Archive for the ‘The Kids’ Category
March 26 2010 ·
10 CommentsPosted in:
Favorites,
The Kids · Tags:
Buzz,
life It was raining as we left the shelter of home for Buzz’s speech therapy appointment yesterday afternoon. Not to the point of lightning flashing thunderstorms, but windy and cold nonetheless. The kind of dreary day that my adult stodgy self feels would be better spent sleeping away, instead of sauntering out into. Jumping in puddles just isn’t my thing.
The drops beat sideways against my back as I struggled to lock Buzz in his carseat. By the time we were on our way, I was drenched and cursing mother nature.
When we emerged from the 45 minute session, the steady downpour had formed large puddles in the parking lot. The biggest of which just so happened to encase our car. It looked like a small lake had swallowed it whole. I maneuvered my way up a curb, over the embankment, hop this way, put your left foot in that way, trying not to lose a shoe in the mud, and holding on to my son’s hand at the same time. All in a futile effort to keep dry. Buzz, however, viewed it as an opportunity. Where I saw an uncomfortable mess, he saw a scene straight from a dream.
Landing with both feet, he splashed and shuffled. His parched pant legs drinking up the water, like drops of bliss. I felt him tug on my hand, reaching for an inch more. Just one more, as the rain began to blend between us.
Sometimes, I forget how remarkable and jubilant that kid is. He deals me such a monumental fit the majority of most days, it’s easy to get lost in. Yesterday, though, the rain brought with it that reminder. He truly is a bright light of a little boy. Jumping in puddles may not be my thing, but he is. And whatever makes him happy, as long as it doesn’t involve sharp metal objects and electrical outlets, makes me happy as well. Even if it means my socks get soaking wet in the process.
March 24 2010 ·
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The Kids · Tags:
conversation,
Jedi Jedi likes to have a pudding at night before bed, when his brother and sister are sound asleep. It’s something that he can savor by himself, without a constant nag to share. I get it, I understand, I’m known to do the same. So we oblige.
Yesterday, however, he decided he wanted his pudding in the afternoon, when it would need to be divided with his siblings. This has the beginnings of a bad joke, but I swear. Pudding is a serious matter. Chocolate pudding, to be exact.
Before I consented, I made sure he understood that this was it. You can only have one pudding a day. If he ate his pudding now, he couldn’t have any later. He agreed and the pudding was merrily annihilated amongst the three of them.
Later on that night though, after his brother and sister were tucked under their covers, J handed him a pudding before I could protest. I sat down at the table across from him as he consumed that pudding cup without so much as an ounce of remorse.
“You remember this afternoon, don’t you?”
“Yes”, he replied swiftly between bites.
“Do you remember what we said?”
“Yes”, he answered, still inhaling one spoonful after another.
“When I said since you had a pudding this afternoon, then you couldn’t have one later?”
“Yes”, he looked up, mouth saturated in chocolate. “But I don’t care.”
March 16 2010 ·
4 CommentsPosted in:
The Kids · Tags:
conversation,
family,
Jedi When we had Buzz’s evaluation for speech therapy last Thursday, the other kids spent the time with Grandma and Grandpa. Obviously, it’s best if Buzz didn’t have any other distractions, and his brother and sister getting into everything would have definitely been a distraction.
I was making waffles for Jedi that morning. Although, to be fair, Eggo made the waffles, I just heated them up. But that takes a lot of work. Like button pushing and everything. I’m worn out just thinking about it.
As I’m slaving over his waffles, I let Jedi in on the day’s plans.
“Grandma and Grandpa are going to be here to spend some time with you later.”, I said cheerily, hoping he might take the news better that way. Not that he had any reason to react harshly, I was just afraid he may have been getting tired of seeing them since they’d been over quite a bit recently.
“Why?”, he wondered.
After I explained where we needed to go with Buzz and why, I asked for Jedi’s take on the situation. More to be polite and continue conversation, since it was going to happen whether he liked it or not. Apparently, however, all my worry was for naught.
“Yeah, that’s good.”, he replied. “I like spending time with Grandma and Grandpa. They’re a lot more fun than you.”
Let’s see if I ever make him waffles again.
March 12 2010 ·
7 CommentsPosted in:
The Kids · Tags:
Buzz,
speech The official diagnosis on the referral paper that I handed to the receptionist for Buzz’s appointment stated Phonological Delay Disorder. Which is a rather long name for a speech delay. We were there to see a therapist, after our disastrous turn with the public school system’s evaluation last year. This time, it was one on one. With a rather perky younger woman. And a much better experience.
They bent down to play with blocks together. He stacked and she stacked, then he knocked them all down. He found a Thomas the Train toy sitting on the shelf and choo-chooed that across the carpet. Picture books were looked at and illustrations named, all the while timidly clutching in his hand a small rock that he grabbed from our driveway before we left.
“What’s this, Buzz?”, she asked brightly, pointing to a pair of scissors on the page.
“Boo-boo”, he replied.
“And this?”, a little bit later, pointing to a butter knife.
“Boo-boo”, he said again.
“What’s this, down here?”, this time referring to a frying pan.
“Hot. Boo-boo.”
That’s my boy. At least he has the basics down.
Of course, these weren’t all he could recognize, most of which he accomplished correctly. We walked away from this appointment feeling good, unlike our other experience. No one mentioned “special needs” or treated him like he wasn’t a very smart kid. His words are simply stuck. We’re going to schedule therapy appointments for once a week, a minimum of 12 weeks, then see where we’re at it. I have a feeling he’ll be talking back with colorful language in no time.
March 09 2010 ·
12 CommentsPosted in:
The Kids · Tags:
Buzz,
motherhood Putting the kids to bed is always an ordeal. We started out doing it wrong, and now don’t have the energy to change it. Instead of letting Buzz fall asleep on his own, I lie there with him until his eyes are closed. Some nights, this time spent in bed next to my son is relaxing. Other nights, it’s thoroughly aggravating. The yin and the yang. Kind of like the rest of parenting.
The other night, all I wanted to do was watch the conclusion of a television show, but as so often happens, it fell right at Buzz’s bedtime. I could tell that he was going to be excessively difficult that night, and I would miss every last second of what I wanted to watch.
I was right. He tossed and turned every which way for an hour, while I sat quietly next to him in the dark. I was frustrated and impatient. Apparently, so was Buzz. He began to whimper and pout, a pitiful enraged cry mere seconds away. Maybe he couldn’t get comfortable. Maybe he wasn’t ready for bed. Maybe he was fighting it with all he had. Maybe he could sense my mood shifting negative.
Even though I was frustrated. Even though I was upset. I leaned over and kissed the small curve of his shoulder. “It’s OK.”, I whispered in his ear. “It’s OK.”
I took a deep breath and exhaled away every bit of paltry frustration. “It’s OK.”
“It’s OK. It’s OK. It’s OK…”, Buzz repeated to himself in a sequentially softer tone. A short time later, he finally closed his eyes and fell asleep.
Maybe sometimes, we all just need a little reminder.
