Wednesday, April 14, 2010 


Contacts though fleeting
Mold me, shape me, pain for me
Releasing the scars

Saturday, April 03, 2010 

Where to begin?

So once again I've treated this blog like a redheaded stepchild, or worse yet, much like my relationship with faith and God, only there when I need it. So....

Looking back it's been almost 2 years since my last post. Things are a bit different. Cman has blossomed and is doing amazingly well. He is very close to testing out of speech therapy, and we will have an IEP review in 2 weeks. He is a straight A student and was elected to Student Council this year. He is obsessed with all things Harry Potter and video game related. He no longer needs his leg braces, and we still go for the yearly neuro visits, which are brief, quick and to the point....kid is fine, see you next year.

LMD is in 1st grade. She is reading, writing, drawing and SOCIALIZING! Girl wears me out with all her playdates and such. She is a good friend with a heart as big as an Arizona summer sky. I call her my sunshine....she brings love and joy with her everywhere.

Which brings us to Youngling, and the reason for my post today. We are rapidly realizing he's....different. Now don't get me wrong, I adore his quiet solemn observations of the weather...."Mother is angry today. Her wind is blowing and biting." I mean, what 4 year old says that kind of stuff? Mine. In my heart that makes him pretty freaking cool. But yet.....

There are the other days. The days when his 4k teacher tells me that he melted down for a full 2 hours and disrupted the entire class. The days when he hits, or pushes, or calls kids names. Or even the days when the phone is noticeably silent, as he begs for playdates like his older brother and sister have. He's 4, I tell myself. Those days will come, I tell myself. He's an active, rambunctious 4 year old boy with lots of extra energy, I tell myself.

And still that's not the whole story. I haven't yet mentioned the nights I cry myself to sleep, wondering if I am the right mother for him. Could I be failing him? He's such a sweet, loving boy who tries his best, yet most days seems to just fall short through no fault of his own. He tries. At times I can see his body quiver from the struggle to comply, to follow, to "be good". Somehow, he just can't.

So, here we are again two years later, more testing, more screening, new IEP to come. I am relieved to know that professionals see what I see....that he's good, that we are doing our best, and that we all need help. I no longer look at myself in the mirror and see condemnation and scorn looking back at me. I see a resilient mother who is trying her best, who loves with her whole being. I see one tough biotch who is finding her stride. And finally, I believe that mom is going to be ok.

Best of all, since she will be ok, so will Youngling. I believe this. I have to have hope.