I love this. It makes me laugh and cry and really symbolizes everything thing wonderful and terrible about life. Hope, excitement, longing, love, and sadness. Life is all these things. And. Life is short. If you look at the clock as the minutes tick away it seems to go slowly. I look in the mirror these days and I see gray hairs. My hands are beginning to hurt. I never knew that age crept up so quickly.
The other night I was washing Fiona's back in the tub because she was under the weather. My hands felt the back of a big kid. Gone are those tiny bones I used to wrestle with in the soapy suds. She felt so sturdy and solid. She felt so close to being big enough to not need me in the same ways she has up until now. It made me feel a little bit sad.
I look at baby pictures of Mackenzie and so much of her babyhood feels like such a blur to me. We've been struggling so much for so long that time goes by and we don't even see it happen. Four years are gone. Not gone in the sense that I didn't experience anything and have nothing to show for it. Gone in that her tiny bones are growing as fast as Fiona's and I may have missed some of it while I was out and about searching for answers.
For 3 years I have wanted to have a tattoo of cherry blossoms done on my back. I have saved the money twice and have had to spend it on vet bills and other more responsible things. I think it is time for me to allow myself to do this for myself. Cherry blossoms. A small reminder of the brevity of life.
In a few weeks, I will turn 40. I met my husband 19 years ago. I have taught for 15 years. I have lived in Hawaii for almost 13 years. I have been a mother for 7 years. I have been the mother of a special needs child for 4 years. The years have been full and wonderful. But they are going very fast. What am I waiting for? And really, what are we all waiting for? Nike says, Just Do It. Perhaps it is good advice.
If you haven't noticed, I adore being a mother. I find parenting a small human to be a special art that one has to perfect and tweak every single day. I have had dreams of teaching actual parenting courses at some point in my life. I think I would be good at it. Maybe some day. Maybe for now, I'll focus on my own and if I don't ruin them...I will share what worked with others roaming aimlessly around the aisles of parenthood.
When it all started, Brian and I took a birthing class. It consisted of 6 weeks of preparing for the big day. Day. One single day. It seemed like a lot of preparation for something that in retrospect went by in the blink of an eye. I was thinking the other day about some things I might teach expecting parents if I were in charge.
For the actual birthing preparation my advice to expectant fathers would be easy. Brush your teeth so when you're in her face breathing like a maniac, you don't piss her off with your dragon breath. Next, wear something other than your Raiders T-shirt please. The pictures you take that day will go down in history.While I'm there...please don't wear a baseball cap. Look like you're at your child's birth and not t-ball practice. Done.
To mothers. Wearing a clothespin on your earlobe while practicing your breathing is simply not helpful. Childbirth hurts like a mother f-er and you just can't simulate it. Sure, the breathing gives you a focus but... My advice is to believe in yourself. Your body was made to have babies. Get an epidural or don't. Either way...that baby is coming regardless of whether you are Hee Hee Ha-ing. Watch "A Baby Story" and you'll be fine.
In our classes we had a lesson on how to diaper a baby. What should have been taught is how to change a baby who has shit up his/her back and is continuing to spew as you remove the diaper. There is an art to removing a onesie withoutsmearing it all over your child on the way up.
Another lesson was having to carry a doll around for the duration of the night's class. What should have been done was teaching me how to carry a 10 or even 20 pound bag of rice in one hand while going to the bathroom, making a sandwich, OK...just all day.
We had a class on how to install and buckle a car seat properly. What we weren't told is that the child we were expecting would eventually arch their body and punch us in the face while we did that simple task. I also was never told that the adorable print on my car seat would soon be saturated with piss.
I would teach these parents how to restrain a child with his/her leg on the floor while brushing his/her kids teeth.
Parents should be taught how to put down a sleeping child in a crib seamlessly. All creaks in the floor should be located and fixed before birth. Two hours of rocking can be spoiled in one faulty step and then the f-word is taught to your child at too young an age.
What about a class titled, "Three Different Thirty Minute Meals". Really...you are either a magician or a darn liar if you sit at a table and always eat the same meal as your kids. It takes talent to pull that off.
I would make sure to include a class on vomit. My memories of vomiting as a child are of me leaned over the toilet with my parent rubbing my back or putting a cool cloth on the back of my neck. I have no memories of vomiting as a wee one. So...none of us are prepared the first time our baby actually pukes. They don't say, "Uh, mom I think I am going to throw up." They just do...no matter where they are. I was not prepared when it happened. The parents in my class will be ready.
I think it should be mentioned that although it is great when your child is stable enough to sit in the shopping cart, it isn't forever. One day you will actually have to shop with two kids walking next to the cart. Octopus hands will grab every glass bottle on the shelves. "Clean up on aisle 5" has been heard over the intercom several times in my life as a mom.
At the end of my dream parenting course I would be sure to add that your heart will function in ways you never thought it would. You won't love your children in the conventional way that love works. It is a different kind of love. Very unlike the love you have for anyone else. It is a love that makes you stare at your children until you cry. You will find yourself sniffing their hair when you hug them. You will open their door at bedtime just to look at them. Your clothing will be covered with food and unmentionable fluids and you won't care. I guess it really is something you can't prepare for...but that is up to you to decide.
I got pregnant with Fiona and I read all the books. Yes. The Books. They taught me that at week 10 she should be doing this. At week 24 she should be doing this. By year 2 I can expect that she should be doing xyz. And, pretty much they were right on. You know, those books we buy that we use as our bibles because we don't know what in the hell we're doing? OK, the MW sleep book was actually my bible. I know other moms who would agree.
Mackenzie followed NONE of the books. I tried so hard to follow along on her week long plan like "The Book" said she was supposed to do. But, we kept falling behind. So, I bought a different book. It too was wrong. So, my good friend got pregnant and now owns all the books for her kid who follows the rules like the book says he should.
What if...we got rid of all the expectations of those damn books and just did what we felt was right? What if we followed our instincts and just let life guide us in the right direction? Really. Think about it. How many of you readers are wearing a diaper and sucking on a pacifier? How many of you still sleep with your mom? How many of you think broccoli is evil poison? None right? OK, broccoli may still freak some of you out but you just haven't discovered ranch dressing yet. My point is...all the things that society makes us feel like bad parents about disappear like they are supposed to. Some go away because we follow "the book". Some go away because time changes us and we replace our needs with new things.
I have had to learn that my Mackenzie does not follow the rules like the book says she is supposed to. She spits on those books. She will one day write the book for kids who don't follow the book. And...we're making it. We're doing it in a different way and she surprises us every day. I just have different expectations for her. Fiona was sleeping in panties by 2 1/2 and I bet Mack will still be in a pull-up at night in kindergarten. So what? Fiona was able to drink from an open cup at the table very early. Mack throws it across the room and still uses a sippy cup. So what? Fiona's pacifier flew up into the sky on a balloon at 2 1/2. Mackenzie can't go anywhere without her "Bygee" (blankie). So what?
My plan is to focus on what they need now and worry about the rest later. I will continue to push broccoli at dinner time in a friendly way because as much as I think dark leafy green vegetables are important...I also think a calm happy family dinner is important too. I say that like I have had a calm happy dinner recently. Ha.
You know, I never really thought about the fact that all those kids I have considered to be "different" have had a mother standing behind them. Well, at least until recently. Have you? We all go through our childhood hanging out with kids who are most like us and occasionally befriending someone whom we consider different. When we get to middle school we become a little less tolerant of differences and sometimes just downright mean. By high school many of us outwardly pointed out others' differences and began to separate and avoid "them". As I went through each of these phases, I never once thought about who that person really was and I think I was a pretty caring young person.
What I have recently experienced is what that whole process looks like from a mother's point of view. And I'm only at the beginning of it. It scared me. Here's how it went.
We are standing in line for a huge bouncy house water slide. We= Mack and I. Fiona has already ditched us and is off with her friends sliding and sliding. First, Mack is one of the younger people in line. I have to show her how to get in line and I have to work pretty hard to keep her still enough to keep her place in line. She is barking, shouting, spinning, and just generally making a scene. Kids are looking at her. Kids are laughing at her. Kids are making fun of her. I'm standing there in horror. She makes it to the front of the line, climbs the slide alone (amazing the slide operator), and then cracks up as she makes her way to the bottom again. I barely survived that. Only now I have about 20 more of those to go.
She does this over and over and each time gets more excited which turns on her noises even more. She is clearly very different than her peers. We are officially out in the world. My kid is the different kid. Shit. I begin to tell children to stop laughing at others because it is mean. I feel defensive. I feel mad. And then. She decides that her swim top is bothering her, so she takes it off. Now she is the different kid- standing in line in her own way- now topless. I thought things were uncomfortable before. Ha. Now I have the same kids staring and laughing but now they are also pointing at her adorable "outie" which is a remnant of a horrible hernia. We have been planning to have it surgically "fixed" once she began school to avoid this type of teasing. I'm standing on a muddy tarp watching my sweet baby become the target of everything I've been afraid of.
It is really hard for me to help Mack navigate through the world and really we haven't even gotten to the hard part yet. So far she has been influenced mostly by her family. We haven't had to add in all the opinions of the world. It frightens me. She is an amazing person. She is sweet and beautiful. She is happy and knows what she wants. I don't want those things to change when kids notice that she marches to the beat of her own drum.
Each phase of a special life is different. Parents of special kids (of course I know all kids are special) have a long road ahead of them because the road always changes direction. Once we get used to how things are...they change. Teaching an inflexible child how to do this takes a lot of work. When I say a lot...you have to really know what I'm talking about to know what I'm talking about. So, we plug along behind our babies as they venture out. Just know that we're back here. We are ready to catch them when they fall- because we know they are going to fall. And. Sometimes they won't. And when they don't,expect a ticker tape parade because we needed a day where they didn't fall.
I conceived Mackenzie in the spring of 2008. Fiona was going to be a big sister and that was so exciting. By the 6th week of pregnancy I began bleeding and I expected to m/c shortly after. But I didn't. We had an ultrasound where Brian and I sat on the edge of our seats waiting to see nothing. There she was. Every beat of that little heart- a miracle. By week 14 I was on bedrest and like the first time we thought we lost her, there she was fighting like crazy. At week 25 she decided she wanted to come. Off I went to Oahu where I spent the next 9 weeks in bed. I was carrying a little girl that lived through the impossible. We knew she was strong. We knew how hard she was fighting. She needed a tough name. Mack.
Mack came at 34 weeks on October 27, 2008. Three pounds eleven ounces of tiny, furry, and fragile love. Almost too hard to look at because your heart hurt too bad. But. It wasn't sad. She'd already survived what we thought was the worst and so we waited until she could suck on her own and we took her home.It has been 4 years. I thought I wouldn't survive those 9 weeks away from Brian and Fiona. Now- four years later I see that I did. Maybe it was her strength I used.
Mack has come with challenges that we wrestle with every day nearly every minute. She takes a lot of preparation and prompting. She needs lots of wipes and soap. She is sticky and messy and fussy about smells and messes. She is quick to flip out and hard to calm. She is noisy and dangerous. She is impulsive and hyperactive. She is larger than life.
However.
Mack is gorgeous. Her blue eyes shine like an ocean that I could swim in forever. Her soft, buttery hair gets stuck in the corners of her mouth when she laughs. And her laugh. I can't even explain how it sounds. She is life. She is someone who has taught me what patience is and what it can be. She has taught me tolerance. She has taught me that one doesn't have to win a medal to be an olympian. She shows me that there are hurdles you can't run around. You have to find a way to get over them. And you can.
We struggle. Every day. Being Mackenzie Rose's family is no easy feat. But I think we do it well. We're going to figure it all out. Eventually.
Tomorrow we will celebrate her 4th birthday. It has been 4 years since she came to this earth to take us on a 4WD ride of our lives. I would change things to make them easier if I could...but what if her challenges are what make her become an amazingly strong and empathetic human being? Perhaps it is all in her plan. Regardless- it is life. We're helping her live it. Or maybe it's the other way around.
I have learned something about determination from my daughter. Recently she came to me telling me that she really wanted to play with her friend "E" but couldn't because she always plays on the monkey bars- and Fi didn't know how. Fiona decided she would learn how to get across the bars so she could play too. I told her that we could go outside every day after school so she could practice alone. And we did. Every day she would walk into my classroom, beg for a snack, and then beg to go out and practice. She would climb up the three yellow steps, reach for the bar, and giggle. She'd get the first bar firmly in her hands and slowly take one foot at a time away from the steps. Then-she would hang. She was too afraid to let go. The next day we practiced dropping. No big deal. Then, reaching for one bar. No big deal. Then, she made it to the second bar and got her first blister. The days went on.
One day she made it to the third bar and shared her excitement with one of my teacher friends on the playground who sweetly cheered her on. Fast forward to the other day when I looked out my window to see a pair of glowing green eyes beaming with pride through my window. "MOMMY, I WENT ALL THE WAY ACROSS THE BARS!" It was as if she'd won a million dollars. She begged me to come watch. I went outside my door and as she stepped up the steps to the bars I heard her friends chanting, "Go Fiona! Go Fiona! Go Fiona!" I'm all tears full of pride for my girl. She makes it to the 4th bar and drops. I clap as though she crossed the valley on the bars. She comes back to assure me that she made it the first time but couldn't do it again.After school I see another teacher friend and her niece outside giving Fiona tips on how to gain momentum by swinging her legs. I am tickled by how many people have cheered her on through this learning experience.
I write about this because I saw a little girl who really wanted to do something. And did it. I saw people support her and show her that once she learns to trust herself she can do the impossible. Can you imagine the possibilities?
Perhaps my journey thus far has not been as spiritual as it would have been with the Dalai Lama, but I think it is a close second. I have been a mom for 7 years. I have learned a lot. About myself. About life. About stain removal.
On September 30, 2005 I gave birth to a 6 pound 13 ounce miracle. She was hard to conceive, hard to deliver, and has been a keep-you-on-your-toes kinda girl ever since. Her doctor said that she could see in Fiona's eyes that she was special...at 2 weeks old. She suggested a book about "spirited children" then too. How on Earth did she know? Fiona has taught me how to appreciate life.
She has helped me learn that it is OK to leave the clothes unfolded and color instead.
She has taught me that all the things I worry about are many times not worth the trouble.
She has taught me that my mother was really not that old and still remembered middle school like it was "yesterday".
She shows me every day that no matter how loud I yell, childhood is going to make me late for work and I somehow survive.
She has altered my hormones so that I cry every time I smell her hair, brush my lips on her soft cheek, or make eye contact with her from across the playground.
She has helped me realize that childhood goes way too quickly. Just like everyone always says...but you just don't believe it until you get through the 2's.
She shows me every single day that the world needs more empathy.
She helps me remember to keep myself healthy so I can watch her grow up to rule the world.
I love being Fiona's mom. I love watching her develop into all the things she is going to be. She wants to be a "mommy, teacher, artist" when she grows up. I love that. She is already an artist. She paints my life every day.
Deciding whether or not to medicate your child is not fun. We have been riding the roller coaster for a long time and we have to do something. Problem is...we can't figure out what is best.
Living with an out-of-control person is also not fun. She isn't out-of-control all the time of course. Actually the other day I saw a glimpse of "normal". She and Fiona were running around the back yard playing a pirate game called, "Captain, Come Back". It was the first time I have ever really seen them play a game with rules before. They had a treasure map and happily ran around the yard completing their pirate tasks. I sat there with tears in my eyes. It was over in 10 minutes, but it gave me hope for my little pirate.
Her team of doctors find her to be a bit of an anomaly. She doesn't present herself as a typical ADHD child so it has been hard to diagnose her (plus she is so young.) Meanwhile, we do heavy behavior modification at home and wait. It is tiring. Tonight she had chicken noodle soup for dinner. The first bowl was thrown on the floor. The second bowl was thrown on the floor. She went to bed without dinner because of a frontal lobe injury mixed with intense hyperactivity. It just isn't fair.
So, we hope to make up our minds soon. The first five years are so important in the development of who you are. It scares me to think of how turbulent the last 4 years have been for her. And...the next 14 for that matter.
This was the title of a book on my mom's bookshelf I used to read when I was a kid. I remember sitting next to her water bed on the floor paging through it all the time. It is a story about motherhood. I thought it was so funny. Do you know about The Rabbit Test? I'll just let you Google it.
Anyway...life with kids. Whoosh. Right? Is it a mom thing? Do dads experience it like moms do? Maybe some do. I haven't a clue. All I know is that my head is spinning lately. We are so busy this year that I am having a hard time finding my bearings. I bet many of you will relate to this as you shuttle your babies from here to there with little respite.
Today I...got two kids ready for the world. Taught kindergarten. Held 6 parent/teacher conferences. Picked up said children and drove them to a 4:00 appointment on the East Side. Drove home. Finished up dinner (that Brian so graciously started). Dishes. Bedtime. Tomorrow...same except once I pick up children I rush them to haircuts before dropping Fiona off for swim team and taking Mack to Costco and then going home to make dinner. Monday and Wednesday are soccer days for Fi and Monday is a therapy day for Mack. Tuesday and Friday are swim team for Fi. Thursday is gymnastics for Mack. There is no free day during the week. I have post it notes on top of post it notes. I was talking with Mack's therapist today about how busy we are and she agreed with me that I have busy children. Keeping busy children busy is important. I wish I had kids who were content to sit more than mine do. But, I don't. I have kids who have energy bursting from their sweet little bodies. We don't sit. We run. We don't whisper. We shout. We don't rest. We crave action. Hence...we live in the car driving around to activities we need to help us spend our energy in positive ways. We took the kids to the fair on Saturday afternoon and Mack got so incredibly overstimulated that her Sunday was ruined. I thought we would have a nice stay-at-home day and play on our new swing set. Wrong. I just put out fire after fire and began searching for places we could go to spend our energy. We ended up at the park riding our bikes and trikes off the path straight down the grass hills. The more dangerous route. It's how we roll. Can I add that since Brian and I have removed animal products from our diet, cooking dinner with this schedule is kind of a nightmare. Gone are the days of fish-stick tacos. No more frozen pizza. No quick salmon burger. Now I have to be creative to find "vegan" things I can cook in a pinch without eating pb&j every damn night. I'm totally fine with our choice and we're both reaping the benefits but I do miss the convenience of eating like shit. Once again, I toast all of you parents. Life is hard to keep up with.
Being a mother is the best job. Of course I cannot compare it to being a father...but I still consider myself pretty darn lucky to be a mom. Everything I truly love in the world is wrapped up in two tiny little warm bodies that dance around on my heart every day. I expected that I would feel that way. I was right.
What I never expected from motherhood were the friendships I have been lucky enough to find as I have traveled around with my kids. I have so many friends whom I have had for almost as long as I am old. I wish I could see them more and I love that FB lets me keep in touch and see pictures of their kids doing silly things like mine. I have friends that I have made while watching my daughters tumble around at gymnastics. I have friends that I met while on bed rest in the hospital. I have friends I have met on message boards whom I have almost begun to think are my long lost sisters. All of these beautiful mothers have become my friends because I have children and because our paths have crossed along the way. All of these mothers support me as I travel in circles finding my way. Time is short these days because of all the new paths we go down each year with our kids. I assume I will meet more mothers along the way. I just thought I'd reflect a little on how lucky I feel for the friends I have.
We're sitting with Mack's therapist the other day discussing her behavior and her behavior management plan. She now gets a "Skittle Moon" (half a skittle) each time she listens to us on the first time. Yes, it is like a Scooby Snack. Of course I am uncomfortable with handing her a candy every time she listens. The doctor informed us that she feels that Mack's problems are not solely behavior based. She doesn't really feel that an ADHD diagnosis is where we are headed. She thinks we are dealing with a brain based disorder. Ug. It was weird to hear that even though we already knew it. I have been expecting ADHD. I have been focusing so much on her behavior that I haven't really stopped to think about what is causing it. She made me think.
TBI. Traumatic Brain Injury. We've heard those words a lot lately. She has had a CT scan that showed two areas of brain injury and I never really did any research once I found that out. I usually read everything I can about those kinds of things. The scan showed an injury in her frontal lobe and some softening of the brain. The frontal lobe is the area of the brain where impulsivity, emotion, judgement, social, and motor function live. It totally makes sense to me now. We have been dealing with her symptoms for so long that I never stopped to look where it is all coming from.
Neuroplasticity refers to the ability to reshape or mold the brain. Luckily, we have this on our side. Mack is young and with training we will be able to help her learn the correct way to behave and in essence reshape her brain. I think this is amazing. We were told by her pediatrician that she would develop around her brain injury and that we would see areas where she would excel as her brain compensates for the injury. Her personality is proof of that. Now, we wade through the tedious process of rewarding her every time she behaves appropriately and hope to help make those behaviors more routine.
We always hope she is going to be OK. On the outside she is just fine. We see strange behaviors all the time that I hope will disappear so she will grow up to be a fairly "normal" kid who has no social challenges. As it is now, she is different. Not all the time. Not in all groups. When we have play dates- I can really see it. She just behaves so differently and I'm a bit sensitive to it.
Even though Fiona thinks it is totally unfair, I am hoping that with every Skittle Moon... we are closer to helping Mackenzie with her struggles.
