BINGO!

Today, twice in one day, I got very good news.
I certainly wasn't on pins and needles to hear this particular news, maybe that's why it was such a lift.

One: Our insurance made good on their portion of our ER Dr. bill. Alleviating our outstanding debt of $300. Nice. This amount has been under deliberation for 9 months now and I am quite relieved to be on the winning end of that deal.

Two: The crusty, barely adequate dishwasher that we inherited when we bought our house was recalled. As long as that dishwasher worked, I knew I would never get another one. Mostly because dishwashers aren't really a necessity, but a luxury - so I de-scaled it, and kept using it, secretly hoping it would get secretly replaced with secret extra money. Yeah right!
Today in the mail, we received notice that it has been deemed a fire hazard - Go figure!
We will receive a check in the mail to compensate us toward the purchase of a new dishwasher!!
I went to our local scratch and dent appliance place with my mom today and found one that will neither set our house on fire, nor growl and churn for hours while cleaning the dishes. Sara_smiles' daddy owns that store and you should go there first if you ever find yourself needing a new appliance - he will hook you up!

How Lucky are we?

I sit here watching my two breath-takingly beautiful babies in the bathtub.
It's not every night that they get to have bubbles in the bathtub. Sometimes we run out, others I just overlook it as I hurriedly rush through the nighttime ritual.

The kids smiled as I swashed the water this way and that to maximize the bubble-making potential and talked about how great the bubbles smelled.
They started to give themselves bubble beards, outrageous bubble hair-dos, and so on.
Then I washed their hair and they giggled as I accidentally tickled them while rinsing their shampoo out.

After that, they began to play with one another and their bath toys. Happily, without bickering - a notable rarity in our home right now.

I guess I was feeling a little hogwild and I brought their toothbrushes to the bathtub, with paste and all and handed them their toothbrush. We usually do that at the sink after bathtime. Yes, I know. I'm totally living on the edge...

Jaron looked at Avery and said, "How lucky are we?"

Indeed.

I am so looking forward to nibbling on their "raisin" fingers and toes after they get out.
Ooooo and smelling their soft, freshly bathed baby smell while trying to ignore their obvious knobby knees and bumpy backs that would beg to differ with my previous 'baby' description. Combing Avery's curls and rubbing them down with lotion. Praying and singing and reading books during this, our last week of summer.

How lucky are we?

Very, very lucky.

God's Big Backyard.

I was finally given the keys to a classroom today!!
A classroom that is not really mine, but will serve as a meeting place for me and my students during this school year, either until the new kids' pastor asks me to leave or the committees decide to remodel it. Hopefully neither of these two scenarios will play out before the end of the school year.

It is called God's Big Backyard.
I mustered up the gumption to go inside today and began the long, arduous process of removing all the unnecessary objects from the room.
Did you know that God's Big Backyard is filled with useless junk? Dozens of computer monitors from the 80's, THE television from the movie Pleasantville (Yes, I'm sure), about 200 or more insect carcasses, and huge amounts of what-nots, knick-knacks, and trash.
You'd think God's Big Backyard would have better upkeep than that!

Well not anymore. It is now a nicely equipped temporary music room. And all it took was every minute of my day in turbo mode to get it that way.

Whew!

Toes

Toes are very funny.

Today, Jaron was trying to explain something to me about one of his toes.
He said, "You know mom, my thumb toe?"

I don't remember what he was telling me. I just burst out laughing. Mostly because its funny, but also because I remember thinking that too as a kid.

Funny kids with funny thumb toes.

Chapters

I have been doing a lot of thinking about the chapters in our lives.

In the last year, I have seen a lot of friends' chapters close and begin anew.

Some friends had real page-turners! Exciting stuff happening so quickly, you couldn't put the book down between chapters for fear of missing something. And you were always so happy to get filled in on all the great news and things that were happening for them.

Other friends were living War and Peace. A laborious read with few chapters that offered resolution. Even flipping through their book for highlights was discouraging at times. But in the end, you just knew that things were going to turn out for them. And you were so glad for them when things turned out well and their struggles finally ended.

I, for one, am really glad this chapter in my life is ending. This past summer has been one encapsulated by hurt and disappointment. Just when I thought one injury was healed, another one would stealthily slip in to take its place. Over and over and over.

Tomorrow marks the beginning of a new chapter. The start of a new school year - albeit not the one I was expecting - a fresh start nonetheless.

There are still things that lie in a state of unrest. Not really put to bed or brought to complete closure, but I have decided to be content.
It is not important for me to understand why things unravelled the way they did.
It is only important for me to take the ownership that was mine in each situation, ruminate on it to learn whatever I can, and then to bury it in good soil.

I'll fix my eyes on the things I can do today to make a difference in the situation I find myself in.
The situation God put me in for reasons that have yet to be revealed, ever looking for the harvest.

Perhaps one reason is that my kids still need me. Or that I still need them. Perhaps it's not a question of whether I had heard God, but more that my timing was not in sync with His.
Maybe this whole chapter in my life was to teach me where it is safe to place my trust, only in Him. Only ever in Him.
Or maybe there isn't any ultra-spiritual spin on any of it.
Maybe, just maybe, it happened.

Whatever the answer to life's quandaries, I'd like to say I feel stronger, somehow better because of it all, but I can't even honestly say that yet.

Keep reading. I would love for that to be the end of the next chapter.

Bowling night.

What could inspire a person the minute they wake up to think, "Hmmm... I think I'd like to go bowling today?"

Those were some words Jaron uttered today. I don't even know if he remembers the only time he's ever gone bowling prior to today. In any case, he really wanted to do that today and Chris was off work. Plus, we were really wanting to reward Jaron for being so grown up at his very first ever therapy session today. So we went.

(Sidenote: I'm not a fan of, nor do I anticipate ever feeling differently about, renting bowling shoes.)

Some things I didn't expect:

• Jaron is quite the little bowler. Who would have thought that his score of 117 would seriously dwarf my lifetime best score of 98? Yes, he's good. I told you.
• Chris and I could not help but chuckle as Avery, who insisted on wearing a denim mini-skirt to the bowling alley, would bend over, set her giant pink ball down centered between her legs and strain to spread her legs beyond the slack her skirt provided. She then commenced to "granny roll" the ball down the lane. On average, the ball had been in painfully-slow motion for 45 seconds or so before it made it to the pins and kind of 'leaned' into the pins as if to say, "Please?" She then would cheer and twirl, regardless or whether any pins fell. Cuteness.
• Jaron took particular annoyance to her genuine thrill. He couldn't understand why anyone who clearly stunk at bowling could be so content to stink at it. It was very hard to explain to him his sister's obvious innocence and refreshing contentment. She was simply happier twirling on the nice hard wood floors and giving high fives than bowling...
• Chris bowled the game of a lifetime. I don't know why that bugged me. He's just good at everything. Every five seconds it was like, oh another strike? Wow, babe! I guess you all know how that goes... :P
• I thoroughly enjoyed watching their amusement at my plague of gutterball after gutterball. It was truly a thing to behold. I guess I used to think I was ok, and in a totally UNrelated story, I don't think I have ever played a game without Shannon also playing a game nearby. Either way, I have lived with the impression that I wasn't half-bad at bowling for 28 years only to find out that most 5 year olds can smoke me.
• I want to go back tomorrow and do it all over again. It was so much fun!

If you are reading this expecting a punchline or a closing statement about my dislike for renting bowling shoes, you'll not find it here. That was it in a nutshell.

Take your kids bowling. It's fun!

Bedtime Story

I forgot to write down Avery's made-up bedtime story last night.
It went like this:

Avery: "Tonight's story goes like this. NO story. Mommy?"

Me: "Yes, baby?"

Avery: "I'm very sleepy. Can I go to sleep now?"

Parenthood 101: Acceptance

Tomorrow morning, I am taking Jaron to the Rehab Center.
He has been diagnosed with Sensory Integration issues by his pediatrician and will be getting evaluated for further course of therapy.
I don't quite know how that translates exactly into real-life, but I do know after working with preschool aged children for the last few years that we are dealing with an exceptional child in Jaron. Try as we might, it is apparent that Chris and I could use a few pointers on parenting him. So we are looking at this as an opportunity for growth.

It has been a road fraught with both inexplicable joy and trial to be Jaron's parents.
We have loved and corrected, wrestled with him and wrestled with how to parent him.

He knows he is different. Sometimes he is able to celebrate the wonderful qualities that set him apart, and we celebrate them along with him.
Other days, the isolation those 'differences' bring is a pang, straight to the very core of who he is.

As his parents, knowing full well that there are many, many good days sprinkled with some not-so-good days, Chris and I have long sought what help, if any, we should afford him.

At the persistent urging of the entire faculty at our school, Chris and I decided to entertain the possibilities that therapy brings. The doc agreed that this was a journey we should take. One that could greatly benefit our son.

I spoke with Jaron tonight, to prepare him for the unknowns that lie ahead for him tomorrow.
He has never adapted very well to change, a part of having sensory integration issues.
He asked me questions about the new place he is going tomorrow. I tried my best to answer him, but I've never done this either. I didn't know how to answer all of his questions.

I stressed that we all have trouble knowing exactly how to cope with some things. How to 'be' in certain situations - especially new situations. I told him that we were going to make some new friends tomorrow who would help us, give us the tools we need to be the best Jaron and Mommy we could be.
He said, "so that my friends will like me better?"
I winced, "No. So that you stay YOU. Completely you, but the best YOU you can be."

I don't think I know what to expect. I am not sure how to tell him what to expect.
At the end of all this, I want Jaron to feel completely accepted and acceptable.
That is the goal. To equip him for life. Success in school, in jobs, in relationships, in whatever.

I guess I am concerned that the things that make him different, perhaps a touch more difficult to parent/teach at times, will be perceived by him as things that make him unacceptable or less worthy of our love and acceptance.

He is exactly the kid I would have ordered from a catalog if I had been given the chance. I cannot imagine life without his quirky little self.
He needs to know - believe - that wherever he is, whatever he does, he adds so much to the world just by being in it.
His value is without price. His contribution: incalculable. His acceptance: unconditional.

It can be so hard to feel like you've done the right thing in trying to help a child by seeking help from therapists, but if you don't do everything you can to set them up for success, have you done enough? There's a thin, thin line. I want to have stood on the right side of that line when this is all over.

Goose Egg and Gash.

I wish you could have seen the way Jaron leapt from the fireplace, zoomed across the living room, and torpedoed into the air head-first toward the couch cushions.
His only miscalculation? How high to jump.
He waaaay overshot his mark, missed the couch entirely, and hit the wall above the couch headlong with the full force of his body behind him.

The resulting lump was incredible. It looked like a volcano science project when the vinegar gets poured in with the baking soda. POW! Instantly huge.
At one point, Chris said, "Man, you got a goose egg the size of a, well, goose egg."

We iced it and the swelling subsided a tad. But if ever, at any point, during the day he over-exerted himself by doing anything other than sitting and watching tv, it would re-swell. We're talking Biblical proportions.

You already must know what keeping a boy like mine still and calm all day long is like...

I felt like a broken record. Every few minutes I reminded him, "Let's try to stay calm, remember?"
While inside, my heart was racing, terrified that his lump would grow beyond epic. It was so, so huge!

Around 6pm, I could no longer scare him into submission (Calmness). He was taunted one too many times by his little sister. She has this way of sashaying past him and acting coy that the boy simply cannot resist.

The race was on... until she got to her bedroom, turned to see him coming, and slammed the door. On his head.

The resulting gash was incredible.
It was so deep it looked more like a dent in a vehicle than in a human head. No blood at first. Just a kind of eerie gray color with a deep groove. Then it all came rushing out. EWWWW!

Luckily, (I guess it was lucky anyway) it was on the side of his head previously unaffected by the goose egg.

I got all frustrated with him and said, "See? When you get all crazy and start acting wild, this is what happens..."
He was still crying from the pain. I was being critical of his impulsiveness.
I was exasperated. I didn't give him the warmth and comfort he needed. He was hurt and already regretted the decision to take his sister's bait.
I immediately wished I could have been a lot more nurturing. A lot more like my Heavenly Father who never kicks me while I'm down.

So I grabbed my very last ice pack and lovingly doctored his new gash.
I kissed him and held him tight, at a loss for words.
It stung my heart. Too often I fail at this monumental task of motherhood, especially with regard to my son.

Later in the car, he said, "I have decided to forgive myself."
I said, "What did you have to forgive yourself for baby?"
He said, "For actin' all wild and getting myself hurt."

I told him I was sorry for snapping at him and asked him to forgive me.

What's a mom to do with a kid like him?
He's priceless and passionate.
Full of energy and life.
Introspective and impulsive.
Brilliant and all-boy.
He makes me smile everyday. The inside kind of smile - where you know you must be doing something right to have such a great kid.
The very next moment, I want to wring his neck!

He's my baby.
But he's also becoming so big, so fast.
A Kindergartener in just a few more days.

I am terribly proud of him.
Even when I am not terribly proud of the way I mother him.

Webkinz

Mom Alert:

Someone has developed a technique of sucking every brain cell out of a parent's head while adding beau coups of chores to their day.
It's called Webkinz and once a child gets one, the parents are doomed.

If you don't know what I am talking about, here's what they are:
It's an evil force that parades around like a cute little cuddly stuffed animal. Similar to Beanie Babies, only way softer. And for good measure, the mark of the beast, or Webkinz "W" is on their paw, so it's officially a Webkin.
In my childhood, stuffed animals served ONE purpose: to collect dust. But in this day and age, they have concocted a far more time-consuming role for stuffed animals.

The Webkin is given a SECRET CODE. And you are encouraged to go to a special website and adopt your Webkin. But that's only the start.
You, as the good parent, spend an hour and a half reading over the site making sure it's safe. You register the pet (keeping in mind it is and only ever will be a STUFFED ANIMAL!!)
You print out all the special secret information they give you such as passwords and codes.

You breathe a sigh of relief that this drudgery is finally over when lo and behold you realize the fun has just begun. Your child is now interested in becoming a responsible parent. As a responsible parent yourself, you'd be hornswaggled if you didn't support their newfound interest in responsible parenthood. So you engage in navigating this far-too-complicated-for-small-children website whilst reading your child every word, so they can be a part of the whole thing; after all, they did just adopt a 'real' stuffed animal.

You earn money to clothe, bathe, and entertain the Webkin. You buy it a bed, a toilet, and other Stuffed Animal essentials. It just goes on and on. Then its hungry again. You get my drift?

See? Masquerading as an innocent stuffed animal, but I warn you, it's a wolf in sheep's clothing. Err.. Webkinz clothing.

Either way, this lengthy gripe session was all to prepare you for the most horrible confession of all.
I spent hours last night online trying to earn Webkinz money so I wouldn't have to spend so much time today trying to.

Sheesh!