I am beginning to wonder what drugs the boy is on this week. There was the whole "let's be up for a few hours in the middle of the night for no reason" that we've already discussed, which means he should have been exhausted the next day. If you were thinking that, you thought wrong. Sam was shocked that I sent him to school, but he was up with the roosters asking for breakfast and ready for school. I wasn't quite so chipper, so I was only too glad to see his van pulling into the drive that day.
I put him to bed an hour early the next night to try to help him make up for the lack of sleep. He was out within 15 minutes (a record for him) but was up at 6:00 this morning. *sigh* There's just no winning with him this week. Today I found out that Imagination Movers is on at 6:30 in the morning. I would rather have had the extra sleep, but that wasn't a choice.
So you'd think that he'd be sooo ready for bed tonight. Again, you'd be thinking wrong. Two hours after he should have been asleep, I heard strange goings-on in his bedroom. Upon going to investigate, I couldn't get the door open. He propped it shut with a chair.
Where does he get these ideas?
I am in a whole lot of trouble with that boy. He clearly displays toddler tendencies in so, so many areas. And yet, his thinking skills can rival that of older children. Just when I think I'm figuring him out, he changes the rules again. I will always be one step behind him, scratching my head and cleaning up his messes.
Life with that boy is never dull. Ever.
Have I mentioned that he had a diaper malfunction today? Yeh. Little round brown things were dropping out of it and falling out his pants leg as he walked across the living room.
You're all so jealous of my life.
Go Ahead And Laugh. I'll Send Him To You To Babysit.
On The Toddler's Bucket List
Things to do in the middle of the night when there's a full moon and your mom would far rather be sleeping than trying to get you go to back to bed.
1. Kick mommy out of bed so that you can take over her pillow.
2. Follow mommy downstairs to continue hassling her.
3. Play with Hot Wheels cars across the hardwood until mommy threatens to not let you live to see daylight in a few hours. For the record, this took one car.
4. Find Woody.
5. Attempt to put a movie in. Mommy reminds you of that threat.
6. Insist on sitting on mommy's lap to sleep.
7. Get off mommy's lap and insist that you be covered with the blanket on the back of the couch. NOW.
8. Kick mommy anywhere you can make contact with her.
9. Lock yourself in your sister's room, making your mom have to knock for admittance (in case of vomiting due to a certain someone being up unexplainedly in the wee smalls) and wake your sister.
10. Investigate the light in the laundry room that mom left on for your brother's sake, who is also up for no reason and may or may not be sick (in his own words).
11. Request a diaper change for a diaper that's neither dirty nor on the verge of leaking.
12. Finally crash at 3 AM after being up for 3 hours.
I'm just hoping that he didn't find any one of these things so fun that he wants to repeat them at 2 AM, because tonight I'm crashing early and probably won't be coherent enough to hear him get up.
Puppies!
Micah loves puppies. Who doesn't, really? We figured out years ago that puppies are as good at motivating the boy to use sign language as food is. (He's a boy, food is a given motivator.) The very first (and subsequently, only) sentence that he signed was Baby Puppy, Please. He has an inborn sixth sense in him that tells him when we have puppies in the house. The other three kids can be milling around the kitchen getting breakfast and be completely oblivious to the fact that a mom-dog is contentedly curled around her brood in the dining room. Not Micah. He wakes up even earlier than usual when a dog whelps and makes a beeline for the kennel containing newborns. We have several crates in the house, and yet he knows which one the unannounced puppies are in. It's a gift.
Micah will beg, plead and sign to hold those puppies. And his gentleness is unparalleled. I have never had to tell him to be careful. He just knows. As the puppies get older, they become even more fun. He can safely play with them because they're mobile. This is the stage where we start locking the kennel door.
This year we seem to forget about that handy little locking feature a lot. I think it's because Micah is in school all day, and we play with the puppies a lot in his absence. When he comes home, he doesn't immediately rush to the wiggly little tail waggers because he has a plan. His plan involves stealth and nonchalance. He will ignore those puppies for days on end, waiting for his chance. And then when the entire family is outside, or upstairs, he will take those puppies on a field trip.
Last week the puppies got to play on the trampoline. We're not sure how they managed to not jump off the edge. Or how he got them out there in the 2.3 minutes he was left alone, but there they were. On the trampoline.
Then they went on a ride in the dump truck. There's nothing like a portable pack of puppies on wheels.
I came in from gardening over the weekend to find this.
Justified
When Micah was granted a wish through the Sunshine Foundation, we had a year to decide what we wanted granted. In that year, we talked about several options, and how Micah should choose his own wish, and how it was unfair that he couldn't talk to voice it. We discussed how cliche it is that families so often choose a trip to Disney, and yet Micah would probably love that. I mean, what kid doesn't dream in technicolor of going to the most magical place on earth? What kid wouldn't love Disney?
And yet, is that what Micah would want? The boy is terrified of costumed characters, but loves amusement park rides. Disney would be appreciated by all our family, but was that choosing selfishly? Oh, the pros and cons.
We stayed by our decision, and I secretly questioned it right up until the day we left. Did I do this for Micah, or for myself? Once in Florida, there was no doubt that we'd made a choice that Micah was happy with. But now that we've been home for several months, and the magic is just a memory, I question again if we did right by our son. One trip, verses something like a pool that he could use year after year...
I have the Disney pictures on the computer as a screen saver. Micah will scroll through them ooh!ing and aaah!ing in appreciation. My desktop wallpaper is the picture of the family with Woody and Jessie. If I have a screen open, he will close it (without saving!) so that he can see the picture that makes him smile. I made a picture book of our trip. Micah will turn the pages and insist that everyone in the house look at this, or that, or even ask to have his picture taken holding the book up, showing me his favorite characters.
My concerns are completely laid to rest. Micah had the time of his life, and that's what granted wishes are all about. Being the parent of a nonverbal child is frustrating. Second guessing what he wants is routine. But it's always nice when your kid tells you that you did the right thing.
Zenned Out
With Becky homeschooled, we purchased a yoga video. This counts for gym class for her, exercise for me, and together time for the both of us. Her friends are now green with envy.
I learned a lot from the video. What's not so shocking is the fact that I am not flexible. I never have been. Age has made that so much worse.
Micah decided to join us on the carpet, and being incredibly blessed with flexibility beyond the range of normal, he rocked the yoga poses. But being an attentive little guy, it wasn't long before he realized that the Yoga Lady had on a full suit of Spandex and he was clad only in a diaper. We have successfully found a way to get Micah clothed. Score one for yoga.
As I was stretching in a lunge with my arms in the air, Micah became bored with the whole let's take this time to be quiet and restful and turned it into WWE! YOU'RE GOING DOWN! as he pushed me from behind, ricocheting me off of Becky. Yoga and wrestling are a single push away from each other. I had no idea.
I can totally do the downward facing dog and the upward facing dog (see me learn new phrases!) but there is no way that I can do that other thing where your knees are facing one way and your shoulders another and your body is screaming to just be put back on the elliptical again for a whole hour instead of this torture. It's shocking what you can find under the couch when you're stuck on the floor and not able to get up.
Micah enjoyed the whole thing so much that he needed Woody to get in on the action, too. He lined up Woody, and Woody, and Buzz, and another Woody, and then there wasn't room on the carpet for me any longer.
I can't say that I'm too upset about this. Me and yoga probably aren't destined to be BFFs. I can clearly see that it's more for the cowboy set.
Look, Ma! A New Word!
So after driving through the Burger King Assembly Line, we divvied out food in the parking lot before venturing out onto the road. I turned around to give Micah his Whopper Jr. with lettuce and onions when I saw him trying to throw his shoe out the open window.
"The heck, boy?!" I said, because I'm a classy mom that way.
To which the boy replied, "gek."
Of all the things that kids will repeat, why is it always the things that they probably shouldn't? And yet, the boy learned a new word today. I can't be mad about that. Thanks in part to apraxia, he'll probably never repeat it, so I'm good.
That will not, however, keep the husband from reminding me of my faux pas.
The Annual "Wow, I Didn't Know That!" Appointment
I'm always surprised what I learn at the Downs Clinic. Weird and random tend to be side effects of Down syndrome. Micah had his annual appointment there today and he spent an hour wowing us with his stellar left-footed kicking skills. He got a new Buzz and Woody ball at Target and was insistent that it come along to the doctor with us. I'm the kind of mom that complies with requests like that.
Thing That I Learned #1 would be that Micah is left footed. You'd think I would know this based on the fact that he also uses his left hand, but you'd be wrong. Mostly because he uses his left hand and his right hand almost equally. Yes, the kid is ambidextrous. But he's left-footed.
Thing That I Learned #2 would be that his teeth grinding is probably an oral stimulant, which a lot of kids with DS crave. This is good to know based on the fact that it's not pain oriented (I seriously was worried about cavities, or molars, or ear pain) but it probably also won't go away any time soon. Or maybe even at all. It's been 2 years of constant grinding and we have grown so accustomed to it that we don't even notice it any longer. For those of you who are just meeting him (let's pretend, okay?) I apologize in advance for the horrendous sound that accompanies my son. And for the fact that we won't do a thing about it because it doesn't even register with us any longer. It's shocking what you can desensitize yourself to.
Thing That I Learned #3 would be that some kids with DS never lose their baby teeth. Some grow a second row of adult teeth in a shark-like fashion and then have to have their baby teeth removed surgically (sounds like a fun day, no?) and some never get big teeth at all. Thankfully the majority of kids follow normal teething patterns and lose baby teeth to have them replaced with big teeth. But the doctor just wanted to make me aware of that weird abnormality because the boy is 7 and doesn't have a loose tooth yet. I appreciate someone giving me a heads-up on weird.
Thing That I Learned #4 is how IQ tests are scored. Because they take your score and compare it to the average population your age, Micah's scores will get lower and lower the older he gets. That is also good to know because I would have been seriously concerned knowing that the boy is growing and learning constantly, and yet scored half what he did when he was years younger.
Thing That I Learned #5 is not related to my visit at the Downs Clinic, but directly related to Thing That I Learned #4. Kids with a mental retardation diagnosis in the state of Pennsylvania are required to have an IQ test every 2 years. This irks me in ways that surprise me, but there it is, and there's little that I can do about it. Making a fuss with the school will only label me as One of Those Moms when they can't do anything about it either. I just think it's the height of insanity, but that's between you and me and anyone else who wants to know. The state, however, could care less. Obviously.
The Perfect Spring Day
In case you live in an area of the country that had more snow than we did, I'm sorry. We still have snow, but it's going away fast and not a single soul is mourning it's loss. Hand up the one who spots the patch of snow in the first picture.
Football is truly a seasonless sport. Football with a trampoline involved really makes the game that much more fun. Have you ever did a bounce-tuck-body slam when you caught a ball?
There are birds! Singing in the trees! And blue skies!
Spring is officially here when the grill is used more frequently than the stove.
The husband tilled the garden today without me even asking him to do it. That tiller there is The Awesome. I sifted dirt through my hands for quite a while after it was finished. Oh, it felt good. It sure beats snow.
And look-it! I was so sure that the flowers died under the 4' of snow on the garden. Of all places for the drift to gather, it had to be over the spring bulbs. But the snow is officially melted and the flowers are alive. THEY'RE ALIVE. And I've got some serious raking to do.
Revelations
So tonight in church we were learning about kids respecting their elders, and how it was relevant at the age of 3 or 9 or even 15. And I instantly started doing math, thinking, "wow, a 15 year old. If I'm 39, and had a 15 year old, I would have only been 24 when I had the child. Huh. Twenty-four isn't all that young. Wait - I HAD a child when I was 24! MY DAUGHTER IS 15 YEARS OLD. Good lands, that suddenly hit home, didn't it?"
And then I realized that I'm way older than I think of myself being. And slapped myself mentally.
Then, later on in the lesson, they were saying about how kids should have respect enough to not interrupt their elders in a conversation. They were giving scenarios on how to teach this, and they were good ones. They were also smart enough to say that every rule needs to be broken, and an emergency would constitute that. The story given that a kid came to his mom, waited a few minutes until she was free to talk, and then calmly said, "there's a fire in the back yard." (True story.) The class facilitator's eyebrows shot up, his eyes bugged out, and I clearly read his thoughts as saying, "Holy Pete! A fire in the yard!"
And then I realized that I wasn't shocked at all, but instead thought, "Huh, I wonder which one of my kids would be responsible for that?" I think that's a sign that I'm a seasoned mother of boys.
It really is amazing the things that one learns at church.
Being One of THOSE Parents
Thanks to you readers, I learned that my genius plan to teach Micah to read is dead-on. I spent an evening making signs for everything in the house, and the next afternoon sticking them on every surface that didn't move. (I tried labeling the dogs but they weren't keen on the idea.)
Turns out, Micah is not a fan of labeling his things. He really could care less if the counter says COUNTER, or the door declares itself to be the DOOR, but he ripped the TV sign off the TV the minute he walked into the living room. And no, we didn't place it in the middle of the screen either. He also tore the FLOOR sign off the floor. (Why yes! We labeled the floor, too! If you're going to do something, do it right or go home.)
There was a day, before Micah was born, that I mocked parents like me. The ones who talked a steady stream into the ear of their newborn, when clearly that newborn could care less if you were reading it the New York Times as you caught up on the news. The parents who overanalyze everything their child does. The parents who go overboard to teach when sometimes just letting a kid be a kid is the best thing for them.
I'm now that parent. The irony is not lost on me.
Some day I may or may not see fruits for my efforts. In the meantime, I'll continue reading my shopping list to Micah in the grocery store, toss the FLOOR sign in the TRASH every time he rips it off the hardwood, and counting my fingers in his presence as if I'm just learning how many I have after 39 years of life.
Turns out, being one of THOSE parents isn't the worst thing in the world. Sure, it's a little crazy here, but it's a happy place. I'm guessing that it's the love driving the craziness that makes all the difference.
What The Husband Learned Recently
Our refrigerator died a sudden and violent death on New Year's Eve. I won't tell you that the husband killed it in cold blood because he really did feel badly about it. The damage was irreparable and we found ourselves at Lowe's at 6:00 PM comparing cubic feet and ice maker options while friends were out partying the new year in. We rock that way.
We had this brand new refrigerator for two months when the little light bulb stopped illuminating the interior, so I did what anyone would have done - I marched my little self to the store, bought a pack of bulbs, and screwed one into the socket. I was not a happy camper when that bulb didn't shine. The repairman was called, because the warranty clearly stated that if we had ANY problems they would come fix it. Even if we thought it was a problem and it turned out to be nothing.
Good thing we had that warranty. It even covers stupid housewives who can't figure out how to screw a bulb into a socket the right way. That was the day the husband learned to doublecheck his wife's work before calling the repairman.
Okay, you've laughed long enough. You can stop now.
It Took Seven Years To Get Answers
Micah had a speech evaluation today by yet another specialist. This one impressed me more than any other specialist I've ever seen for the simple fact that he did research on Micah before I even got there. He knew his patient before he got to meet him. And he actually got me some answers.
The official verdict is what I've suspected for almost 2 years now. Micah has severe verbal apraxia. In addition to that he's battling speech inconsistencies related to Down syndrome, and has a great lack of sensory development at the front of the mouth. The last thing seriously hinders his forming his mouth into shapes to make sounds. And is why he is incapable of drinking from a cup at the age of 7.
In a nutshell, the boy's odds of talking are on the slim side. But the good news is that speech is not an impossibility. It'll take a lot of hard work on his part and ours. And it'll take just as much faith. I'm game, because he's my son. And there are no other options.
The doctor was straight up honest. He said that Micah needs to use his Voice on a regular basis because it'll teach him grammar and sentence structure. He said that we need to raise our expectations of our youngest son and not let him slack in anything verbal. He said that signing isn't a lifelong solution and that he'd need the Voice as a communicative device in the long run.
He asked what expectations I had of Micah's speech in the future. I told him what I'd decided long ago. Micah will talk, but he most likely won't ever speak clearly. He said that was a very realistic prediction.
Can I tell you how good it is to know what problems we're facing? For years I've been looking for answers, and for years I'd been told that he has Down syndrome. I knew it was more than that. I pushed onward, and sought answers, and visited specialist after specialist in my quest.
Finally. I know. And knowing is half the battle.
Has Anyone Seen Normal?
I have found potatoes in the puppy kennel for several days now. Mom-dog must think they make awesome chew toys for her brood, but I am baffled as to where she's getting them. I chalked it up to One of Those Things. And let me tell you, Those Things are happening more and more frequently over the years.
One of the kids caught Micah helping himself to a potato from the 50 lb bag in the pantry and sharing with the puppies. At least there was an explanation as to why they were there, but now we're wondering why Micah thinks potatoes are doggie treats. Back to One of Those Things.
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Our church has a kids club on Wednesday nights. Every year they make shirts for the kids and encourage them to wear said shirts to club every week. That is Micah's favoritest shirt ever. Unfortunately, the shirt disappeared. I found the much sought after shirt in the hall closet behind a stack of towels last week. I won't even venture a guess as to why. Or how. I'm 75% sure who, though.
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My 6:30 AM wakeup call is oh-so-fun. Micah is always happy to oblige (and now thanks to the time change, it's 7:30!) but on the rare event that he sleeps in, he arranges for a backup plan. Last week one day the dog failed to whine at 5 AM to let me know that she had to go potty and instead a lake of brown liquid stench lay in the bottom of her kennel. The puppies had spilled the water dish, making the finest mess known to mankind.
And on Saturday (the day before the time change), when Micah was at Grandma's house, the neighbor called at 6:30 AM. He spied our ponies running amok in the 'hood and was kind enough to let us know. There's nothing like running ponies down at 6:30 AM in your jammies to get the adreneline flowing. And the neighbors talking.
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There was a dead fly on the window sill in the bathroom. Being the stellar housekeeper that I am, it sat there for 2 days before I finally got a piece of tissue to pick it up and dispose of it. After two days of laying there in that same spot DEAD, it had the nerve to wiggle it's legs and try to right itself to get away.
It was probably trying to escape the funny farm. I've been trying for years; it's futile.
Springing Ahead
My kids are early risers. I'd love to whine endlessly about this, but I've always been one myself. Well, that's not true. I was one right up until the kids came along, and now I'm more of a "darn it, it's morning and I have to get up. I wish the baby would have allowed me more than three hours of sleep last night" kind of person.
That whole early riser thing has been a trait of all my kids. I had a friend who was once telling me that she bribed her children to get out of bed at 10 AM by promises of going to the library. That completely boggled my mind. It's something that I just can't comprehend. As my kids get older, they learn to sleep later. The teen is now a late sleeper and will lounge around in bed until after 9. (I know, right?!) But Micah, still stuck in the toddler phase, is also stuck in the "hey, it's light out! I need to get up" phase. I know this because of this little scenario.
Micah has been getting up between 6 and 6:30 for the last few weeks. That's when the sun rises in these parts. I am not fully risen myself at that time in the morning so I generally catch him as he's headed downstairs and ask him to writhe in agony on my bed while simultaneously kicking my kidneys until somewhere closer the 7 AM range. The other morning he filed his official protest by pointing to the sunlight streaming through the blinds. The sun was up, clearly one should no longer be in bed. For being nonverbal, the kid can communicate quite well. Even at 6:30 in the AM.
For this reason, I have always loved Daylight Savings Sunday. I am not losing sleep because Micah is my alarm clock, and his internal alarm has been reset to the Spring Ahead for a few weeks now. This happens every single year. Oh, the joys. This weekend, instead of losing an hour of sleep, my clock told me that I had slept in an hour later than usual. Woo-hoo!
Now I'm just hoping that the Spring Ahead thing is a call to Mother Nature to get rid of our snow. We're still a foot under white at this point. The unfairness of that is worse than losing an hour of sleep. If I would have.
Even The Weather Has a Vendetta Against Me
We have sunshine this week. This makes me ridiculously happy. Happier than I thought I could be kind of happy. I love winter. I love snow. I really do. Spring is my least favorite season of the year because of the mud, and the rain, and the mud, and the rain... Turns out that after a full month of nothing but snow, I'm thrilled to have Spring come. I've been smiling non-stop for days and my face is kind of sore at this point. But it's a happy kind of sore, trust me.
A few years ago, I learned to love Spring for what it brings. The promise of gardening again, and crocus and daffodils peeking through the snow. The smell of Earth and the return of songbirds. I tolerate the mud and rain for those joyous things.
This week of happy-inducing sunshine has melted the snow considerably, but we're still a loooong way from gardening. I'm grateful for the happy-inducing part because I nearly cried real tears over the crocus and daffodils that I wont' see this year. This is what the yard still looks like, mid-March.
The furniture is making an appearance even if the flowers aren't. And look! Tricycle handlebars! And see the patio table to the clear left of the picture? That was completely hidden in a sea of white just last week.
And the trampoline! It's been shoveled off weekly to keep the springs from stretching. The snow was so deep at one point that you had to jump from the bank down onto the trampoline.
The Best Birthday Gift Ever
Last year we bought a car for $300 as a quick fix for the "oh crap, it died!" car so that Sam had something to drive to work. The new ride was quickly dubbed the Barfmobile because of the bubbled, peeling and faded green paint. It truly looked like someone threw up on it and left the chunks there to dry. (You're welcome.) And then, a month or so after we got it, someone backed into me and smashed the door. It was replaced with a door that almost-sort-of matched and we decided that it was good enough. While the car is still in good running condition, it's been replaced with something a bit easier on the eyes. We retired the Barfmobile and had plans of hauling it to the junk yard as soon as the snow melts.
And then Becky had a 15th birthday and we realized that in another year she'd be driving. While I certainly do not think that every new driver should be endowed with a car as a handout from their parents, it seemed a bit silly to get rid of something that runs perfectly fine when in a few years Becky would be looking for a cheap car to buy. But we couldn't very well give her the car because how fair would that be to the boys? And trust me, we aren't going to buy vehicles for each of the kids. Working for something teaches responsibility and builds character, yo.
We had a plan. We'd gift the car to Becky on her birthday, and the boys would each get a key as well. It was gifted to the kids, not just Becky. Most kids would be mortified at the thought of driving the Barfmobile, but they've got a year (or more) to fix it up and they're just thrilled that they've got a car of their very own. Except Micah. Micah got a key. As far as he's concerned, it's the Key That Unlocks The World.
Micah tried his key in the supply closet at the hospital, in the MRI door where Daddy was working, in the van door AND ignition, and in the house door. His key is magical, I tell you. Magical! When he's not proudly holding it in his hand, he's patting it as it reposes in his pocket. Becky's birthday rocks. He got a key.
A Decade And a Half Ago
There's something about the firstborn's birthday that brings the nostalgia front and center. I think it's because all vestiges of parental innocence were stripped away when Becky was born. The visions of a newborn quietly sleeping after a perfectly burped meal were replaced with projectile vomit, explosive diapers, rashes that defy human understanding, and colic in the wee small hours of the night.
The OH MY WORD, WHAT ON EARTH DO I DO WITH THIS NEWBORN stage was quickly replaced by the teenage years. We blinked. It's getting to the point that I'm afraid to close my eyes at all.
Fifteen years ago today, I was threatening the life of the poor Army intern in the maternity ward. I have often thought of that boy over the years. Did he become a eunuch? Did he go AWOL? Did he beg his recruiter to change career fields?
Fifteen years ago today the temps in Alaska registered somewhere around negative thirty. Fifteen years ago today, the Northern Lights danced; not just in the usual green, but in a rainbow of colors in celebration of the birth of our baby girl.
Fifteen years ago today our lives changed forever in ways that we never imagined. All for the better. Parenthood rocks.
Happy birthday, Becky.
Nothing Like Snuggling Down with a Good Book
The school's semi-annual Book Fair was today. Luke, ever the scholar, lives for Book Fair days. Me, the avid reader, will fork over cash quickly for kids to buy books they love. Luke came home a happy kid, eager to show me his newest tomes. My heart swelled with pride.
Luke spent all his free evening time with his book in his hand. He regaled me with what she said, and what he was doing, and why Mrs. Such and Not did that. As his bedtime approached, I thought of a creative way to secure his cooperation with little fussing.
"You know what I like to do, Luke? I love to sit in bed and read. It's much quieter and very comfy. If you go get ready for bed quick, you can read in bed until I tell you it's time to turn off the light."
He agreed that it was a grand idea, and ran upstairs to don pajamas and snuggle down with his book. Score one for mom; see me be genius.
When it was his for-real bedtime, he came downstairs to get a drink and tell me goodnight. "You're right, mom! Your bed was comfy. Thanks for the suggestion."
Yeh. See me be genius.
Oh, the Entertainment
I'm standing at the bathroom counter, applying make-up before heading out into the world. Micah is always interested in the goings-on of Mommy primping, and is present at the event any time that he can be. It's his age. All the kids took their turn with the fascination. Painting, no matter the medium, is fun. Such interesting colors, so much to touch, so much that they shouldn't. Temptation is great.
I've tried lightly tickling Micah's cheeks with my brushes, but he'll have none of it. The sensory issues probably prohibit his toleration. His stubbornness plays into it even more. If he can't do it himself, he'll most certainly not have someone else do it for him.
He watches, he imitates with his fingers, careful not to actually touch the make-up. He loses interest after painting one cheek and his lips and moves to the other side of the bathroom. I watch out of the corner of my eye, quietly waiting to see what he'll find to get into.
The toilet paper spins so nicely every time his hand touches it. The tail of the roll gets longer and longer. I finally have to ask him to stop. He complies by tearing off the part that's been unrolled, holding it at length, and slowly lowering it into the toilet.
Flush.
And that explains why I buy a mega pack of toilet paper way more often than I should.
Saturday Shots
And In Another World...
You'd think that having Micah's Voice would make life so much easier for all of us, but you'd be thinking wrong.
Micah's Voice has taught me that the boy is messed up in the head. The boy asks for APPLESAUCE but really doesn't mean applesauce. When he asks for applesauce, he wants a pizza sandwich. I tried showing him how to find the PIZZA button on the box with words, but he's insistent that it's APPLESAUCE that he wants, even though he clearly doesn't want applesauce and is getting all the ingredients out for a pizza sandwich.
It eventually dawned on me that pizza sauce and applesauce are both in glass jars in the fridge, and in Micah's mind, APPLESAUCE covers the glass jar. The glass jar is a much-needed ingredient for pizza sandwiches. I can argue until I'm blue in the face, but I won't change his mind.
The other morning Micah asked for PIZZA. I was all kinds of impressed that he finally learned to ask for pizza when he wanted it, but then he went and popped my delusional bubble. PIZZA, in Micah's world, means nacho chips, because he got out the Ranch dressing. (What, you don't dip your nachos in Ranch?) So instead of Micah learning something, I'm the one struggling to keep up with new ideas. It's like he's reinventing language.
That morning, as the kids were off school on account of the inch-an-hour snow and Olympic-speed winds, Micah broke out of his usual requests for food to comment SEASON SUMMER. While I'd love to think that he's asking for warmer weather to find it's way into the Laurel Highlands, I'm thinking he's just commenting on the weather.
The question is, is the boy genius in his ability to remember what everything is in his opporite world that he's got going on, or is he just that confused by the world that he lives in? We may never know.
It's a Very Special Kind Of Day
It's one of those special days, the kind that numbers-oriented me loved as a kid. March 3rd, written on school papers as 3-03. Ooooh, the fun. And I was geeky enough to make special mental note when it would be 3:03 PM on 3-03.
Go ahead, laugh. And know that it still fascinates me. I love numbers. I also love math. And now go ahead and hate.
Seven years ago this date became forever part of my history, and ironically, it was the year 2003. That made Micah's birth date 3-03-03. He was born at 6:06 AM. That just adds to the fun.
Today my baby is seven years old. There is very, very little left of my baby in him, but he will forever remain my baby just the same.
Sometimes I Have Revelation Moments
Sometimes I'm not the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Tonight I had a revelation that should have been obvious a very long time ago, but I just didn't see it.
Micah is a smart kid. There is no way of knowing exactly how smart he is, but everyone who's met him agrees that his cognitive wheels are turning.
Micah has no interest in academic learning. I don't know if it's just not his thing because he's more hands-on than he is bookish or what, but it's a concrete fact that he and school work aren't compatible.
And yet, Micah can read. I know that he can because he reads movie titles. He refuses to keep things in cases, so VHS tapes and DVDs are just out there alone with no pictures on boxes of what they are. Despite this, he can shuffle through his collection and pick the one that he wants. And just today I watched as he matched up the Mary Poppins VHS with it's box and put it away. See? That was a two-fold reason to rejoice.
My boy, making me proud every day.
So this evening as I had a moment of reflection on his mad reading skills, my light bulb shone a little brighter. What if I'd make a little book with pictures of our family, and our dogs, and things around him that he knows and loves, and then wrote in big bold letters underneath the pictures what or who was pictured. Would he look at it? Would he learn? Would he recognize our names like he recognizes his when he sees it written? Could he learn to read by sight words alone? Could I make a whole book of sight words to teach him? And how, then, would I teach him to read abstract words like the and and.
It's an idea. For better or worse is yet to be determined, but I have to try. It's my obligation as a mom.
