I think Wednesday may kill me.
I'm not exaggerating.
Okay, maybe a little...but not much.
I found out several years ago that sometimes the biggest struggle with homeschooling is actually, well, staying home. Especially with a big family, there's always something that needs to be done, something that needs to be purchased somewhere, and someone who wants to be involved in something somewhere else. And since we live in the middle of nowhere, every something that's somewhere else takes a whole lot of time. Now try saying that five times fast.
Each week, we have one day that loses a big chunk to our therapist, who is one of those "somewhere elses" that is super far away. About every other Friday, we have another day that we lose to our church homeschool group, either for a meeting or for a field trip. Since we're already losing an average of a whole day each week, and with a million other things that we either need to accomplish in a week or want to be involved in, I had to come up with some sort of plan to prevent running around town incessantly, so we would actually be at home sometimes. You know, to homeschool.
So, I came up with the Wednesday Plan.
The Wednesday Plan is really quite simple in design.
Simply ask yourself, "Can it be accomplished on Wednesday?"
Is the answer yes? Cool. Let's do it.
Is the answer no? Bummer. Not a chance.
Band on Wednesday morning? You bet!
Gymnastics on Wednesday morning? Sure!
Choir? On Wednesday? Certainly!
Ballet? What?! On Thursday?! Sorry, girls!
How about color guard instead? Wednesday afternoon!
Doctor appointments? Dentist? Portraits? We can squeeze those in, too...somewhere between band, choir, gymnastics, color guard and church. I've got a few hours off!
Grocery shopping...every week!
Clothes shopping....definitely!
Visit Great Grandma? Sure...we can throw that in sometimes, too.
Church fellowship dinner is a must.
Then children's choir.
And children's church.
Then a quick trip to the craft store, or a stop for gas on the way home.
Into the car seats, out of the car seats, into the car seats, out of the car seats *twitch*, into the car seats, out of the car seats *emergency diaper change*, into the car seats *twitch, twitch*, out of the car seats, into the car seats, out of the car seats...
Into the driveway.
Into the house.
Groceries into the house.
Groceries into the pantry.
Children into pajamas.
Children into bed.
Complain about Wednesday on blog.
*collapse*
Yes. I think Wednesday may kill me.
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Monday, March 24, 2014
Naughty
You know that child your mother cursed you with when you were younger?
You know the one I'm talking about; the one God, with shaking head and knowing smile, set aside for you in heaven on the day your finally-ran-out-of-patience mom first spouted the words: "Someday, I hope you have a child who does _________, just like you've done _________to me all these years!"
Yeah. That child. He just turned three.
Until I had this child, I thought the one before him was like me. And he is. Kinda. That little boy has a big personality and has emotions (and an occasional temper) as deep and torrential as oceans, just like his Mama. But this little boy is something else entirely.
My three-year-old son is me in a small male body.
Decisive. Argumentative.
Creative. Musical. Entertaining.
Rarely afraid of conflict, self-assured.
Daring. Boundary-pushing.
Happy, content.
Joyful.
We are strong personalities,
my little clone and I.
A few months ago, this little bundle of personality went through a rough patch with his behavior. Unfortunately for him, after mothering RAD kids, there is virtually nothing he can do that will phase his Mama, even when he really, really wants to. Believe me...he's tried, but I've pretty much seen it all and am alarmed by very few "normal" child behaviors. Sometimes I feel bad for the poor little guy; he gives it his best, but when even the most impressive of toddler tantrums earns a cheerful "Let me know when you're done!" from the one person you're trying to get a rise out of, it puts an oppositional toddler in a tough spot.
So Mr. K started getting naughtier, and naughtier and naughtier.
And I made a big mistake. I started telling him he was naughty.
I may have said:
"Don't be naughty." "You're being naughty."
"That's naughty!" "Don't be a naughty boy!"
But he heard:
"I'm naughty." "I'm naughty." "I'm naughty."
"I'm naughty." "I'm naughty."
It's been my experience that a child will meet your expectations. They internalize the things you say about them, and then rise or fall to that standard. I know this. I've learned this in the past. And yet, I still spent weeks unintentionally programming my little son to think of himself as "naughty." And guess what? He kept getting naughtier.
One day in January, I picked Mr. K up when he was misbehaving, and I said something like "Don't do that, you're a nice boy." He looked me right in the eye and said, "No, I'm not! I'm a naughty boy!" He insisted he was naughty so many times in the following days that I couldn't overlook the fact that he was using my words to describe himself. He was becoming who I told him he was!
I've made a few changes in how I discipline my son. I don't allow his "naughtiness" to go unnoticed (or unpunished, when needed), but I've changed my words and softened them with hugs. For example, when Mr. K grabs his toy out of the baby's hands, making him cry, I don't tell him he's being naughty. Instead, I say something like "Oh! Poor baby, he wants to play with your toys, too! What can you find to share with him? You're a good sharer." Admittedly, my obstinate toddler stared at me peculiarly when I first tried this, but he's starting to internalize that he's a "good sharer", and has started sharing on his own. Now, when he tries to take something from the baby, I just remind him what a good sharer he is, and he usually gives it right back. His behavior has changed by leaps and bounds, and while he's still a handful, it's obvious he feels better about himself because he's learning he's a "nice boy", a "sweet boy", and a "good sharer." He's a different child than he was when he thought he was "naughty."
We have a tough job, us parents. The words we choose are the words that our children will use to define themselves, and when I think of all the words I use with my own kids in an average day, it terrifies me. Who do they believe they are, deep down? Lazy? Unmotivated? Mean? Messy? Argumentative? Irresponsible? What do they hear me saying when I tell them they asked a silly question, or point out that they're being irrational? When I tell them to act their age?
I don't want my thoughtless words to dictate who my children will be; I want my kids to believe that they are capable, fun, helpful, nice, intelligent, motivated, responsible, empowered children of God.
I have some work to do.
With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. James 3:9-10
You know the one I'm talking about; the one God, with shaking head and knowing smile, set aside for you in heaven on the day your finally-ran-out-of-patience mom first spouted the words: "Someday, I hope you have a child who does _________, just like you've done _________to me all these years!"
Yeah. That child. He just turned three.
Until I had this child, I thought the one before him was like me. And he is. Kinda. That little boy has a big personality and has emotions (and an occasional temper) as deep and torrential as oceans, just like his Mama. But this little boy is something else entirely.
My three-year-old son is me in a small male body.
Decisive. Argumentative.
Creative. Musical. Entertaining.
Rarely afraid of conflict, self-assured.
Daring. Boundary-pushing.
Happy, content.
Joyful.
We are strong personalities,
my little clone and I.
A few months ago, this little bundle of personality went through a rough patch with his behavior. Unfortunately for him, after mothering RAD kids, there is virtually nothing he can do that will phase his Mama, even when he really, really wants to. Believe me...he's tried, but I've pretty much seen it all and am alarmed by very few "normal" child behaviors. Sometimes I feel bad for the poor little guy; he gives it his best, but when even the most impressive of toddler tantrums earns a cheerful "Let me know when you're done!" from the one person you're trying to get a rise out of, it puts an oppositional toddler in a tough spot.
So Mr. K started getting naughtier, and naughtier and naughtier.
And I made a big mistake. I started telling him he was naughty.
I may have said:
"Don't be naughty." "You're being naughty."
"That's naughty!" "Don't be a naughty boy!"
But he heard:
"I'm naughty." "I'm naughty." "I'm naughty."
"I'm naughty." "I'm naughty."
It's been my experience that a child will meet your expectations. They internalize the things you say about them, and then rise or fall to that standard. I know this. I've learned this in the past. And yet, I still spent weeks unintentionally programming my little son to think of himself as "naughty." And guess what? He kept getting naughtier.
One day in January, I picked Mr. K up when he was misbehaving, and I said something like "Don't do that, you're a nice boy." He looked me right in the eye and said, "No, I'm not! I'm a naughty boy!" He insisted he was naughty so many times in the following days that I couldn't overlook the fact that he was using my words to describe himself. He was becoming who I told him he was!
I've made a few changes in how I discipline my son. I don't allow his "naughtiness" to go unnoticed (or unpunished, when needed), but I've changed my words and softened them with hugs. For example, when Mr. K grabs his toy out of the baby's hands, making him cry, I don't tell him he's being naughty. Instead, I say something like "Oh! Poor baby, he wants to play with your toys, too! What can you find to share with him? You're a good sharer." Admittedly, my obstinate toddler stared at me peculiarly when I first tried this, but he's starting to internalize that he's a "good sharer", and has started sharing on his own. Now, when he tries to take something from the baby, I just remind him what a good sharer he is, and he usually gives it right back. His behavior has changed by leaps and bounds, and while he's still a handful, it's obvious he feels better about himself because he's learning he's a "nice boy", a "sweet boy", and a "good sharer." He's a different child than he was when he thought he was "naughty."
We have a tough job, us parents. The words we choose are the words that our children will use to define themselves, and when I think of all the words I use with my own kids in an average day, it terrifies me. Who do they believe they are, deep down? Lazy? Unmotivated? Mean? Messy? Argumentative? Irresponsible? What do they hear me saying when I tell them they asked a silly question, or point out that they're being irrational? When I tell them to act their age?
I don't want my thoughtless words to dictate who my children will be; I want my kids to believe that they are capable, fun, helpful, nice, intelligent, motivated, responsible, empowered children of God.
I have some work to do.
With the tongue we praise our Lord and Father, and with it we curse human beings, who have been made in God’s likeness. Out of the same mouth come praise and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this should not be. James 3:9-10
Monday, February 10, 2014
Marcus Gunn
I have this little boy. This rough-and-tumble, adventurous, brilliant, sensitive, kind-hearted, loyal-to-the-last, slightly stubborn and quick-tempered warrior of a frog-loving little boy.
And I have no words to describe how my heart overflows at the thought of him.
Oh, he's the one that, a few years back, planned to marry me, alright. Until Daddy said I was already married to him, and that he's not willing to share. Then my little suitor settled on growing up and building his own house in the back yard, so he could just walk in through the back door anytime he wanted to see his Mama.
He's the one that somberly informed me that if there was ever a war nearby, he would fight right in front of me so no bad guys could get to me. I have no doubt in my mind that he would, too; he comes running to my rescue whenever Daddy teases me, growling ferociously and facing even the most dreaded tickle hand in an effort to protect me, the one he loves more than any other.
This is the same little boy that insists that he's never getting married.
"I never want to have to love another lady more than I love you, Mama."
Be still my heart.
I adore this boy.
This past week, he started asking questions...questions I knew he would ask someday soon.
Mr. C has a rare phenomenon called Marcus Gunn Jaw Winking Syndrome. Never heard of it? Not surprising. Neither had we, until a few months after he was born. It felt like a heavy blow when we first heard the diagnosis:
Marcus Gunn Jaw Winking Syndrome.
Miswired nerves connecting jaw movement to eyelid.
Prominent winking of affected eyelid, most noticeable while chewing/drinking.
Permanent condition.
Ptosis (droopy eyelid).
Possible need for corrective surgery.
Possible repeat surgeries needed every few years as child grows.
Potential for permanent damage of sight in affected eye if not addressed.
When you have a newborn baby - a tiny, helpless piece of your heart that lives and breathes on his own - and he's lying there newborn-limp up against your body, as if your mere presence could solve all the world's problems...when you're in a dark square room with light and chair and white coat and file folder, notes scribbled down...when your throat is dry and your head is spinning...when you're in that place...
...there are few feelings that could be worse than learning that there is something permanently "wrong" with your child.
And then the shock wears off, and weeks and months go by, and you get a second opinion from a great pediatric ophthalmologist who reassures you and promises routine monitoring to catch when or if surgery is needed. And things get a bit less scary.
In the meantime, you fall more head-over-heels in love with this little winking baby whose face lights up when you enter the room. You soon forget that the world may see a flaw in his precious face. His winking eyelid...the way it flutters when you nurse him or when he chews his first foods, the way he pops his eye open as wide as his smile when he sees you, and how he lets it fall closed in the bright sunlight. The way you can always tell how tired he is by how much of his eye is opened, and oh, how that little wink melts your heart into a puddle on the floor! You soon learn that there is, indeed, nothing "wrong" with your little son, and that he couldn't be more perfect.
Marcus Gunn Ptosis is just a part of who he is.
Mr. C will be six in a few weeks, and we haven't talked with him much about his condition, although we haven't ignored it, either. He sees his ophthalmologist every six months, and has worn glasses since he was two years old. For my husband and I, for our other kids, and for our close friends and family, it's never been a big deal. But I knew the day was coming that it would become a big deal to him.
Some time last week, Mr. C informed me that his eyelid moved up and down every time he took a drink. Did I know that? I said that I did. He wanted to know why his did that, when no one else's did, so we talked about how he's wired a bit differently than most other people. I told him about Marcus Gunn Jaw Winking Syndrome. We practiced saying it right then, and also a few days later when he brought it up again. It's obviously been on his mind.
The truth is, I've been dreading the beginning of this time in his life: the time when he notices he's a little bit different, and the time when other kids are quick to point it out. As the "chubby girl" and the "nerdy boy", my husband and I know that kids can be mean. Ruthless, actually. Our little guy has such an incredible heart, and I can't stand the thought of him being tormented.
Please, World, be gentle with my little boy. I love him so.
Forget the notion that there is something "wrong" with him, and remember that the only thing that is wrong is the expectation that we should all be the same.
Teach your children, World, that differences are interesting and not bad.
That perfection is being the best you that you can be, and not being just like everybody else.
And remember, World, that behind every "imperfection", there is a sweet, gentle (and perhaps frog-loving) spirit that simply wants to be accepted for the amazing person that they are.
Please, World, be kind to my son.
If you have a Marcus Gunn Jaw Wink, or are the parent of someone who does, please join me over at https://www.facebook.com/MarcusGunnJawWink! I'm trying to find others so my son knows he isn't the only one.
And I have no words to describe how my heart overflows at the thought of him.
 |
| First Week of Homeschool Fall 2013 |
He's the one that somberly informed me that if there was ever a war nearby, he would fight right in front of me so no bad guys could get to me. I have no doubt in my mind that he would, too; he comes running to my rescue whenever Daddy teases me, growling ferociously and facing even the most dreaded tickle hand in an effort to protect me, the one he loves more than any other.
This is the same little boy that insists that he's never getting married.
"I never want to have to love another lady more than I love you, Mama."
Be still my heart.
I adore this boy.
This past week, he started asking questions...questions I knew he would ask someday soon.
Mr. C has a rare phenomenon called Marcus Gunn Jaw Winking Syndrome. Never heard of it? Not surprising. Neither had we, until a few months after he was born. It felt like a heavy blow when we first heard the diagnosis:
Marcus Gunn Jaw Winking Syndrome.
Miswired nerves connecting jaw movement to eyelid.
Prominent winking of affected eyelid, most noticeable while chewing/drinking.
Permanent condition.
Ptosis (droopy eyelid).
Possible need for corrective surgery.
Possible repeat surgeries needed every few years as child grows.
Potential for permanent damage of sight in affected eye if not addressed.
When you have a newborn baby - a tiny, helpless piece of your heart that lives and breathes on his own - and he's lying there newborn-limp up against your body, as if your mere presence could solve all the world's problems...when you're in a dark square room with light and chair and white coat and file folder, notes scribbled down...when your throat is dry and your head is spinning...when you're in that place...
...there are few feelings that could be worse than learning that there is something permanently "wrong" with your child.
 |
| Mr. C at age two |
In the meantime, you fall more head-over-heels in love with this little winking baby whose face lights up when you enter the room. You soon forget that the world may see a flaw in his precious face. His winking eyelid...the way it flutters when you nurse him or when he chews his first foods, the way he pops his eye open as wide as his smile when he sees you, and how he lets it fall closed in the bright sunlight. The way you can always tell how tired he is by how much of his eye is opened, and oh, how that little wink melts your heart into a puddle on the floor! You soon learn that there is, indeed, nothing "wrong" with your little son, and that he couldn't be more perfect.
Marcus Gunn Ptosis is just a part of who he is.
Mr. C will be six in a few weeks, and we haven't talked with him much about his condition, although we haven't ignored it, either. He sees his ophthalmologist every six months, and has worn glasses since he was two years old. For my husband and I, for our other kids, and for our close friends and family, it's never been a big deal. But I knew the day was coming that it would become a big deal to him.
Some time last week, Mr. C informed me that his eyelid moved up and down every time he took a drink. Did I know that? I said that I did. He wanted to know why his did that, when no one else's did, so we talked about how he's wired a bit differently than most other people. I told him about Marcus Gunn Jaw Winking Syndrome. We practiced saying it right then, and also a few days later when he brought it up again. It's obviously been on his mind.
The truth is, I've been dreading the beginning of this time in his life: the time when he notices he's a little bit different, and the time when other kids are quick to point it out. As the "chubby girl" and the "nerdy boy", my husband and I know that kids can be mean. Ruthless, actually. Our little guy has such an incredible heart, and I can't stand the thought of him being tormented.
Please, World, be gentle with my little boy. I love him so.
Forget the notion that there is something "wrong" with him, and remember that the only thing that is wrong is the expectation that we should all be the same.
Teach your children, World, that differences are interesting and not bad.
That perfection is being the best you that you can be, and not being just like everybody else.
And remember, World, that behind every "imperfection", there is a sweet, gentle (and perhaps frog-loving) spirit that simply wants to be accepted for the amazing person that they are.
Please, World, be kind to my son.
 |
| Thanksgiving 2013 |
If you have a Marcus Gunn Jaw Wink, or are the parent of someone who does, please join me over at https://www.facebook.com/MarcusGunnJawWink! I'm trying to find others so my son knows he isn't the only one.
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