a good clinical instructor, it could certainly be touched upon and discussed as part of good "parent communication."
Suddenly, the therapist's job is not only to be magically capable of making extremely difficult and often repetitive work fun, engaging, and productive for the child, but it also falls to them to ensure whether or not the parent is living with realistic expectations, plugging into a support network, liaising with the appropriate doctors and specialists, and finding ways of dealing with these extra stresses in a constructive manner. That's to say nothing of the parents they encounter who still need help moving into a parent role where they can learn to make caring for their child a priority. How much of that could depend on any one professional, regardless of their educational background?
So, as I left the waiting room, having watched the dynamics of the afternoon; I realized how much pressure and anticipation I can unknowingly place on the poor, unsuspecting therapists who treat my child. Of course I expect them to do their job with excellence; but I want to make a conscious decision to maintain a diversified portfolio of people with whom I can connect, vent, or find support. And, by doing so, I hope to be able to bring encouragement to the waiting room both for the therapy moms and for the therapists.
*While there are certainly therapy dads who bring their children, work with therapists, and have, no doubt, their own stories to tell, I do not make it a habit of speaking with them at great length.
9/6/13
Surprises
Children surprise you. They surprise you by surprising you. When you most expect a specific, predetermined outcome, they change up the ending on you. The ending you've watched eight thousand times. This is at once comforting and terrifying. It's comforting when they surprise you by growing up a year's worth seemingly over night. It's terrifying that you never know what they are capable of right under the surface of who they are day in and day out. That you don't expect great things from them because you've become accustomed to some other not as great things. How sad that you would spend their precious toddler and preschool years so focused on all the crazy of the day to day that you forget to equip, encourage, and instill for who they will become as opposed to who they currently are.
It's easy to forget because they have to eat--regularly! Many also do eventually learn to talk, clearly and constantly--even the ones with apraxia. In this country, at least, there's also the expected outings of childhood that are pretty much a requirement. Luckily, that's one of the things I thoroughly enjoy about raising my kidlets; but it sure puts a damper on house keeping....or cooking....or functioning in really any other capacity; there's a lot of day to day to juggle around, let alone attempting to visionarily raise them.
It's easy to forget because there are so many people whose job it appears is to encourage you to focus on the here and now. Well-meaning, loving people who each have their own very specific area of training, expertise, world-view, and sometimes, if we can all agree to call a spade a spade, opinions, about where, when, why, how, how often, to what extent, and with whom your child should be, go, learn, do, create, and grow. As a mom who considers her family to be her career as well as her calling, it's a lot to take in. If it's your job to do right by them, then, of course you are not so arrogant as to think there are not others who know more about some things than you. So, you research and listen and question and, sometimes, almost forget.
It's easy to forget the people they will be, the people you've not yet had the pleasure of meeting. It's easy to forget no one else will be responsible for the outcome to the degree that you will be. It's easy to forget how you'd hoped this whole thing would go. Your own ideas and values, that you'd dreamed of living out in your calling to these small, becoming creatures who call you "Mommy." The people they will be exist positively in so much as I'm creating in them love, kindness, courage, and capability now. Keeping those people-in-the-making in mind helps tune out the noise.
In the end, they'll surprise themselves too. They have no way of knowing what is happening each and every day under their own precious curls. They know songs, stories, family, and teachers. They know more than I'm proud to admit of "Max or Ruby," "Veggie Tales," "Daniel Tiger," and "Psalty." But they don't know that someday, in retrospect, the surprises might form a fairly clear trajectory; that today, yesterday, and last week are not all that is going on. Characters are being formed; synapses are being made; love is being shared. And, I'm hopeful that those things are preparing us all for great surprises.
It's easy to forget because they have to eat--regularly! Many also do eventually learn to talk, clearly and constantly--even the ones with apraxia. In this country, at least, there's also the expected outings of childhood that are pretty much a requirement. Luckily, that's one of the things I thoroughly enjoy about raising my kidlets; but it sure puts a damper on house keeping....or cooking....or functioning in really any other capacity; there's a lot of day to day to juggle around, let alone attempting to visionarily raise them.
It's easy to forget because there are so many people whose job it appears is to encourage you to focus on the here and now. Well-meaning, loving people who each have their own very specific area of training, expertise, world-view, and sometimes, if we can all agree to call a spade a spade, opinions, about where, when, why, how, how often, to what extent, and with whom your child should be, go, learn, do, create, and grow. As a mom who considers her family to be her career as well as her calling, it's a lot to take in. If it's your job to do right by them, then, of course you are not so arrogant as to think there are not others who know more about some things than you. So, you research and listen and question and, sometimes, almost forget.
It's easy to forget the people they will be, the people you've not yet had the pleasure of meeting. It's easy to forget no one else will be responsible for the outcome to the degree that you will be. It's easy to forget how you'd hoped this whole thing would go. Your own ideas and values, that you'd dreamed of living out in your calling to these small, becoming creatures who call you "Mommy." The people they will be exist positively in so much as I'm creating in them love, kindness, courage, and capability now. Keeping those people-in-the-making in mind helps tune out the noise.
In the end, they'll surprise themselves too. They have no way of knowing what is happening each and every day under their own precious curls. They know songs, stories, family, and teachers. They know more than I'm proud to admit of "Max or Ruby," "Veggie Tales," "Daniel Tiger," and "Psalty." But they don't know that someday, in retrospect, the surprises might form a fairly clear trajectory; that today, yesterday, and last week are not all that is going on. Characters are being formed; synapses are being made; love is being shared. And, I'm hopeful that those things are preparing us all for great surprises.
6/16/13
All About Spencer and Evelyn's Daddy
Interview with Spencer
Father's Day 2013
How old is your daddy? I don't know. Four?
What color is your daddy's hair? Black.
What color are your daddy's eyes? I don't know. He's a worker. He's at work.
What kind of clothes does your daddy like to wear? His blue shirt and all the other clothes.
What does your daddy like to eat? Peanut butter banana sandwich.
Do you see him eat that? Uh huh. A few weeks ago.
Your daddy is smart because he knows everything!
Your daddy works hard at work, at his office.
Where is that? At church.
What does Daddy do at work? He has a horse to ride. He lays on a pillow and takes a nap. Is that correct?
If you could give your daddy anything, what would it be? Me!
What is your daddy's name? Jonathan
What is his last name? Kelley
Where does your daddy like to go? All over the whole wide world--and he can do anything!
For fun, he likes to play! What do you guys play with? With my bristle blocks.
My favorite thing to do with my dad is play Daddy tag.
I love my dad because I play with him!
Interview with Evelyn
Father's Day 2012
How old is your daddy? Daddy! [Giggling]
What color is your daddy's hair? Daddy! [Giggling]
What color are your daddy's eyes? [Laughing hysterically]
What kind of clothes does Daddy wear? [Laughing hysterically]
Do you love Daddy? No! [Squealing and laughing]
Spencer: Mommy, I think you better ask Evie again.
5/21/13
Evelyn Rose As A 20 Month Old
Evie Roo, you still love to help, especially when it means we are leaving the house. You love to get dressed, get bags packed, and when I tell Spencer to get his shoes on, you often go get them before he does and start putting them on for him. He's starting to appreciate this set up, and smiles delightedly and tells you "Thanks, Evie!" Y'all are quite a pair. You love to hi-ya!, sword fight, play chase, and build forts with him, but you also love you baby dolls and you try to diaper them, change their clothes, wrap them up in blankets, and take care of them.
At night, you love to be tucked in with a collection of goodies, including your pacifiers, blanket, pillow, cup, two of Spencer's stuffed dog Natalie got him from Ikea, your Owl from Nana, your Violet dog who plays night time songs, and your baby doll along with its cup, bottle, and paci. When I put you in your crib, you lay your head down on your pillow, and then you want to be covered up with a blanket. You sometimes sleep in your big girl bed with no problem, but we're still working on getting you to sleep all night long, so we haven't switched you over yet.
Spencer finally convinced us to let you guys play in the hose in May. It was not very hot yet, and you were freezing; but you so wanted to be involved. Even when you were shivering and turning purple, you would not let me wrap you up and carry you inside. When you saw me taking your picture, you said, "Cheese" with Spencer.
You already really enjoy accessorizing. The picture above is an example of your current style. After I get you dressed, you tell me, "Bow?" and we find you a bow. I have to be really quick or you start picking out all sort of clippies and head bands, along with paci clips (which you think are an accessory), and once you've decided you want to wear something specific, we usually just go with it. You're not easily swayed. You don't like to wear a pony tail very much. Sometimes if we're busy enough you'll leave it in, but as soon as we get home or you get still in your car seat, you pull it out.
You miss Spencer when he is at gone, but you do like playing with his toys without harassment.
At night, you love to be tucked in with a collection of goodies, including your pacifiers, blanket, pillow, cup, two of Spencer's stuffed dog Natalie got him from Ikea, your Owl from Nana, your Violet dog who plays night time songs, and your baby doll along with its cup, bottle, and paci. When I put you in your crib, you lay your head down on your pillow, and then you want to be covered up with a blanket. You sometimes sleep in your big girl bed with no problem, but we're still working on getting you to sleep all night long, so we haven't switched you over yet.
Spencer finally convinced us to let you guys play in the hose in May. It was not very hot yet, and you were freezing; but you so wanted to be involved. Even when you were shivering and turning purple, you would not let me wrap you up and carry you inside. When you saw me taking your picture, you said, "Cheese" with Spencer.
You already really enjoy accessorizing. The picture above is an example of your current style. After I get you dressed, you tell me, "Bow?" and we find you a bow. I have to be really quick or you start picking out all sort of clippies and head bands, along with paci clips (which you think are an accessory), and once you've decided you want to wear something specific, we usually just go with it. You're not easily swayed. You don't like to wear a pony tail very much. Sometimes if we're busy enough you'll leave it in, but as soon as we get home or you get still in your car seat, you pull it out.
You miss Spencer when he is at gone, but you do like playing with his toys without harassment.
You still LOVE Barney, and you really singing songs and dancing or doing the motions. You love "Mr. Sun," "Skin-A-Marinkee Dinky Dink," "Itsy Bitsy Spider," the "ABC Song," "Wheels On the Bus," and "If All the Rain Drops." Anything you can do motions to, you really love. You like it when I sing a song and let you fill in the last word to each phrase. I pause and you sing the missing word while smiling really big. You do not like for games, songs, or movies to be over.
When I got home from a quick trip to Savannah, you ran up to me and said, "Hold me!" After that you have had an expressive language explosion. It's so fun to hear your little voice sound like a big girl. Some of your favorite phrases are "Spencer, aaaaaare yoooooouuu?" "T'Mon, Da--ee, sit here." And "'Mon, Ma-ee" along with "Clean up."
You did so well with your Dad, your Aunt Natalie, and our church friend Holly while I was gone. I missed you so much, but I was so proud of you. They said you didn't fuss at all at Sunday School, or with Nat or Holly. You're growing up so quickly.
Also, waiting for me to get home from Savannah was the stomach virus. You and Spencer both had it the night I arrived, but Daddy and I managed to miss this one.
4/21/13
19 Months
Evelyn, every month you surprise me with how smart you are. This past month, Gigi met us one time at the soccer field for Spencer's soccer practice. The next time we were walking out the door to go to soccer, you started asking for Gigi. Instead of jumping to conclusions and thinking you actually remembered that she was there once and thinking that you for sure knew that we were going to soccer, I just thought that sometimes when we leave the house in the afternoon, it is to go to Gigi's house, and that is probably why you were asking for her. But, as soon as we got to the soccer fields, you started asking for her again. You don't miss a thing.
You went with me to Spencer's Easter party, and you thoroughly enjoyed yourself. There seemed to be only months as opposed to years between you and the kids in his class. You loved it so much, in fact, that you persuaded your mom who planned on keeping you home at least one more year that you had to be signed up for Mother's Day Out this fall. Since you're a September birthday, you'll be almost two when it's time to start.
Your second Easter was so much fun. We went to Easter events all weekend, and you discovered that you love candy, particularly chocolate candy, but you even made your way through some Twizzlers in your car seat. It did seem to upset your tummy, though, so while I was happy to throw caution to the wind in light of our risen savior, I was also encouraged in how I usually feed you. Your tummy just doesn't know what to do with all that sugar.
In April, you saw the ocean for the first time, and when it was warm and sunny, you really had fun at the beach. You also loved staying in the condo with family, and you slept in a regular bed much better than you've been sleeping in your crib. You had a few rough nights of being awake too much, but you had a couple nights where you slept all night. Getting you to sleep was hard, and I finally had to just leave you in there screaming. I told you if you got out of bed you'd be "disciplined," and you bought it, "protested" for a bit, and then went to sleep every time--naps and bed time. I wish I had figured this out at the very beginning of the trip, but it was also great to see that you can sleep in a "big" bed whenever we need you to. We did take side rails for the bed, and those are definitely necessary for how actively you sleep, but all in all you did awesome.
You did not do as awesome the one night we tried to go out to dinner. You didn't want to sit there, and you let that be known loudly and frantically. We got through it, and you liked your Gulf shrimp; but it was wild.
You had another cold this month, but you didn't develop any kind of secondary infection, so we were very thankful for that.
You're really enjoying your books these days, and you have more patience for something reading to you.
You love avocado, refried ones, and string cheese. You want every single thing on your tray that is on any other person's plate at the table. It's great in my book, because you are trying all sorts of food that is good for you.
You are really a Mommy's girl these days, but you love Spencer and your Dad so much too. You really keep me on my toes, and I so love watching you figure things out and ordering your little world as you see fit.
You are hilarious and you love to do what Spencer thinks is funny or cool. You love to imitate his evil plan laugh, and you always use it in the perfect social context, i.e., if you sneak off to do or get something you know I don't want you to. If I catch you, you look at me and say, "Ah ah aaaaaaah!" with conviction and a giant smile. Then you run away as fast as your little waddle-y run will take you.
You have started saying, "Oooh, man!" whenever you are disappointed. You will say it to yourself if you drop something or can't get something to work right. You will say it to me, through tears, when I tell you "No," or that we're doing something you don't want to do. You say it with all different tones and intonations, but you always use it just perfectly for whatever the disappointment of the minute happens to be.
You still love Barney, and I'm ashamed to say that you've learned many, many age appropriate songs and motions to the songs from that purple dinosaur instead of your mom. You love to sing and act out the song they sing at the end of every episode. It is so precious.
You still love your bottle. Why you couldn't have loved it at 8 months, I'll never really know; but you sure love it now.
You also still love your paci.
Second only to bottles and paci's are babies. We have officially lost the baby doll you got for your birthday, and just today (at 20 months) you brought me its clothes and asked me for it. Nana gave it to you for your first birthday, and you may have to ask for a replacement baby for your second birthday. And I'll insist you leave it at home precisely because you love it so much.
You went with me to Spencer's Easter party, and you thoroughly enjoyed yourself. There seemed to be only months as opposed to years between you and the kids in his class. You loved it so much, in fact, that you persuaded your mom who planned on keeping you home at least one more year that you had to be signed up for Mother's Day Out this fall. Since you're a September birthday, you'll be almost two when it's time to start.
Your second Easter was so much fun. We went to Easter events all weekend, and you discovered that you love candy, particularly chocolate candy, but you even made your way through some Twizzlers in your car seat. It did seem to upset your tummy, though, so while I was happy to throw caution to the wind in light of our risen savior, I was also encouraged in how I usually feed you. Your tummy just doesn't know what to do with all that sugar.
In April, you saw the ocean for the first time, and when it was warm and sunny, you really had fun at the beach. You also loved staying in the condo with family, and you slept in a regular bed much better than you've been sleeping in your crib. You had a few rough nights of being awake too much, but you had a couple nights where you slept all night. Getting you to sleep was hard, and I finally had to just leave you in there screaming. I told you if you got out of bed you'd be "disciplined," and you bought it, "protested" for a bit, and then went to sleep every time--naps and bed time. I wish I had figured this out at the very beginning of the trip, but it was also great to see that you can sleep in a "big" bed whenever we need you to. We did take side rails for the bed, and those are definitely necessary for how actively you sleep, but all in all you did awesome.
You did not do as awesome the one night we tried to go out to dinner. You didn't want to sit there, and you let that be known loudly and frantically. We got through it, and you liked your Gulf shrimp; but it was wild.
You had another cold this month, but you didn't develop any kind of secondary infection, so we were very thankful for that.
You're really enjoying your books these days, and you have more patience for something reading to you.
You love avocado, refried ones, and string cheese. You want every single thing on your tray that is on any other person's plate at the table. It's great in my book, because you are trying all sorts of food that is good for you.
You are really a Mommy's girl these days, but you love Spencer and your Dad so much too. You really keep me on my toes, and I so love watching you figure things out and ordering your little world as you see fit.
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