What could be sweeter?
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| Big sis Olivia and Jack |
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
are you my mother?
I've been doing a little jogging lately. Well, not jogging exactly. It's more like loping. I've never been much of a runner. This is ironic, considering my height and build, but true all the same. In this season of life however, with 3 little kids who are busy from the moment they wake up until the moment they crash at night, quiet is something of a rare jewel. So AJ and I have been trading off for 30 minutes a day, getting out and exercising and taking in the quiet sounds at the little nature trail up the street.
It's a good time to pray, listen, and let my mind ramble where it will. Every once in a while I do get stuck in my rambling, and with school fresh behind me, it sounds a little something like this in my head: "I wonder how much ATP I'm getting from glycolysis right now? Probably not as much as I'm getting from the beta oxidation of my fatty acids. Way to go electron transport chain, you are awesome!!"
But these days I have other great things to think about.
I may have mentioned before that Jack doesn't call me anything. When he needs something, he will yell from the other room. "HELP!" or "AAAHHHH!" or "NO NO NO NO!" Or when he's not particularly wound up, he'll come and get me with a cute little grin plastered to his face that I can't resist. "Cheese? Juice box? Cracker? Fruit snack?" But he doesn't call me a name. It's funny how AJ and I weren't even really consciously aware that was missing until Camille started calling us mommy and daddy. Of course, we know he knows we're his parents. He just hasn't figured out what to call us yet.
And then a couple of weeks ago, it happened. AJ was busy in the kitchen when Jack ran in.
Jack: "Help! Help please!"
AJ: Hold on buddy, just a second.
Jack: "HELP. HELP PLEASE!"
AJ: Just a second Jack.
Jack: Dad. HELP.
Just like that. It was music. Of course I was thrilled he said 'dad', and he's been saying it daily ever since. But longing now all the more to hear him call me mom.
Fast forward a few weeks. I have tucked the kids in to bed and I'm cleaning up. AJ is getting Camille down to sleep in her room. Then we hear in singsong, from down the hall, "MOMMMMMMY!" I thought it was Camille. Then AJ poked his head out of her room, "Did he just say mommy?" I go into Jack and Livvie's room, and Jack is grinning on the floor (he likes to sleep in his bean bag chair on the floor). I think he knows he's just done something dramatic. "Mommy! Mommy!", he says again. I'm too shocked to cry, I just smile and say, "Do you need mommy? What do you need Jack Jack?" He replies, "Story book." and then goes to get a book from the bookshelf. It doesn't matter that we've been reading and playing for an hour, and it's now 9 o'clock. I will stay as long as he wants me to. And in the most poetic gesture that has ever been made, he hands me one of my favorite books that he's never showed the least bit of interest in:
Are You My Mother? by P.D. Eastman.
So we read Are You My Mother a few times, he snuggles in to bed and drifts off. It doesn't hit me until I'm out loping the next morning what mountain-shifting event has just occurred in my heart. Mommy. Mommy. The most beautiful word I've ever heard. This morning it's easy to turn off the ramblings of my busy mind. I close my eyes and listen to the quiet sounds around me. The drumming of a woodpecker. The fanning of leaves in tunnels over my head. The steady tinkling of the creek. Everything that is breathing and living and moving. They're all saying Mommy.
It's a good time to pray, listen, and let my mind ramble where it will. Every once in a while I do get stuck in my rambling, and with school fresh behind me, it sounds a little something like this in my head: "I wonder how much ATP I'm getting from glycolysis right now? Probably not as much as I'm getting from the beta oxidation of my fatty acids. Way to go electron transport chain, you are awesome!!"
But these days I have other great things to think about.
I may have mentioned before that Jack doesn't call me anything. When he needs something, he will yell from the other room. "HELP!" or "AAAHHHH!" or "NO NO NO NO!" Or when he's not particularly wound up, he'll come and get me with a cute little grin plastered to his face that I can't resist. "Cheese? Juice box? Cracker? Fruit snack?" But he doesn't call me a name. It's funny how AJ and I weren't even really consciously aware that was missing until Camille started calling us mommy and daddy. Of course, we know he knows we're his parents. He just hasn't figured out what to call us yet.
And then a couple of weeks ago, it happened. AJ was busy in the kitchen when Jack ran in.
Jack: "Help! Help please!"
AJ: Hold on buddy, just a second.
Jack: "HELP. HELP PLEASE!"
AJ: Just a second Jack.
Jack: Dad. HELP.
Just like that. It was music. Of course I was thrilled he said 'dad', and he's been saying it daily ever since. But longing now all the more to hear him call me mom.
Fast forward a few weeks. I have tucked the kids in to bed and I'm cleaning up. AJ is getting Camille down to sleep in her room. Then we hear in singsong, from down the hall, "MOMMMMMMY!" I thought it was Camille. Then AJ poked his head out of her room, "Did he just say mommy?" I go into Jack and Livvie's room, and Jack is grinning on the floor (he likes to sleep in his bean bag chair on the floor). I think he knows he's just done something dramatic. "Mommy! Mommy!", he says again. I'm too shocked to cry, I just smile and say, "Do you need mommy? What do you need Jack Jack?" He replies, "Story book." and then goes to get a book from the bookshelf. It doesn't matter that we've been reading and playing for an hour, and it's now 9 o'clock. I will stay as long as he wants me to. And in the most poetic gesture that has ever been made, he hands me one of my favorite books that he's never showed the least bit of interest in:
Are You My Mother? by P.D. Eastman.
So we read Are You My Mother a few times, he snuggles in to bed and drifts off. It doesn't hit me until I'm out loping the next morning what mountain-shifting event has just occurred in my heart. Mommy. Mommy. The most beautiful word I've ever heard. This morning it's easy to turn off the ramblings of my busy mind. I close my eyes and listen to the quiet sounds around me. The drumming of a woodpecker. The fanning of leaves in tunnels over my head. The steady tinkling of the creek. Everything that is breathing and living and moving. They're all saying Mommy.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
happy birthday jack!
May 2nd, 2008, 11:30 am. At 5 cm dilated my labor was jump-started with pitocin and at 1:21 pm, a screechy 8 lb 13 oz baby boy was in my arms, pink and perfect. Just under 2 hours from start to finish. What a good boy. I remember feeling...terrible. Like I needed to throw up and needed to eat and needed a blanket and needed the heat turned down. I was shaking so badly I had to hand that precious bundle off to dad.
AJ, lit up like the 4th of July: "We have a SON! You're so cute buddy! Honey, what do you need? What can I get you?"
Kim: "Um, drugs?"
AJ (laughing): "I'm on it - be right back!"
"We'll take him down to the nursery, get some measurements and give him a bath", the nurses said. "That happened fast, why don't you rest for a bit and we'll bring him right back!" My post-delivery shock would not allow me to protest. They wheeled me into a recovery room after a brief visit from Aunt Carrie and gratefully, I crashed for a solid hour. When I woke up I ooohed and aaahed my way through a dozen phone pictures AJ had sent of Jack in the nursery and texted my reply: "I'm awake and I want my son!! Don't come back from the nursery without him!!" Moments later, in strolled a glowing AJ and his new boy. Jack buried his not so tiny body in my arms and we've been inseparable ever since.
As I reflect on the last several years with all their many ups and downs, I'm reminded of Jack's 2nd birthday. We gathered friends at the park on a cool and windy Saturday. I remember that he was distant, disinterested in presents, the cake, and the other kids coming and going. That was two years ago. We had just been told that it was likely Jack was autistic. We were at the beginning of our pain that this boy, who was once a happy, bouncing, smiling baby was now a frustrated, inconsolable child, unable to communicate and in a world of his own. I remember that he kept wanting to run away down the path at the park by himself - no, not by himself, but with me. And in my culminating worry about his development, I remember that it was a day God "caught" me right where I was and showed me a different and precious perspective. Here was my healthy, energetic little boy, wanting to steal away with his mom for a run down the path and a soak in the cold creek water. We laughed and splashed all alone, and I knew the way you know when you're front and center in a moment you will never forget with one of your kids. "You're going to remember this forever," I told myself, "because he won't always want you to scoop him up in your arms and steal him away." So that day is etched in my memory, and now when I look at this healthy, energetic, smiling, self-appointed "baby sheep" and recently converted "birthday enthusiast", I close my eyes and say, "Jesus, what a gift. Thank you."
Happy birthday Jack Jack. I love you so!
-Mommy sheep
Sunday, April 22, 2012
i don't like you
I just looked at the date of my last blog post. August 2011. There's not really an excuse other than August 2011 marked the beginning of a really tough year for AJ and I with school, and for all kinds of changes following our move to a new house and two kids in preschool. For those of you who still have us linked to your Google feed, thanks for checking in, and here is an extremely long-overdue update!
Jack is...just...totally amazing. He has had a GREAT year in preschool and is about to finish up. He will not go to summer school this summer, on the recommendation of his teachers. We're so thrilled they think he can handle going the summer without extended services, and we are happy to give him a break! His language is really coming along, he has made huge leaps in social interaction/relating, and we feel like he's at the point where he understands most things we are saying to him. It's really stunning to see his progress and I promise to post some pictures and video soon so you can see. He is enjoying books - BOOKS! With words and pictures! He can identify a variety of numbers and letters - he can spell his name. He can count, point, chatter and play games. All those little kid things you don't even notice are happening until they're not. If I camp out on this theme too long I swear I'll start sobbing and not be able to finish this post, so I'll just keep moving along...
Not long ago I was looking for some medical documentation and came across some notes from our pediatrician's office from when Jack was about 15 months old, and we were first starting to wonder if there was something going on. As I scrolled through the notes, one section caught my eye: "Mother reports Jack has said the word 'duck' and has made consonant sounds 'ma, da, and ba', but has since stopped saying them." I am happy to report that Jack says the word "duck" followed by a quacking sound every time we drive by water, and for the first time not two weeks ago called AJ "dad". First time. We are over the moon.
Speaking of firsts, I believe we've heard his first full sentence. He has been stringing a couple of words together for some time. It used to be only on prompt, but now he does it without cues: "Help please! Shoes off! All done! Come with me! Get down! Let's go!" and my recent favorite "Hey - wait a second!" All exclaimed with resonating drama worthy of a Broadway stage. I thought it couldn't get any better. But the last couple of weeks I've become aware of him saying this phrase over and over again when he gets upset, particularly when he gets upset that we've said no to something he wants. His eyes fill up with tears and he points at me and says this thing, and I've been listening so hard to understand it. Tonight I finally got it. Are you ready for this?
"I don't like YOU!!!" (With a dramatic finger point aimed at my eye.)
Ok. So I know there are no parenting awards handed out for laughing when your child says something disrespectful. But it feels like such a miracle that he is not only saying a FULL sentence with a subject pronoun, he's also using that sentence to express an emotion. THIS IS HUGE!!!!! Tonight I pretended not to understand so he would say it again. I hope he tells me he doesn't like me when I get home from this coffee shop later. Heck, I hope he tells you he doesn't like YOU the next time you see him! As a mother, I have never more enjoyed hearing one of my kids tell me they don't like me. Best feeling ever.
I did compose myself and (runner-up award here) correct his sincere but maybe not so nice expression. "Jackers, it's not very nice to say 'I don't like you'. You can say, 'Mom, I'm not happy'. Let's practice. Say 'Mom, I'm not happy.'"
"Mom. I not HAH-ppy."
I could eat him up.
Lately, I've become increasingly aware of something so profound. When we found out about Jack's autism, we prayed night and day the prayer of desperate parents: "God, please let this not be so. Let him fall off the spectrum. One day, let him wake up and be a typically developing kid. We need a miracle." As time has passed, and Jack has grown, and we have grown, I've realized that God did the miracle we prayed for in us, not Jack, who has been and always will be just our completely perfect gift. We've been changed forever by this little person he is. We've been dramatically impacted, forced to see the world around us in a different light. We're being taught important lessons about human value, about patience, about the power of support, about seeing past the obstacle to find the great treasure. It's 100% because of him. He is the miracle, and I'm just so grateful.
(Epilogue: We have so many fun things planned for this summer and just can't wait for it to begin! Stay tuned for much more frequent udpates, starting as soon as my finals are over on May 10, anticipated to be the next happiest day of my life. Can you bring wine coolers to a final? If not, that's totally bogus.)
Jack is...just...totally amazing. He has had a GREAT year in preschool and is about to finish up. He will not go to summer school this summer, on the recommendation of his teachers. We're so thrilled they think he can handle going the summer without extended services, and we are happy to give him a break! His language is really coming along, he has made huge leaps in social interaction/relating, and we feel like he's at the point where he understands most things we are saying to him. It's really stunning to see his progress and I promise to post some pictures and video soon so you can see. He is enjoying books - BOOKS! With words and pictures! He can identify a variety of numbers and letters - he can spell his name. He can count, point, chatter and play games. All those little kid things you don't even notice are happening until they're not. If I camp out on this theme too long I swear I'll start sobbing and not be able to finish this post, so I'll just keep moving along...
Not long ago I was looking for some medical documentation and came across some notes from our pediatrician's office from when Jack was about 15 months old, and we were first starting to wonder if there was something going on. As I scrolled through the notes, one section caught my eye: "Mother reports Jack has said the word 'duck' and has made consonant sounds 'ma, da, and ba', but has since stopped saying them." I am happy to report that Jack says the word "duck" followed by a quacking sound every time we drive by water, and for the first time not two weeks ago called AJ "dad". First time. We are over the moon.
Speaking of firsts, I believe we've heard his first full sentence. He has been stringing a couple of words together for some time. It used to be only on prompt, but now he does it without cues: "Help please! Shoes off! All done! Come with me! Get down! Let's go!" and my recent favorite "Hey - wait a second!" All exclaimed with resonating drama worthy of a Broadway stage. I thought it couldn't get any better. But the last couple of weeks I've become aware of him saying this phrase over and over again when he gets upset, particularly when he gets upset that we've said no to something he wants. His eyes fill up with tears and he points at me and says this thing, and I've been listening so hard to understand it. Tonight I finally got it. Are you ready for this?
"I don't like YOU!!!" (With a dramatic finger point aimed at my eye.)
Ok. So I know there are no parenting awards handed out for laughing when your child says something disrespectful. But it feels like such a miracle that he is not only saying a FULL sentence with a subject pronoun, he's also using that sentence to express an emotion. THIS IS HUGE!!!!! Tonight I pretended not to understand so he would say it again. I hope he tells me he doesn't like me when I get home from this coffee shop later. Heck, I hope he tells you he doesn't like YOU the next time you see him! As a mother, I have never more enjoyed hearing one of my kids tell me they don't like me. Best feeling ever.
I did compose myself and (runner-up award here) correct his sincere but maybe not so nice expression. "Jackers, it's not very nice to say 'I don't like you'. You can say, 'Mom, I'm not happy'. Let's practice. Say 'Mom, I'm not happy.'"
"Mom. I not HAH-ppy."
I could eat him up.
Lately, I've become increasingly aware of something so profound. When we found out about Jack's autism, we prayed night and day the prayer of desperate parents: "God, please let this not be so. Let him fall off the spectrum. One day, let him wake up and be a typically developing kid. We need a miracle." As time has passed, and Jack has grown, and we have grown, I've realized that God did the miracle we prayed for in us, not Jack, who has been and always will be just our completely perfect gift. We've been changed forever by this little person he is. We've been dramatically impacted, forced to see the world around us in a different light. We're being taught important lessons about human value, about patience, about the power of support, about seeing past the obstacle to find the great treasure. It's 100% because of him. He is the miracle, and I'm just so grateful.
(Epilogue: We have so many fun things planned for this summer and just can't wait for it to begin! Stay tuned for much more frequent udpates, starting as soon as my finals are over on May 10, anticipated to be the next happiest day of my life. Can you bring wine coolers to a final? If not, that's totally bogus.)
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