home

Well, the time is here, we are moving this week.  Tomorrow is our last day here.  G and A already headed up north with Grandpa and Grandma for the weekend.  Their last night spent at the only house they've known already done.  Nolan and EJ are sleeping now and all is quiet.  The last night I will put babies to sleep in this house that I put our first baby to sleep almost exactly 7 years ago.  It's odd how an object or space can hold so many precious memories and seem to keep them alive.  Like when you drive through an area of your past and you can see your younger self almost perfectly.  I hold memories like still photographs.  I can visualize the blue shirt that Jeremy wore when we brought Graham through the door and toured him around his new house.  I remember the first night we slept here I was 2 weeks from giving birth and Emy our dog and I lay on the floor on a mattress waiting for furniture.  I dreamt of filling this house with babies.   I dreamt of every room the colors they would be and accessories to adorn the shelves and walls. 

I can picture taking our first vacation as parents and walking slowly up the stairs to see Graham- 9 months old at the time, hanging on to the railing- standing- standing up for the first time smiling as he greeted our familiar faces.  It feels as if those tiny little finger prints are forever etched in that grain.  I can see painting Audrey's room 3 times for the perfect pink only to end up with beige!  Bringing her home and rushing into her room at all hours of the night, not because she awoke, she slept 8 hours straight the night home from the hospital!  But, because I kept thinking I was dreaming and she wasn't really mine, that perfect, pink bundle.  I rocked her endlessly as I nursed and stared out the window of her room at the dim streetlight on the corner.  I dreamt of our future together, her and I and we talked about life lessons.  She was and still is the most beautiful child inside as well as outside.  When she was born she looked at me with the most peaceful, calm, gentle eyes, our sensitive girl. 

I remember our sweet Emy lying on the back of the couch "tanning" in the sunshine, cuddling under our blankets in our big bed.  I remember running with Emy for the first time, that I ever ran that is, and listening to music in the woods behind our neighborhood.  She ran so effortlessly and the train horn of the Zephyr slowly chugging by, her and I found peace and strength in those woods.  We lost our sweet Emy in this house, I remember her first seizure here.  The sound of her body thumping against her kennel in our room.  The foam from her mouth and her dazed, crazed look for hours after.  It was terrifying.  I miss sweet Emy girl.  We were going to lay her ashes to rest behind our house in those woods, but I just never could.  I didn't want to leave her here, so I still have them, 3 years later.  I am glad I waited, G and A still talk about her and want to lay her to rest with us. 

I remember the day that the news came of Nolan and that infamous phone call from the genetisit, three days before his birth.  We pulled up to this very house.  Shaking.  A pink balloon honoring a sweet girl that tragedically died in our community was swaying int he breeze from the pillar on our porch.  I untied it slowly.  I can see my hands doing it now.  I can see Jeremy sitting in our living room chair, in the dark.  Silent.  Still.  Shocked.  Tears stream down my face because that pain is still so tangible.  I don't access that place often, but that visual will always remain. 

I take baths like others take showers.  It's my thing.  I have rubbed four pregnant bellies and visualized four baby's lives in our bathtub.  Four babies have taken baths in that bathtub.  "Mama's bath" as it's known around here.  The "kids" bath no one ever wants to go in.  Wouldn't you know that bathroom is rather useless around here, it's a good thing we are building two "kids" baths at the new place, HA!  Either way, I have dug out legos from the drain, picked horse hooves out of my hair as I laid my head back, might have thrown a buzz lightyear across the room after a long mom day.  Oh the memories of that bathtub. 

I can tell you the exact 6 inch square of carpet in which Nolan did his inch worm crawl.  The exact inch where he said, "mamama" for the first time.  Where I was sitting and running down the stairs when my doctor rang the door bell to tell me about EJ.  Where I stand every day to see Graham at the bus stop.  Where Audrey strums her guitar and plays her "cd" music.  Exactly where Audrey climbs up on the stools for breakfast everyday.  How proud she was the first time she could reach the sink.  Graham's first day of school and how proud he sauntered up the bus steps and also THE day that he refused to get on the bus and was kicking and screaming MAMA MAMA MAMA while the door closed and the bus pulled forward, it was this house that saw the tears streaming steadily down my face.  My back appeared stoic. 

The memories pain me, make me feel like I am never leaving this house.  I can NEVER leave all that I have learned, loved, cried, lost and gained in these walls behind.  And yet I am.  We are.   Something you may not know about me, I love moving.  Like literally love it.  I thrive on change and uphevel.  I like purging junk and re-organizing.  I don't care where- I just love it, would move every year if I could.  That is until now.  The first place since my childhood that I lived this long and more importantly, this was my first home.  Sure Jeremy and I had a previous house, together, no kids.  But, this was our home.  It's part of us and our hearts forever. 

My uncle bought a house a couple of weeks ago that we are renting.  It was built in 1865.  I have been building it up to the kids because it looks like we may be there awhile.  Did I mention I shouldn't be building a house because I like change so much and that includes I can't stop messing with the floor plan, seriously, can't stop.  Anyway, I have been pumping the kids up about living in an old house, a piece of history.  Graham is ecstatic since he looked up who was president and found out Abe Lincoln himself was around and basically that means he lived in MN in THIS house.  We have talked about the claw foot tubs and why are they called claws?? Um, not sure.  I was moving some shit, oops I mean copious amounts of toys today and walking their rooms, deciding what was going to go where to have the movers ready.  I was thinking about the little girl and boy that left their hand prints on the concrete.  The memories they made in that house.  How that is their home.  I spoke- yes I realize totally insane and a little creepy- and told the house we would take care of it- we would fill it with love and a little bit of crazy.  The kids saw it last night and went bollistic, shouting from every room how cool it was (yeah it isn't cool), but it is to them.  To them it's new and exciting and change is fun! 

I have been consumed with whether or not we will not be in our house before Christmas and I just keep telling myself.  Who cares? The kids don't.  What I have realized with kids moving anywhere with them is home.  Wherever we are, big or small, new or old, dirty or clean.  As long as we have each other we will be home. 

testing testing 1-2-3

In the world of special needs one conversation that you inevitably face is testing for the dreaded IEP.  I have heard about it since my very first "support" group meeting when I had one tiny innocent three month old baby.  There are many pre-concieved notions that go into this process because you are fed many tidbits of information by numerous caring, concerned parents in similar circumstances.  I absorbed all of this info, whirling in my head, will they push him, will he be distracted, will he be scared because it's in a strange place, will he feel like it's torture because it's an hour over the course of two-three times?  Do I want to hear the results?  THE results of what your child can and can't do neatly summarized into printed out white sterile sheets of paper.  Does this make my child? Does this break my child? Does this mar him for his future in school because if he is awful than the expectations are too low, if he is awesome than is the bar too high? Is there ever too high?  You see, lots of thoughts and questions swirl in this world.  This microcosm of parenting with a special needs child.  Add in the stress of have you done enough up until this point? Shit I haven't even worked with him on pointing to objects in photos, why didn't I do that more? Come on Nolan- you grab your cheerios with a pincer grasp every DAY!  Oh good he knows his shapes, oh crap you want him to do it within a certain time and he has to repeat it FOUR FRIGGING times??? CRAP oh CRAP.

It's what I was expecting, those feelings.  They were there, I am not going to lie.  I sat there justifying to myself that of course he wasn't going to repeat it perfectly, he hasn't done it before.  And we are in a strange place and now someone he doesn't know is asking him things and he can't stop staring at her.  This isn't fair ran through my head a brief moment and then I stopped.  I stopped it all.  I sat there still and though to myself.  No this isn't what it's all about.  This is a fricking test, just like Graham takes and Audrey will take and they will also be measured and no one will care if their dog died the night before, or they just got over puking or I screamed at them that morning.  It's life.  And I felt better.  I realized Nolan is in this world of life and the real world just as they are and truth be told you do have a time limit and you do have to sit still and focus when you don't want to.  You do have to listen to strangers and go into weird rooms and sit in different chairs.  It's harder for him, yes.  But, life won't change for him, won't mold to his brain or his time frame.  Trust me old people and parking spots don't hurry for my world either.  It's life.  And instantly I felt better, this doesn't have to be stressful and agonizing, this is just another hoop and another aspect of Nolan that is different, not worse, not better, different.  The rest of the time, I smiled, knowing his accomplishments are well earned and his teachers pride filled that room.  I smiled because he had an exceptionally adorable outfit on and his hair was curling in the humidity, shallow but truly precious.  I smiled because as I walked out of there, I didn't hang in shame or frustration or anger, I rose to being his mama and knowing when he needs me to kick someone's ass I will do it, but so far he's doing just fine.  It felt good and also I have appreciated for ONCE in my life my realistic attitude, ok fine some say it's pessimistic, but I don't.  I know each of our children's limitations and I think that's fine, it prepares all of us for when they fall and instead of sitting there with my mouth stuck open I can simply wrap my arms around them and say it's ok they are awesome just as they are.  After all, who really cares if you can stack 5 blocks or 7?

Your kid's a loser

Got your attention? Winner and loser have that ability a simple label that means so much in so many ways.  Graham's baseball season started this year and for those that don't know the history, here's a little background.  Jeremy loves sports and competition and truth be told, so do I.  We always fantasized about a boy that was ALL boy, that loved sports.  Graham has his own ideas, always had, no I mean seroiusly since womb, that kid has been an originial.  Most mom's will gripe about their boys non-stop physical agression and overly loud obnoxious behaviors, not Graham.  He's calm, calculated, percise, our thinker.  I saw him squish an ant with his flip flop once and was shocked, as he truly coined the phrase, "he won't hurt a fly."  I worry about that with G, he has such empathy for others, a truly compassionate, gentle heart and I worry that being a boy in our society, that may be tough for him.  In fact there is a boy in school that Graham has befriended and his teacher lovingly called us because it's preventing Graham from playing with his other friends.  You see every time Graham tries to this boy gets upset and cries and Graham tries to tell him- 'let's all play with everyone', but the boy won't and so Graham stops and goes and plays with him, because no one else will and he feels badly.  I have talked to him numerous times about how he can't control others choices and it's wonderful that he tries to help him, but ultimately he has to make that choice and enabling the boy isn't helping him learn that isn't how to make friends.  Life lessons are hard and often times painful. (Trust me- I get that) It's a hard balance teaching your kids to care for their needs, but also those around them.  But, Graham also has a boat load of confidence and he can be bossy, assertive, domineering and stubborn.  Just not physcially.  So, I didn't know if our (little)big boy was going to want to even play baseball let alone twice a week.  Jeremy insisted that he wanted to do this with him and he was doing it.  I reliqueshed control, a rare occurance, and again, Jeremy was right.  Well, kind of.  Graham is no all-star althete, quite the contrary.  But he is trying, working hard, getting out there, doing something outside his comfort zone and it's awesome to watch.  Nothing gives me greater pride than our kids pushing themselves outside of their strengths.  As proud I am of Graham and his academic accomplishments, when I see him working so hard on baseball I tear up.  Because he was born gifted with a great brain, that's easy for him, and that's great.  But working on something, earning it, that is a true accomplishment.  He is so seroius, too serious of course, in his position, whatever that may be that inning.  He listens, while other boys are running around in circles, Graham won't leave his "ready" position. 

He asks all game long, along with the other boys on the team, "Who's winning?" "Are we winning?".  And there in lies my problem.  There are no winners??? WHAT?  No losers??? WHAT??? Who came up with this cockamamey crap??? Life is winning and losing.  LIFE is learning to cope with being a LOSER when all you want is to WIN!  It sucks.  It's not a fun lesson to learn, but OH so important to learn it.  I have failed to understand or empathize with ANY theory that be presented to me of why your kid can't be a loser.  Your kid is in fact going to one day be a loser!  It's a fact.  And to delay that implying that one day it will be easier for them, I just don't believe it.  I think the sooner that lesson be learned the better.  People who know us know this.  Because don't think for a minute we let our kids beat us at candy land or war or zingo...oh no, we WIN.  And trust me when they finally, inevitably do win, wow is it a sweet victory.  There will always be winners and losers in our house.  More important that ANYTHING else to us is that they learn to be losers.  Maybe because I am a horrible loser.  The worst kind, excuse making, challenging a another match instantly or plain out refusing to play said game for risk of losing again!  ICK!  Who wants that?  Our rule is, you lose and you congratulate the winner, you are happy for them too.  They got to win and that's fun and you keep trying for your turn in the sun.  If you try and try and try you too shall win someday at something.  Not everything, not everytime and certainly not EVERY game of baseball. 

I just can't wrap my brain around it.  If you are afraid the kids in baseball will get slaughtered and lose every game- which isn't likely, since really none of them can play.  The swing would likely be a couple of plays actually made causing a player to get out and costing a run or two.  But, why call it a game?  Why not just run drills and skills and have one game/show at the end of the year like gymnastics does at Audrey's age?  What bothers me, is the kids are now losing that drive.  They are beginning to ask less already, care less and it bites.  Truly, because I like healthy competition.  I think it's good for all of us, keeps us trying and doing our best.  But, to tell everyone you are awesome and great just because you stand there and not separate any of that out? That is just plain ridiculous.