As the parents of a child with a disability, you worry about a lot of things. I think the mental part of the disability is what I'm most stressed over. What will people think of him? How will he be received? Will he be prematurely judged based on appearance alone?
Any parent simply wants their child to have a fair chance at life. We're no different. I guess that's why it's so touching when someone falls in love with our boy. As his mother, I can find a kajillion reasons to love him, but for others to take the time to find even one of those reasons is wonderful. It thrills my heart.
But when Micah went to school, something weird happened.
We're walking through the grocery store, picking and choosing what we'll toss into the cart, when someone walks up and gushes about how wonderful Micah is. These encounters last a few moments to a few minutes, and each time we're so taken aback that we just stare. I'm pretty sure that our mouths are closed, but I can't guarantee anything there.
At first, I assumed that my husband knew the stalker. He assumed that I did. Turns out that neither of us did, and Micah wasn't telling. We've come to realize over the years that Micah has quite the following. Who knew. And being that Micah is kind of shy when he's randomly approached by people out of their familiar places, he won't give these people (any of them!) the time of day. A lot of times, he won't even look at them. When they're gone he's all "ook!" and "eeee!" and craning his neck to see where they went, but while they're trying desperately to engage him in conversation or even to make eye contact, he's pretty intent on studying the tips of his shoes.
Shopping with Micah is like walking with a movie star. He's definitely a celebrity, and we're simply his entourage. He refuses to give his paparazzi what they're after, but secretly eats it up. And we, his parents, are clueless and underpaid.
Parenting a special needs child entails a whole lot more than we ever imagined.
Walking With the Stars
The Hair Is Alive
The kids' Wednesday night church club is having a sleepover Friday night. The sleepover has a pilgrim and Indian theme. All the leaders (that would include us) are required to wear costumes. Ball of joy. My friend told me that she bought a black wig on clearance at Walmart to wear for her Indian costume. I went directly to Walmart and purchased not one but two of them. They were 80 cents each. I love me some clearance sales.
The wigs are black and curly. In fact, they were labeled The Afro, and came complete with a pick stuck in it. I had plans to straighten that hot mess, braid it down into straight lines, and be Indians. What I didn't figure on was the fact that there was no straightening The Hair.
The Hair (which really deserves it's own identity) was spotted by Micah the moment he got home from school. Woody felt the need to wear a wig. Woody was eaten alive.
Luke also donned one when he got home. Micah realized that wearing The Hair himself was an option, and he wants nothing more than to be like his big brother Luke. Micah was swallowed by The Hair.
The Hair takes no prisoners.
Delilahfied
Sometimes I wonder if there is a limit to the things we'll do for kids. One day you're a happily married couple, childless and blissfully ignorant, and the next day you wake up and realize that you're parents to a toddler that only wears striped shirts and only eats blue food. You wonder how you got here, and why the kid is the one calling the shots. And then you come to the realization that you'll do anything (obviously) just to appease the wrath of The Toddler.
What brought this on, you ask? Samson and Delilah. Since I'm sure you're not seeing the correlation, let me explain. In an effort to help the kids retain more of the lessons in Wednesday night kids' club, we have taken to acting things out. Tonight's lesson was on Samson, and Sam and I got the acting parts.
First of all, let me just go on record as saying that Samson was hands-down the dumbest man EVAH. I mean, here's this hot chick that he's been sleeping around with asking him to divulge where his strength lies, and when he tells her (a lie) she tests it out, calls in his enemies, and watches him fight them off. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. Except Samson fell for this hot chick's line four times before finally telling her the truth. He had to know what was going down by now, and yet... To quote my dear and spiritual husband, "she must have really been good for him to have kept going back to her."
Anyhoo...
I wore a black afro wig that I scored on clearance for eighty cents (that's $0.80) and stuffed my robe so full that my chest was probably a double H (as in hubba, hubba).
Sam wore a straight black wig and looked for all the world like an 80's rock star. Or Ozzie. Seriously. Just like this.
We made one cute couple, let me tell you.
The kids loved the acting, and really listened to the lesson. But what I heard them all talk about afterward was the fact that Delilah pulled scissors from her bosom. Maybe that wasn't my best acting improv. But I wouldn't doubt that Delilah herself did it, too.
Also, don't Google Samson and Delilah if you're looking for costume ideas for kids. Yowza. You've been warned.
And, getting back to the original statement, apparently there's nothing we won't do for the kids.
School Roulette
As zealous new parents, we started our firstborn in Le Ponyville Homeschool Academy, convinced that it was the best choice for us. Since that day, so very long ago, we've run the gamut of schooling options.
Becky was heading into third grade and Josh was ready for kindergarten the year that Micah was born. Life suddenly became overwhelming and the new normal for us included doctor's visits and in-home thereapy several times weekly, with various fun things thrown in like visits to specialists and emergency surgery. Sam and I both knew that homeschooling was not going to be an option for our family any longer.
That year we enrolled the kids in a local Christian school. Unfortunately, it wasn't until after we in the midst of the year that we realized it was less of a Christian school and more of a private school for kids that weren't Catholic. (The only two private schools in the area were the Christian and the Catholic versions.) There was more snobbery than there was Bible learning. That wasn't what we were paying for.
The next year we enrolled the kids in another Christian school. One week before school was to start we had that feeling in the pit of our stomachs that clearly told us that we had done the wrong thing. Good timing, That Feeling. We lost our enrollment fees. That year, we chose cyber school.
Cyber seemed the way to go, until halfway through our second year. The problems that we ran into were frustrating, and I pulled the kids at the holiday break and finished out the year homeschooling on my own.
That was the year that Micah stopped receiving at-home therapy and needed to go to preschool to continue. That was the year that Becky longed for friends. That was the year that Josh needed help with reading. His dyslexia was a roadblock that neither I nor a tutor could surpass. That fall we enrolled the kids in the local public school. Luke started kindergarten there.
There has been no turning back. We're in our fourth year and the kids love it. It took me a while to adjust to having nobody at home for the first time in ten years as a parent. I opened The Rocking Pony to fill my days.
This week, we've decided that it's time for a change again. Becky is coming home. Cyber school is getting a second lease. Our daughter is getting a second lease. The stress. The worry. The pressure. It's more than one should have to bear. We can't watch her spiral downward any longer. Her relief is immense. I'm so looking forward to days spent with just my daughter.
We have learned long ago that nothing is ever set in stone.
The Replacement
That new dryer we got is a keeper.
Since the old dryer was choosing our best and newest articles of clothing to inflict burns upon, anything else would have been better in comparison. Hanging sweatpants from the van's antenna and booking 60 was looking like a good option in the clothes drying department. So it isn't like the new dryer had to actually prove itself to get instant approval around here.
The first day we had it, while it was sitting in the hallway waiting to replace the old one (which was a fire waiting to happen - wait, it already caught fire once), Micah sprayed the inside with vinegar. (You don't keep a spray bottle of vinegar around the house for various cleaning jobs? Huh. You probably should.) I was fully expecting the first load of laundry to smell like vinegar and made a mental note to myself to wash something that normally reeked and would make vinegar smell like an improvement. Like dog beds.
Mental note forgotten, the first load of clothes ran through that new wonder machine was some of our best clothing. It had already been drying for a while before I saw that note hanging in the corner of my mental office space, so I was a bit apprehensive when the bells alerted me that the clothes were now dried, folded, and ready to be worn. (It's a slight exaggeration.)
Upon opening the door, I found a dollar bill. No pungent vinegar smell, just money. Dude, my new dryer is paying me for my day job as a mom! That's a whole dollar more than I've ever gotten paid for any mom-job in the past 14 years. I'm swooning over an appliance at this point. My husband's position may be in jeopardy.
Micah is in love, too. He discovered the light inside the drum. (Did I not mention that? Oh, yeh. I mocked it at first, but now am a believer. A lighted drum. Oh, be still my beating heart.) Micah plays inside the dryer. With the light on. With two Woodys. He's in love.
As I was watching him play, I spotted this.
It's a quarter stuck in the door. My dryer is also paying me to babysit my kids.
*sigh* Dryer love is awesome.
And get this - the high efficiency model dries a full load in less than half the time my burn-em-at-the-stake model did. How sweet is that?
The only thing that could make this appliance any sweeter is if I had been given it as a freebie to test and rave about. Unfortunately, those kind of things don't befall me. I had to sell a horse to make the purchase. It was a good trade though. The horse was worse at drying clothes than the appliance we just replaced.
Regifting Birthdays. Or Not.
Luke was invited to a birthday party recently. While I knew about this little event well in advance, I tend to procrastinate. A lot. I didn't get a gift for the birthday kid until the day of the party. I had plans to go to town early, stop by Wal-Mart, buy a gift, wrapping paper, a card, and hastily wrap that thing in the van on the way to the party. I'm stellar at planning like that.
But then I had an even more genius plan. I'd raid the gift closet.
I have never gone Christmas shopping with a list of things that needed to be purchased. Instead, I start at the post-holiday clearance sales and shop all year for things in clearance bins and sales racks. Hey, this would be awesome for my niece! And I get it, and squirrel it away in my gift closet. You get the picture, because you're not dense.
I had purchased a dart board for next to nothingness with the intent of gifting it to my nephew for Christmas this year. It's the exact same dart board that we bought for our kids a few years back and they love. The nephew loves it, too. It would be a winner of a gift. We'd be the favored aunt and uncle. Boo-yah! And then my sister decided that we wouldn't exchange gifts this year, thereby sucking the fun right out of Christmas.
So there sat that dart board, and it was a great gift for a little boy for a birthday party. I wrapped it, tucked it under Luke's arm, and sent him off to party.
After the fun, I asked him all the parentally required questions. Did you have fun? What did you do? Did he like his gift? And Luke being Luke, he shared every tiny little detail. Including the fact that he informed the birthday boy, the birthday boy's mom, the birthday boy's guests and parent who stayed to help out that Luke gave him the dart board we'd been using for years. I think it went something like this, "So that's where our dart board went! I was wondering because I hadn't seen it in a while."
Niiiiice.
Does one call the birthday parents and explain that no, we most certainly did not recycle a gift? Or does one simply assume that the birthday parents are astute enough to realize that the box is still brand-new, the darts still straight, and the whole thing is indeed new?
Kids.
