*Apologies for not posting in over a month. We have been super busy around here!
Dictionary.com states the definition of retain is to hold in place or position, but I had to search for that one. The other definitions I found used the example of holding a prisoner in custody... which made me cringe. Then there are the countless articles on the devastating results of retention, essentially insinuating that a child who is retained will actually become a menace to society and, in fact, the prisoner from the other definitions. Why the search for this word and this topic?
Evander and I had a large decision weighing on our hearts and minds about our oldest. About mid-year through first grade, we noticed that he wasn't progressing. After attempting various strategies and plans, I met with the teacher to ask about retention. Being the teacher she is, I got the typical teacher answer (which I myself have given). That answer holds statistics of drop outs, bullying, and the final zinger "How do you know that things will change if he repeats the same grade?"
After praying and pondering that question with my teacher hat on, and then my parent hat on, I was stuck. I was stuck until I began to listen to Bubba as the start of school was looming over his head. I overheard comments like:
"I'm nervous."
"I wish I could stay in first grade."
"I'm scared I'm not going to do good in second grade."
"I'm very worried I won't make good grades."
The remarks went on and no amount of reassurance from me or dad changed his feelings. That is when Evander and I revisited the topic, and here is our conclusion.
Do we know that things will change? Absolutely not. Do we know that he will gain all of the knowledge he needs for 2nd grade the second time around? Absolutely not. Do we know our child better than a teacher? You better freaking believe it!!!
With that in mind, we will be retaining Bubba this year. He is struggling, and he even recognizes it. We also recognize that this is our once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, and we want to take it. I don't want to see him fail second grade and then be forced to repeat when all his classmates are aware of grades and what "failing" actually means. He is also better socially with younger children.
We told Bubba last night that he would be staying in first grade and he was elated! He could not have been happier to hear he was staying, and his attitude toward school has immediately changed. He is now wondering who his classmates will be and if he will get to see Baby at recess. His reaction further solidified our decision.
Parents know their children better than anyone else on this Earth, and don't second guess that. Go with your gut and do what you feel is best for your child.
Wednesday, August 14, 2013
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
The Lake
The gentle breeze mixes the smells of newly fallen pine straw and fresh fish as it blows across the otherwise still water. The faint sounds of crickets chirping and frogs croaking seem to provide the perfect background music for the evening as the sun begins to disappear behind the trees in the distance. Just as the sun slips out of sight, the ever-so-slight buzzing of a mosquito can be heard, but it isn't enough to make me retreat.
I'm not sure that I can pinpoint one particular thing that I love about the lake, because I have so many. I love the way that no one worries about the bugs but just accepts them as part of the territory. I love the way that everyone stops at the pier to say hello as if it were the corner store or waves in the distance like we are long lost family members, and I love that those people haven't showered in days... just like me. I love that there is no pretense, no expectation. I love that my children love it just as much as I do.
I have never been happier than to see them spending the week just being kids. They tubed, fished, knee boarded, and swam. They learned to ski, which I am so proud of them for. (Water skiing is another love of mine.) They collected bugs, snails, pine cones, moss, and all sorts of crazy things. There was rarely a moment during the week that they begged for tv, iphones, or dvds, even during the rainy days. They watched fireworks, rode the boat in the rain, and played in the mud.
I am so thankful to have had this little slice of heaven my entire life, and I am thankful that my children share my feelings and my experiences. The sun rises on another day at the glassy lake as I take in the gentle breeze full of the smells of fresh fish and newly fallen pine straw.
I'm not sure that I can pinpoint one particular thing that I love about the lake, because I have so many. I love the way that no one worries about the bugs but just accepts them as part of the territory. I love the way that everyone stops at the pier to say hello as if it were the corner store or waves in the distance like we are long lost family members, and I love that those people haven't showered in days... just like me. I love that there is no pretense, no expectation. I love that my children love it just as much as I do.
I have never been happier than to see them spending the week just being kids. They tubed, fished, knee boarded, and swam. They learned to ski, which I am so proud of them for. (Water skiing is another love of mine.) They collected bugs, snails, pine cones, moss, and all sorts of crazy things. There was rarely a moment during the week that they begged for tv, iphones, or dvds, even during the rainy days. They watched fireworks, rode the boat in the rain, and played in the mud.
I am so thankful to have had this little slice of heaven my entire life, and I am thankful that my children share my feelings and my experiences. The sun rises on another day at the glassy lake as I take in the gentle breeze full of the smells of fresh fish and newly fallen pine straw.
Wednesday, June 12, 2013
How I Do It...
"Oh my... ALL of these are yours?" asked the strange woman at the park. "Well... I don't know how you do it! I only have one and I can barely keep up!" This is an all to common reaction to our family of four young children. I'm not sure that it is the number of children or the disbelief of the closeness of their ages that gets people, but I always give a half-smile and say "I guess we are just crazy!" which is what everyone wants you to admit anyway.
My admittance of crazy allows some to breath a sigh of relief and others can relax their unconsciously tense muscles. The truth is, though, that I don't think we are crazy at all... they are. So many parents in our society have taken to the comparison game in order to feel as if they are competent parents. With the addition of social media sites, it has skyrocketed to a whole new level.
Mothers today believe if they don't feed their children GMO-free, 100% organic, home cooked meals in the shapes of farm animals at every meal, they must be a failure. If they don't have a Pinterest-inspired birthday party with matching take home arts and crafts, their child will go on to live a life of crime. If every single activity is not finished off with a "participation" trophy their children will become outcasts of society, opting to wear a trench coat in place of their sports uniform.
SO... you want to know how I do it? I just do it! I don't lose my mind on Pinterest or schedule every moment of my children's lives. I cook healthy meals, but I'm not afraid to pull out the chicken nuggets and frozen pizza when necessary. I am confident in the knowledge that I know what is best for my children, and do not listen to the crazed opinions of others. I pray aloud and read bible stories to them, but I also let the occasional curse word slip... and apologize for it.
I let them know that there are things I don't know (instead of racing for my phone), and there are times for them to play alone. I tell them I am sorry if I raise my voice and am honest beyond compare. They know that the shots will hurt and death is really sad. They know that nothing makes me happier than to see them getting along, and nothing makes me more angry than being dishonest.
How do I do it? I am just me, and I encourage them to be just them. I want them to see that no one is perfect, and it takes a village. I am only human, so I make mistakes, I cry, I am late, I laugh, I fall, and I do the best I can every single day.
How do I do it? I pray to God every single day, in good times and terrible times, to thank him for this amazing family He has given me. I give it all up to Him and know that He is in control. He has trusted me with these amazing tiny people, and I am so grateful. I better no mess this up!
My admittance of crazy allows some to breath a sigh of relief and others can relax their unconsciously tense muscles. The truth is, though, that I don't think we are crazy at all... they are. So many parents in our society have taken to the comparison game in order to feel as if they are competent parents. With the addition of social media sites, it has skyrocketed to a whole new level.
Mothers today believe if they don't feed their children GMO-free, 100% organic, home cooked meals in the shapes of farm animals at every meal, they must be a failure. If they don't have a Pinterest-inspired birthday party with matching take home arts and crafts, their child will go on to live a life of crime. If every single activity is not finished off with a "participation" trophy their children will become outcasts of society, opting to wear a trench coat in place of their sports uniform.
SO... you want to know how I do it? I just do it! I don't lose my mind on Pinterest or schedule every moment of my children's lives. I cook healthy meals, but I'm not afraid to pull out the chicken nuggets and frozen pizza when necessary. I am confident in the knowledge that I know what is best for my children, and do not listen to the crazed opinions of others. I pray aloud and read bible stories to them, but I also let the occasional curse word slip... and apologize for it.
I let them know that there are things I don't know (instead of racing for my phone), and there are times for them to play alone. I tell them I am sorry if I raise my voice and am honest beyond compare. They know that the shots will hurt and death is really sad. They know that nothing makes me happier than to see them getting along, and nothing makes me more angry than being dishonest.
How do I do it? I am just me, and I encourage them to be just them. I want them to see that no one is perfect, and it takes a village. I am only human, so I make mistakes, I cry, I am late, I laugh, I fall, and I do the best I can every single day.
How do I do it? I pray to God every single day, in good times and terrible times, to thank him for this amazing family He has given me. I give it all up to Him and know that He is in control. He has trusted me with these amazing tiny people, and I am so grateful. I better no mess this up!
Wednesday, June 5, 2013
Still miss you...
It has been a little over 2 years since my father passed away, and I still miss him desperately. I would love to call him and ask how to repair the drywall in the garage or how he thinks we should remodel the bathroom. He always enjoyed doing things around the house, and I think he secretly enjoyed when I asked his advice on how to do something in my own home. I miss his dry humor and his unbelievable humility. I miss his little smirks and the way he could fall asleep at the drop of a hat. I miss the unconditional love he had for our family.
I hate that he will not know my children, and they will not really know him. He will never know how great Bubba is at soccer or how intelligent Baby is. Yes... I will share stories, memories, and photographs but nothing can take the place of his presence.
Friday, May 31, 2013
Attachment vs Asperger's Part 2
Attachment Asperger's
After years of dealing with the questioning, my mother found an therapist who "specialized" in Asperger's. By this time (earlier this fall) I had almost made up my mind that we were dealing with RAD. Each time, however, I knew without a doubt, Bubba would do something to make me question my decision. With years of reading and therapy visiting in my backpack, I walked into this man's office completely alone (well...not exactly. I had just had LJ so she was in tow). I was ready to hear the same 'ole thing.
He asked me TONS of questions about how Bubba reacts to certain situations, what he enjoyed, how he handled being disciplined, what I believed were his biggest issues, his anxiety level, his history, etc. I did this for two sessions.
Finally on session three, before he had even met my child, he said " I get the feeling you believe he must have either Asperger's OR attachment. Is that correct?"
"Well yes..." I began confidently. Remember, I've been to this movie before.
"Has anyone ever told you he could have both?" he questioned.
"Excuse me? Both what?" I stammered. Wait...hold the phone.
"Asperger's and RAD? I believe he could have both. I of course won't know until I meet with him several times, but both is definitely feasible from what you are telling me." He answered.
"Are you serious? He can have both? Well that makes a hell of a lot more sense than anything I have EVER heard in years!" I exclaimed, half wanting to jump up and squeeze this frail man (who may have been on the spectrum himself) and half wanting to sit on that couch and cry.
After several months of therapy with him, Bubba is now on consult only, and we now treat him as if he has both. The Asperger's makes the RAD so much more difficult to handle, but we take one day at a time, and I believe we are making progress. There are days when I feel he may like me just a little, and there are days when he manipulates every situation to push every emotional button I have. The good days are glorious and the bad days suck more than you can imagine.
- antisocial behavior antisocial behavior
- repetitive behaviors repetitive behaviors
- sensory processing issues sensory processing issues
- motor delays motor delays
After years of dealing with the questioning, my mother found an therapist who "specialized" in Asperger's. By this time (earlier this fall) I had almost made up my mind that we were dealing with RAD. Each time, however, I knew without a doubt, Bubba would do something to make me question my decision. With years of reading and therapy visiting in my backpack, I walked into this man's office completely alone (well...not exactly. I had just had LJ so she was in tow). I was ready to hear the same 'ole thing.
He asked me TONS of questions about how Bubba reacts to certain situations, what he enjoyed, how he handled being disciplined, what I believed were his biggest issues, his anxiety level, his history, etc. I did this for two sessions.
Finally on session three, before he had even met my child, he said " I get the feeling you believe he must have either Asperger's OR attachment. Is that correct?"
"Well yes..." I began confidently. Remember, I've been to this movie before.
"Has anyone ever told you he could have both?" he questioned.
"Excuse me? Both what?" I stammered. Wait...hold the phone.
"Asperger's and RAD? I believe he could have both. I of course won't know until I meet with him several times, but both is definitely feasible from what you are telling me." He answered.
"Are you serious? He can have both? Well that makes a hell of a lot more sense than anything I have EVER heard in years!" I exclaimed, half wanting to jump up and squeeze this frail man (who may have been on the spectrum himself) and half wanting to sit on that couch and cry.
After several months of therapy with him, Bubba is now on consult only, and we now treat him as if he has both. The Asperger's makes the RAD so much more difficult to handle, but we take one day at a time, and I believe we are making progress. There are days when I feel he may like me just a little, and there are days when he manipulates every situation to push every emotional button I have. The good days are glorious and the bad days suck more than you can imagine.
Thursday, May 23, 2013
Best's Disease
The lights are so bright you feel as if you may be interrogated at any moment, and the walls have always been gray...the sort of gray you find on a faded newspaper that's been on your counter for a few weeks. I carefully ease down in my faux leather chair as I take in the sights. I'm immediately aware of the chill in the air. From what I can see, they probably keep it so cold to keep the smell of death at bay or the relentless germs from overpopulating and causing destruction.
"Momma! How much longer?" exclaims Peach as she jumps into the chair beside me. We have just been seated in the waiting room of the retina specialist for barely a minute, but it is too much for her. "It's FREEZING in here!" she yells.
I couldn't agree more, but judging by the waiting room population, I'm not certain they feel it. Every single person in there is a good 75 years older than my little girl, yet she is forced to sit and wait just as they are. And just like that I hear "Ms. Gregory?" It was Peach's turn!
I sit anxiously as the specialist looks through my daughter's beautiful eyes, praying through clenched teeth that he finds nothing. "Please God, not 2...Please God, not 2." I'm interrupted by the doctor's poor excuse at humor, which means I have to force a smile. I even manage some sort of sound, which I suppose could sound like a 1/2 laugh if you don't know me.
Suddenly I am in awe of Peach's stillness. She looks almost lifeless as she sits SO very still, allowing him to tilt her head back and forth, shine lights in, scan her eyes and take films. Her sister had warned her in advance of this requirement, but she is also still a rambunctious 3-year-old.
"Well..." he began.
Here it comes...Please God...Please God...Please God...
"She definitely has all the signs of Best's disease." he continues.
And there come the anvil over the head.
I'm really not sure of what else was said, because I deemed it unnecessary to listen. I now have 2 daughters with Best's disease... 2 daughters who may lose a good deal of their vision...2 daughters who don't deserve this.
But... I was also reminded as I looked into Peach's precious face that I have 2 amazing daughters,..2 beautifully intelligent daughters...2 daughters who, for right now, have excellent vision.
"Momma! How much longer?" exclaims Peach as she jumps into the chair beside me. We have just been seated in the waiting room of the retina specialist for barely a minute, but it is too much for her. "It's FREEZING in here!" she yells.
I couldn't agree more, but judging by the waiting room population, I'm not certain they feel it. Every single person in there is a good 75 years older than my little girl, yet she is forced to sit and wait just as they are. And just like that I hear "Ms. Gregory?" It was Peach's turn!
I sit anxiously as the specialist looks through my daughter's beautiful eyes, praying through clenched teeth that he finds nothing. "Please God, not 2...Please God, not 2." I'm interrupted by the doctor's poor excuse at humor, which means I have to force a smile. I even manage some sort of sound, which I suppose could sound like a 1/2 laugh if you don't know me.
Suddenly I am in awe of Peach's stillness. She looks almost lifeless as she sits SO very still, allowing him to tilt her head back and forth, shine lights in, scan her eyes and take films. Her sister had warned her in advance of this requirement, but she is also still a rambunctious 3-year-old.
"Well..." he began.
Here it comes...Please God...Please God...Please God...
"She definitely has all the signs of Best's disease." he continues.
And there come the anvil over the head.
I'm really not sure of what else was said, because I deemed it unnecessary to listen. I now have 2 daughters with Best's disease... 2 daughters who may lose a good deal of their vision...2 daughters who don't deserve this.
But... I was also reminded as I looked into Peach's precious face that I have 2 amazing daughters,..2 beautifully intelligent daughters...2 daughters who, for right now, have excellent vision.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
The Chart
"I've made a chart!" This was the announcement I made about 15 minutes before the older 3 were heading to bed. It's that time of day where they can smell bedtime coming like a lion can sniff out an injured gazelle. They sense my tempered excitement that, in moments, I will have a rare opportunity to sit down on the couch and possibly finish off the last of their grocery store candy. Because of this, the children undoubtedly loose the last bit of sanity they have been holding onto since they emerged from their warm baths.
I have announced these four words often. "The chart" always keeps baby in line because of her innate competitive nature, and appears to work on Bubba for approximately 10 days before the attachment issues kick in and he begins to claim we no longer love him when he doesn't get a sticker. Peach is new to the chart system and has such a strong will that I'm not sure God Himself could hold her to it, but we are at our limit. For the past month, our children have run around like maniacs when put to bed. They come to us for water, imaginary injuries, band-aids for said imaginary injuries, to alert us they may need to pee, or the room is too warm/cold.
I briefly explain what "going to bed" means at this house and what it would take to "receive" the almighty smiley face. I sensed Baby's competitive juices flowing and I was completely exhausted, so I upped the ante. "If you get 3 smiley faces (out of 5) you will get a prize, BUT if you get 5 smiley faces you will get a SUPER prize." That was all I had to say...the thought of the super prize was too much for their little minds to imagine. What would it be? A new pet, a video game, tons of Barbies, a sucker? Who knows but it couldn't be lost.
The older two were in bed and asleep in under 10 minutes. Peach, however, began screaming at the top of her lungs for me. I calmly went up to announce the loss of the smiley face... AND she lost it. Our neighbors probably thought someone was in imminent danger, but it was just my sweet Peach screaming from her bed. I quietly closed the door as she continued to scream. There would be no couch time tonight, no candy, and no sanity. She would loudly cry herself to sleep, only to wake up, run downstairs and exclaim "DID I GET MY SMILEY FACE?"
I have announced these four words often. "The chart" always keeps baby in line because of her innate competitive nature, and appears to work on Bubba for approximately 10 days before the attachment issues kick in and he begins to claim we no longer love him when he doesn't get a sticker. Peach is new to the chart system and has such a strong will that I'm not sure God Himself could hold her to it, but we are at our limit. For the past month, our children have run around like maniacs when put to bed. They come to us for water, imaginary injuries, band-aids for said imaginary injuries, to alert us they may need to pee, or the room is too warm/cold.I briefly explain what "going to bed" means at this house and what it would take to "receive" the almighty smiley face. I sensed Baby's competitive juices flowing and I was completely exhausted, so I upped the ante. "If you get 3 smiley faces (out of 5) you will get a prize, BUT if you get 5 smiley faces you will get a SUPER prize." That was all I had to say...the thought of the super prize was too much for their little minds to imagine. What would it be? A new pet, a video game, tons of Barbies, a sucker? Who knows but it couldn't be lost.
The older two were in bed and asleep in under 10 minutes. Peach, however, began screaming at the top of her lungs for me. I calmly went up to announce the loss of the smiley face... AND she lost it. Our neighbors probably thought someone was in imminent danger, but it was just my sweet Peach screaming from her bed. I quietly closed the door as she continued to scream. There would be no couch time tonight, no candy, and no sanity. She would loudly cry herself to sleep, only to wake up, run downstairs and exclaim "DID I GET MY SMILEY FACE?"
Tuesday, May 7, 2013
We're baaaccck!
Warm, slow tears drip down my face as I look back on this blog and its contents. The memories, the heartache, the stress, the joys, the laughes and the love it holds still stirs many emotions in me. The photos of tiny faces are priceless, and the reality of many of the situations I typed about I do not want to relive, but it is like the car crash on the side of the road. You know you shouldn't stare but you can't turn away.
I originally began this blog many years ago so my family and close friends could keep up with Bubba's (our oldest child) ever-evolving progress and Baby's (she is hardly that now, but she is our oldest girl) medical issues. I stopped this blog 1 year and 1 month after Peach (our second girl) was born. My life with 3 babies riddled with issues became too much for me to continue, but I desperately wanted to.
Writing is my therapy. It's a love of mine that I have had for many, many years. It provides me the ability to vent my frustration, share my happiness, and tell my weaknesses without having to hear someone's unthoughtout response. So... after much prodding from family and friends, we are back.
My goal is one post a week for now. If you have never read the blog, feel free to go back and read previous posts. Also know this is my place. I will be 100% honest and will hold back very little. Feel free to comment but if you are offended by something...I don't want to know. This is me...like it or leave it.
I originally began this blog many years ago so my family and close friends could keep up with Bubba's (our oldest child) ever-evolving progress and Baby's (she is hardly that now, but she is our oldest girl) medical issues. I stopped this blog 1 year and 1 month after Peach (our second girl) was born. My life with 3 babies riddled with issues became too much for me to continue, but I desperately wanted to.
Writing is my therapy. It's a love of mine that I have had for many, many years. It provides me the ability to vent my frustration, share my happiness, and tell my weaknesses without having to hear someone's unthoughtout response. So... after much prodding from family and friends, we are back.
My goal is one post a week for now. If you have never read the blog, feel free to go back and read previous posts. Also know this is my place. I will be 100% honest and will hold back very little. Feel free to comment but if you are offended by something...I don't want to know. This is me...like it or leave it.
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