Just the Way You Are

     I haven't written anything in over a month. I've thought about it several times, but the thoughts never quite became actions. Ever since CoCo left, I've been a bit unmotivated. I've read an insane amount of literature, slept in most mornings, showered once in a while, and played Farkle on Facebook. Productivity definitely took a back seat. I think after such an intense three months my poor brain and body wanted a break. The month of April did that for me. Now I'm good to go.
     At the end of February, I met with Ian's teachers at school for his annual IEP. Last fall I pushed and pushed for them to do more testing on Ian. I felt that he was falling behind and getting lost in the shuffle of other students. They did the testing and during his IEP we discussed the results. The whole meeting lasted for an hour-and-a-half. Believe me, that's long for an IEP. The results of the testing confirmed my suspicions and fears. The older Ian gets, the wider the developmental gap becomes between him and his peers. He does progress, but it happens so slowly that he just falls further and further behind the norm. His IQ was quite low and his cognitive function was at 1% of the average. The testing determined that Ian's disabilities are something that he will never outgrow. As his mother, I already knew this. But the school didn't. As a result of the testing, Ian now receives one-on-one instruction in the resource room for reading, language,spelling and math. He is in the regular classroom to receive his assignments and participate in centers, but all the other time is spent in resource. And he hates it.
     He hates feeling singled out. He hates having to actually put forth some effort and do his work. He hates not being with his friends. He hates "being stupid."
     Ian is at an age now where he recognizes that he is different in some ways from the other kids. He asks a lot of questions about his birth mother and the drugs she took during her pregnancy. He wants to know, "Why did she do drugs? Didn't she know that was bad for my body?" I'm very truthfull with him and try to explain things in terms that he can understand. I let him know that his birth mother loved him--and she did. I knew her and worked with her before adopting Ian. The decision to give Ian up was difficult for her, but she did it because she loved him and felt that God wanted him to be with us. I've let Ian know that. But someday he's going to understand more fully the extent of the damage the drugs caused to his body and brain. And it's going to hurt him. It will hurt his heart to know that his birth mother wouldn't stop doing drugs in order to protect him. I just pray that as time goes by, I'll know what to say and how to say it so that the hurt might be minimal. I pray that he will feel so loved by all of us, that it might make up for the things he's had to suffer. I never want him to question whether or not he belongs to this family. He does. Without any doubt. We prayed for him to come to us. I knew that Heavenly Father wanted us to adopt a boy, and we waited for him. When the time came, there wasn't a doubt that he was meant to be part of our family.
     I often have to remind myself of those things when he's being especially difficult. Which he has been for the last month. I think the changes at school have affected him, not to mention a slothful mom. He struggles with change and it's shown in his behavior. He's had a lot of meltdowns and tantrums. He's also been very demanding and impatient. More so than usual. Scott and I have had to come up with a little reward system for him. Scott gets paid once a month so Ian knows, if he does his homework and reading, he gets to pick out a toy or videogame each payday. This has helped. He's much more cooperative with reading, even reminding me that we need to do it. He knows that if he misses a night, he misses a toy.
     I hope this next month is better for him. I hope I can help him learn to love and accept himself for who he is. He's an amazing boy and I'm blessed to be his mother.    

Just Rewards

     It seems like a goodly portion of my blog posts have to do with family home evening. And today's is no exception. I'm not sure why it happens, nor do I believe that my child and family are unique in this regard, but for some reason, religious instruction brings out the worst in us. After a less than successful family night, I often wonder about the nature of Heaven and how in the world God keeps order. I think the only reason God was able to hold meetings in Heaven with His children was because we didn't have bodies yet and couldn't make rude noises with them. But even the Great I Am couldn't stop the bickering. We know the greatest fight in history took place during a great counsel, with the final result being that a third of His children stormed out with hurt feelings, vowing revenge on the rest of us.
     Monday evening's family night wasn't a total disaster. It was actually what I would call a moderate success. Tawni and her boyfriend, Woody, planned and delivered the lesson. Woody talked to us about the importance of families. We read a few scriptures and tried to ignore Ian who was crawling on the floor behind the couch. When Woody was done, Tawni introduced the activity. She wanted us to all say something nice about each person in the room. She had Beka start. Beka named everyone, complimenting us until our egos were uplifted. I was next. Then Zack and so on and so forth... Ian was last. When it was his turn he shouted loud enough for heaven to hear, "Tawni is more awesome than Zack! Beka is more awesome than Zack! And Mom is fat!"
     There went the love we were all feeling. Zack was traumatized and I was embarrassed to have my son so bluntly state the truth. And of course he had to continue because now he had an audience. A responsive audience. Some were laughing, others were shouting, and I dare you to try and get control after something like that.
     But the wicked have their just rewards. After Ian had gone to bed that night, the rest of us relaxed in front of a movie--me with a bowl of ice cream to soothe my wounded feelings. All of a sudden the lights flickered and a gut-wrenching scream of terror followed. We all ran for Ian's room. He sat trembling on his bed, tears streaming down his face, holding his blackened hand. The smell hit us first--electricity--and then we saw it. A paperclip in the outlet. My boy had just been zapped.

The Amazing Day

     Today was a great day for Ian. It started bright and early this morning over breakfast, at 7:45.
     "Hey, Mom? You need to come to the school at 8:30."
     "Your program starts at 10:30, Ian."
     "I know. But I'm getting the award at 8:30."
     "Is this the Chart Your Course award?"
     "Yes."
     This presented me with a few challenges. The teacher always sends a note home on Monday letting parents know that their student has been selected to be the recipient of this monthly award. Ian never brought home a note so this was the first I'd heard about it. Luckily I'd already showered, but my hair was dripping and I needed to help my sister get ready for a doctor appointment. Somehow, I made it in time.
    The awards ceremony took place in the school library. Principal Jameson read Ian's name and then gave a description of his merits. "Ian is becoming a faster reader! The more he practices and tries his hardest, the smarter he grows." They shook hands and Ian was given his certificate and special pin. After all the kids received their awards, it was picture time. The principal said, "Hold your award below your chin and say KIWI!" Narurally, Ian had to hold his award over his face so that only his eyes were showing. I tried to hug my boy when it was all over, but he ran faster than I could grab him, hollering over his shoulder, "See ya!"
     At 10:30 I was back at the school for the "Everyone Smile's in the Same Language" program. I was a bit worried about Ian's participation in the program. Last year's wasn't so great. But to my surprise he did all right. He sang the chorus on a few songs, did hand motions and body waving when appropriate, and even performed a separate song with a small group of children. When the program was over, he stood up and did "peace out" to everyone.
     It's customary, on program days, for parents to check their kids out early and take them home. I thought it would be a nice time for Ian and I to have lunch together. On the way home he asked, "Is Dad home yet?"
     "No, honey. It's just you and me for several hours."
     "Several hours?"
     "Yes."
     "I want to go back to school."
     Even though it was a pretty severe dig to my ego, I still laughed out loud.
     Every ten minutes, for the next three hours, Ian would ask, "What time is it?"
     He was counting down until 2:00. Because that's when his dad would be home. And two weeks ago, Dad promised Ian a trip to Game Stop for a new game. Today was payday and therefore, Game Day.
Too pass the time, we played LIFE. I landed on a spot that said, "Sue another player." When Ian heard this he replied, rather vehemently, "Don't take my kids. But you can have my wife!"
     I love my boy.
     Scott arrived home at 2:00 on the dot, as promised. I've never seen Ian grab shoes and a jacket so fast. He was like a mini-tornado, tearing around the family room and out the door. They were only gone for twenty minutes. But to Ian, that is equivalent to a million dollars.
     A major award, a succesful program, home early, lunch at McDonalds (even if it was with Mom), time with Dad, and a new game--all equal a very happy boy. 
    

My Well of Happiness

     For those of you that don't know, one of my sisters suffered a stroke at the beginning of January. The past few weeks have been very difficult and emotional. For the full details, you are welcome to read my other blog. There is a link on the right hand side of the page towards the top.
     In times of trial, I tend to appreciate small things. Things that might go unnoticed at normal times. Things like... warm socks fresh from the dryer, indoor plumbing, my crock pot, a smile from a stranger, and the feel of a little warm hand in mine. 
     My children are a well of joy to me. When I feel depleted, I just have to dip in my bucket and draw forth a bit of their happiness. Here are a few things that quench my thirst.



     Ian's infectious laugh

Zackary's imagination

Tawni & Beka laughing together as only sister's can

My daughters' blonde moments

Reading a bedtime story to Ian

Hearing Zack serenade an invisible audience in the shower

Beka's hugs

Smiles

Tawni's testimony

Zack's compassion

Ian tolerating a hug from me

Watching Beka play games with Ian

Watching TV with my girls

Playing Battleship with Zack

Playing Chess with Tawni

Watching Ian do the dishes-

Watching Zack help Ian with the dishes-

Watching the water fight as Zack and Ian do dishes together-

Watching my children mop the floor

The smiles on my older kids faces as they watch Ian playing

Bedtime hugs and kisses

Listening to dreams and comforting heartaches

     As I've watched my kids over the past several weeks, I've come to appreciate them more and more. Today, something about Ian just made me feel warm inside. His sweet face, his smile and laugh, his innocence... I'm not sure what it was really. But today I felt, and still feel, so blessed to be his mom. When I see my kids playing, laughing, and working together, I am filled with joy and every trial becomes bearable, because I have them by my side. 

Did He Come?

     It's been awhile since my last blog. There is a reason for that and we can all thank facebook for it. Gotta love the viruses. My laptop is in the care of my brother-in-law. I'm hoping he'll be able to fix it. If not, I'd better get used to snagging the family PC late at night when it's available.
     This month has flown by, for me at least. For Ian? It couldn't possibly move slower. Especially tonight. The final night. The night his biggest dreams come true. He's been working so hard to be good all month. His perseverance impressed me and I've gotta hand it to him: He's done an amazing job. He received a letter in the mail today from Santa. Scott read him the letter. He began, "Ian, I'm sorry to say you are on the naughty list."
     You should have seen that kids' face fall. Instant despair. All that effort and it wasn't good enough. His head dropped to his chest and he heaved a big sigh. Scott realized his mistake and hugged Ian, saying, "I'm joking. That's not what it says." To Ian's relief, Scott read the letter the right way and Ian learned that he was, in fact, on the Nice List. In spite of the good news, today has been a difficult one for my boy.
     We went to my in-laws house for dinner and a party this evening. Instead of being able to participate in the festivities, Ian was emotional and worried that he was going to miss something important if he wasn't at home. He claimed, at six-thirty, that he was tired and ready for bed. Apparently that wasn't true because it is now almost midnight and he is still awake. Poor Santa is getting tired and needs all little ones to be asleep so he can fill stockings.
     I tried to put Ian to bed at nine-thirty. I listened to his sweet prayer. He said, "Heavenly Father, I hope you have a good birthday tomorrow." I was so proud in that moment. Even though he was consumed with Santa desire, he realized the true meaning of Christmas. After his prayer I sang him songs and rubbed his back to help him relax. But Christeal is spending the night and she shares a room with Ian when she is here. And she, was NOT ready to relax. She kept trying to climb into Ian's bed and steal his covers. She would dump toys out in the middle of the floor and start to play. She would screech and laugh and try to get him riled up. It worked. Any sleepiness he felt during lullaby time quickly disappeared. So I moved Ian downstairs with the girls and Zack.
     My kids have a Christmas Eve tradition. They like to gather in the game room and sleep there together. That way they wake up together the next morning. But Ian still couldn't settle down. So when Christeal finally fell asleep I brought Ian back upstairs. I'm hoping he'll fall into a nice deep slumber soon and sleep until nine or so tomorrow.
     I can dream, right?
     While Ian was downstairs tonight, I was in my room wrapping Santa gifts. I heard him come upstairs and then go back down. When I came out of my room, I saw that he had moved the fireplace screen so that Santa could come down the chimney with ease and not hurt himself. There was also a plate of cookies and milk on the table.
     I love his excitement. I remember being a kid and waiting on that long, endless night. I nearly died when my Uncle Laurie called and told us that Santa was stuck in his chimney and wouldn't be able to make it. Another year he announced that his boys had captured Santa and wouldn't let him go. Adults can be so cruel.
     Well, my boy is finally asleep and that means I need to go to bed too. Santa can only come after everyone is dreaming of sugarplums. And when Ian asks me in the morning, 'Did Santa come?' I want to be able to say, 'Yes.'
     Merry Christmas!
    

Damn, I'm Good!

     I need to get this entry just right, so I will be conversing with Scott as I type. He witnessed the event downstairs with Ian, after turning on the Transformers DVD, then he hurried upstairs to relay it to me. It's a keeper!
     To begin, what little boy isn't a fan of Transformers? My younger brother worshiped them when he was a kid and today, their appeal is still going strong. My great-nephew can name every single Autobot and Decepticon, in order of importance, and probably alphabetically if asked. He's six--I think. (Sorry Mer if I got his age wrong!)
     Ian is a huge fan of the car/robot metamorphosis as well. He loves to pretend that his toy blocks are transformers. He can build Autobots and Decepticons of all shapes and sizes. He lines them all up on the fireplace and then proceeds to have epic battles complete with spit-spattering sound effects. It's the one thing that will occupy his overactive imagination for more than ten minutes. He will play for hours, and often asks me to not clean them up when it's time for bed. He likes to continue the next day where he left off the night before.
     Just recently Ian acquired a real Optimus and Starscream from McDonald's. I've never seen a child so euphoric over a happy meal toy. Naturally, with his new toys, he wanted to watch the movie so that he could play along with it. Which leads us to the funny story.
    Scott put in the DVD and Ian began watching. It came to the part where Iron Hide did something cool and said, "Damn, I'm good!"
     Ian stood tall and straight just like the Autobot and repeated, "Damn, I'm good!"
     He paused, and with a puzzled look on his face, turned to Scott and said, "I think I just said a bad word. But it's only a sometimes bad word. 'Cause there's good dams. Like Beaver dams, Hoover Dam... Right, Dad?"
     "Right, buddy."
     I love stories people tell about kids and naughty words. I'll never forget when Tawni was eight and out of the blue asked me if f*** was a bad word. I tried very hard to keep a straight face and explain in a kind way that yes, it was the queen mother of dirty words. We haven't had to address that one with Ian yet, and until we do, I'm more than happy to stick with a few damns.

The Daytona Kid

     There's a funny and oh-so-Ian experience that took place at the beginning of summer. Every now and then I recall it, but am always engaged in something else and by the time I reach the computer, it's forgotten. Don't ask me how. It should be an unforgettable experience.
     It all began on a beautiful warm summer afternoon. It was the kind of day that makes you feel like you are committing a crime if you don't spend it outside. And after the rainstorms of the previous day, Scott and Ian were ready to break out of their suburban prison and catch some rays. Outside, Ian helped Scott fill a bucket with soapy water. Then Scott pulled the mustang out of the garage to wash it. The plan was to scrub off all the muddy rain drops and polish it until the surface sparkled more than Edward Cullen. But being a man, Scott needed me to see just how dirty it was first. He came in the house and found me in the living room.
     "Look at the car. Can you see that?"
     I looked out the window at the car and did a double take. Could that really be what he wanted me to see? I did not think so. "Your car is rolling down the driveway!"
     "What?"
     We bolted for the door and sure enough, the mustang was rolling backwards down the driveway, gaining momentum on the slope, with a smiling Ian at the wheel.
     I've never seen Scott move so fast. Somehow he caught up to the car, yanked open the door and shoved Ian into the passenger seat, and managed to pull the emergency brake while his feet were dragging on the pavement. He did it all in one superhero move. The car came to a stop smack in the middle of our cul-de-sac.
     We expected Ian to be frightened. Surely after a near death experience he'd need comfort. Surely he was worried he'd be in trouble for almost wrecking Dad's sports car. Surely he needed his mom.
     None of the above.
     He was euphoric, trembling from the adrenalin and testosterone pumping through his veins. "I drove Dad's car! Did you see me? That was so cool!"
     Scott also had adrenalin pumping through his veins. Three hours and a headache later, he was still shaking.