Heart Peelings

I recently had my first night in over 60 days without a little boy in my care. I was overdue for a break. I could feel it.

Now that it's spring break, he is with Grammy and Grammy, and I'm so grateful!

I mean, wow. I needed this!

Here is what I learned this time.

Usually, the first day or two after I'm at home with me, myself and I, I sit in the chair and cry for half a day.

Sounds dramatic, I know. It took me a few years to figure out what was going on.

At first, I was really annoyed by it because, when I do get a break, I have all these projects I want to do.

When that incredibly sweet little boy is here with me, I am always "on." Always in the mode for what is next and what he needs and so on.

That's parenting.

So when he is gone, my body says, "Ahhh. Please take a rest, Amanda. Sit right down. Just relax and let your thoughts settle. You have much within you that you have not been seeing in your whirlwind. Come. Settle down and reflect."

Yeah, and cry my eyes out. Or sometimes just stare blankly and let the visions come.

It really took years of getting stuck in my chair to figure out that that is what I was supposed to be doing. My body would not let me do a project because I finally had the time to look inward and clear my soul. Apparently that was more pressing.

That went on for quite some time, and I accepted it. I even got to the point where I expect that to happen.

So after this latest timespan without time to really settle, I expected it to happen again.

But it did not.

I have been able to move freely about the cabin and work on projects that excite me. It's amazing!!!

Do you know what this means? 

It means that I have scrubbed my soul so much that I am in a good place. I no longer put unrealistic expectations on myself. I am gentle on myself when I used to be hard. I say yes to the things I actually want to do and don't just commit out of guilt. I have curtailed relationships that exhausted me. I have also turned my relationship with my son into us as a magnificent duo instead of a ball and chain.

I also try to take the time, when he is with me, to meditate and assess where I'm at.

I suppose it's working.

The fact that I did not have to cease activity in order to figure out what parts of my life I was ignoring is pretty huge. I'm so grateful for that, and I wanted to share it with you!

I still have plenty to strive for, especially career-wise, but I feel like I'm taking steps in the right direction. 

Consciously clearing out things in my life that made me feel like a victim on any level was one of the best things I have done for myself lately.

I guess I wanted to tell you this, so you can see that any or all of the efforts you put in to peeling away at the happiness of your heart makes a difference.

The acknowledgement of our feelings and emotions is constant, but the energy it takes to reel us out can become less and less once we have a handle on how to deal with them in a positive way.

It's not easy -- especially at first. But, man, it's so worth it!

This is the gist of what my next book is about by the way... whenever I get the time to keep writing it! Wish me luck!

As Down Wind Dan would say,

"It's a great day for a day."

Mama the Mule

We've had some blizzards and such lately. High winds too. Even single digit temps.

I'm not complaining, just stating the past weather report in case you were curious. Besides, it's winter, so if we didn't have those things, it would mean the world is coming to an end.

Or something...

But I've been feeling super awesome lately, and I want to make sure B and I get out for some fresh air without getting frost bite.

Saturday was the day.

The sun was even shining!

I somehow convinced him that we were going for a ski. I would wear my cross country skis, harness up and pull him in his Thule Chariot on skis -- one of my saving graces of motherhood.

I bundled him up with blankets and set one of those hot water bottles in his lap. He must love to watch me ski because he is quiet back there now.

When he was younger, he would cry shortly after we got out, and our trip would always be cut short.

The two times we got out so far this year have been miraculous in that department.

But back to Saturday.

Yes, the sun was shining, and he commented on that several times. We hitched up, and I took him on the Fort Wilkins trail starting by Our Lady of the Pines church. 

The wind was from the south, so it blew over the East Vein ridge and across Lake Fanny Hooe.

But the sun was shining!

I pulled him to the Fanny Hooe Creek and promised he could get out because he was getting antsy. The trail then takes a curve and parallels Hwy. 41 on the way back to town.

You know the one.

He got out and pushed the Chariot while I skied. Before we started this leg, I asked, "Should we go see the lake? We are right by the lighthouse overlook."

"No, thank you, Mummy. Let's go."

A bit disheartened, I forged back home. He was good at pushing from the back. What a great break for me!

But not more than 30 yards along, he yelled, "Stop!"

"What's up, Dove?"

"Let's go to the lakeshore."

Now when I am all hitched up, my total length from the tip of my skis to the back of the Chariot has to be about 10 feet. Not an easy turnaround stunt on a ski trail.

But the lake was worth it, so I maneuvered us 180 degrees to go see Her Majesty. It's been so windy and cold, that B hasn't been there for quite a while.

So to the lake we went.

The shore is different in the winter time, of course. Thick layers of ice create a false shore and extend out above the lake itself.

We crawled down a bit over some frozen wave formations.

And we sat.

"Let's sit together," he said.

He sat on my legs, and I wrapped my arms around him.  What a sweet moment in life.

But then he did was I always do.

He got up and kept going... toward the water.

"Mummy, let's go!" he charged.

Oh my goodness. He is me. 

He crawled over those frozen humps on a mission.  On all fours, if he had to.

Suddenly I was all the people who I nearly give a heart attack to when I bolt to the shore over unknown conditions to the very edge.

But I had to let him go.

I don't let anyone stop me, and I'm not going to stop him.

We went together, of course. I love it too. I just finally felt it from a more cautious person's point of view.

So there we sat on the edge of the thick ice -- maybe two to three feet from the water. The depth below was probably to my knee or thigh, so, on the off chance we went in, we wouldn't die.

At least not from drowning.

There we sat and watched the low waves roll in and splash the ice in front of us. It was a dream come true.

There I was, doing something adventurous (and a little precarious) with my offspring. On the shore of Lake Superior in the sunshine. In the winter. In Copper Harbor.

We both loved it.

My heart swelled so big.

It made all the hard times worth it. I felt victorious. 

So we sat watching the undulations creep toward us.

"Oh! Here comes a big one!"  he would shout. Or I would.

Then we would mimic the sound it made.

"Do you feel safe?" I asked him.

"Yes, I feel safe," he said.

I explained to him why it was safe for us to be there at that moment. But even so, we had to pay attention to our surroundings.

He agreed to pay attention.

And he really did. He listened to the sounds. He watched each wave roll in. He felt the ledge beneath us.

He did great.

He is getting it, and I am so proud.

But I was also getting cold.

Pulling a 70 pound sleigh makes you sweat. Well, at least it makes me sweat!

So I was getting chilly sitting on a shore made of ice.

"Okay, Braeds. I'm getting too cold. We have to go now."

Mind you, I also gave him plenty of warning that this moment was coming.

"No, Mummy. I can't."

Ugh.

I could tell that it was going to be a real challenge to convince him that we had to go back. I get it. I didn't really want to go either, but I was only going to get colder until I could be a mule again.

I did my pretend walk away in hopes he would follow, but he didn't even care. I went back to sit beside him for a "couple more" waves. 

Finally, he agreed to walk back with me, so I didn't freeze. It didn't take long before I heated up. Even just walking helped.

We crossed the highway and waved to some friends driving by. I bundled him up and harnessed myself up.

Down the trail we slid. The trail was not tracked, but it was quiet and peaceful. I was in heaven. That whole ordeal meant so much to me!

Boy, this post is getting really long, but those are most of the good parts, so I'll leave it that for today. Just know that we made it back with only a couple tribulations. Ha!

We are tough.

Oh, and a picture of Her Majesty from a different sunny day... when I had my camera.

Such a Little Man

Brady P. is going through some changes right now. 

He is not a toddler anymore.  He is maturing and developing in ways that continue to shock and awe me.

For one, his sleeping habits are different.  It used to be that I got him all ready for bed, we'd run and jump on his bed, he'd snuggle in, I'd give him a kiss and walk out his door, closing it behind me with a sigh of relief.

That doesn't happen anymore.  Now he is getting out of his bed around 1am nearly every night to come snuggle with me.

I was very resistant to this as first because I worked so hard to get him to the point where he would stay in his room all night, and I wasn't going back.

But he is changing, and having dreams, and he wants to feel protected.  Once I gave up the reins and let him snuggle with me until wake-up time, we both slept better and he was much more accommodating to me throughout the day.

Like, every day.  I am grateful.

In another area, he is eating a LOT.  And growing in all directions.

He is also starting to use full sentences.  "This one is big!" when he points to his ice cream cone.  "What does this say?" when he sees new words in a book he's reading.  "Let's go, guys!" when shouting for his favorite hockey team.

Each time he busts out a new sentence, I am amazed.  It's all so new to me, that it still blows my mind when I realize he will speak like an adult someday. 

I think his passion for reading has a lot to do with that.  What a gift!

He is even working on spelling words himself.  Wow.

And he wrote his letters like a champ in school today!

These are all things I've been noticing and adjusting to in our life.  But when his coordinator from the ISD came to see him yesterday, she was floored.

She looked at me with huge eyes and said, "He is just blowing me away!  We're going to have to amend his IEP because he has already achieved many of his goals for this year."

We looked through his IEP, and, sure enough, he has checked off some important goals in speech and fine motor skills.  When we set those goals in June, I thought they were pretty lofty, but he is surpassing them!

Do you know how proud that makes me?

It's so fun to hang out with him and watch him interact with other people, observe objects and processes, entertain himself and interact with me.  We definitely have a beautiful relationship that just took a new turn for the better as I watch him understand more about his surroundings and I let him take the lead.

He has opinions and preferences, and when I follow him around, I learn a lot myself.

Our children are definitely our teachers.

One thing that hasn't changed is his compassion for people.  If he sees you crying, you will get a hug.  If you hurt yourself, he will kiss it.  If you are sick, he will tell you to be happy.

It's nice to have a little angel around.

Leaps and Bounds

Tuesday I walked into the schoolhouse to pick up wee man, and the teacher started gushing to me about how awesome Brady P. did writing and spelling that day.

"What happened over the weekend?"  Miss Jill asked.  "I mean, it's like leaps and bounds from Friday to Monday."

I didn't even know what to say.  I was just so proud.

His afternoon aid stood there smiling.  A big, blushing grin.

His morning aid sent me a picture of his work earlier in the day.

Lili's name!

His special ed coordinator was blown away too.

"He wrote all the students' names," Miss Jill continued.  "A couple times. And he even wrote mine and came up to me all proud to say 'look what I did!'"

I know he's doing awesome.  I do his homework with him.  I read books with him.  I watch him progress. 

But to see other people beam at the accomplishments of my son fills me not just with pride, but with gratitude.  I am so grateful that he is a student in that school.  Not just because he's progressing, but because everybody notices.  Everybody is impressed.  And everybody is so proud of him.

The fact that little Brady P. shows significant progress in the areas he is so far behind in because of his extra chromosome, really touches the people that work with him.  Because they genuinely care about him.

His progress is their heart hard at work.

It's like a sprinkling of magic pixie dust blew through the schoolhouse and tickled everybody to the bone that day.  It's one of those moments where you can take a step back and say, "Wow.  We're really making a difference here."

And it means so much.  To everyone involved.

So, thank you to everyone involved!  You know who you are.  I'm not going to embarrass you anymore than that.

Thank you for caring.  And thank you for feeling proud of your efforts through a little boy who's going to help change the world.  Because you are giving him the tools to help him change it.

Even the Little Schoolhouse

Like an artist of any medium, sitting in front of a blank slate (or screen) before you know your subject/inspiration for that piece is pretty much pointless.

So here I sit in a little office room at the school trying to figure out what to write about for the day.  The kids are having snack one room over.   Gold Fish crackers.  The colorful ones.

Then I hear chatter from across the hall.

"Braeden, can you find the green fish?"

"He found it!  Can you find the yellow fish?"

"Braeden, can you find two fish?  Yay!  How about three fish?"

"Braeden, can you say "f" for fish?"

"Braeden, can you keep your hands on your lap?"  Then I hear a chorus of the "Hands in your lap" song that Mrs. G made up for him.

"Braeden, can you keep eating?"

And then later:

"Can I read Braeden a story?"

Wow.  Those students really care about him.  They are amazed at what he knows, and they encourage him to show off his skills.

Even though they are supposed to be eating quietly, I still love to hear them quiz him.  And applaud him.  And keep him in line.  And marvel at him.

Not only do I appreciate the attention they show, but I appreciate that it is the students, and not just the teachers (and Mom) who are engaging.

It's the kids.

He loves kids.

Kids have an ability to relate to and reach other kids that most of us society-conforming/self-conscious adults don't have.  We just lose it over time...

... Unless we vow to be a kid forever...

But that concept would fill a different blog.  Let me know if you'd like to hear it some day.

Now is the time for me to express my gratitude for the students and teachers at the little "one room" schoolhouse at the northern most point in Michigan.  To the students and teachers who take the time to get to know and encourage my son's strengths.  Who understand and extend extra patience to the preschooler with the extra chromosome.  Who, at the same time, uphold the same standards of behavior and expectations that the other students have.

Yes, I am grateful.

Braeden loves to go to school.  He loves the teachers and the students.  He loves to learn.  He loves to get out of his own house for a bit and see other people besides Mom. (Okay, I'm assuming that last part).

And it's all good for him.  It's all good for everyone.  

Living in a town with limited access to everything except gift shops, the splendors of nature and a wonderful community, one never knows how a child with "special needs" will fair in the education department.

But I am tickled.

His speech pathologist in Calumet and his physical therapist in Houghton are each thrilled with his progress.  He is nearly exceeding the goals they set at the beginning of the year, and he's only half way through!

So thank you, little Copper Harbor one room schoolhouse.  You are helping this little boy maximize his full potential.  

That is my biggest goal for him.