Say it with me now ... preventable !

Well....

My son has distinct issues with listening. He cannot retain things for long periods of time if they are instructions. Or most things for that matter. He can remember things to do with TV shows or movies or books. He can remember things that have to do with him growing up, etc. However - day to day instructions just seem to baffle him. Hence our story for today.

I preface this by either illuminating or reminding our readers that Thomas' latest adventure included lighting a match in the boy's bathroom at school. This ties in to our word for tonight - preventable.

Michael and I are sitting on the couch TV surfing. Loads of mindless for the masses reality TV that quite frankly makes me ill. Who gives a flying crap about Kim Kardashian anyway ? She looks like a brainless idiot who cannot fathom that the world does not owe her squat. Or Dina Lohan who is the world's worst mother next to Mommy Dearest. But I digress ....

As we start to head for bed it's now after 10pm and this little voice calls down the stairs - Mommmmmmm. Quite rudely I say "What ?!". Please bear in mind I've had a long day. The little voice says - "You're going to be mad aren't you ?" At this point I'm already annoyed so I say "yes." I then discover that my son has taken his lovely putty which has been given to him by the occupational therapist and has somehow got it in his hair.

I preface this by saying I have repeatedly asked Thomas not to keep the putty in his room. I have repeatedly removed the putty and put it downstairs. And I have repeatedly found it back in his room. Now we go back to the whole instruction thing which we've already covered.

So I see his rather large clump of silver shiny goo firmly ensconced in my child's georgous auburn hair and I say, "idiot". No pretty language. No feel better language. Just "idiot". I swear. Idiot, idiot, idiot. So we head to the bathroom and under brighter lights I see that Wile E. Coyote has got this stuff matted in his hair and at this point it's not coming out quietly. So I decide to go to town on the hair. We comb and comb and comb. Putty is coming out but so is hair. Not a lot but enough that the eyes start to water and the boy starts to beg for Daddy's brilliant suggestion of shaving his head. To this I say no. To this I start to sing a little song which goes to the tune of It's a Small World. Sing it with me won't you ??

It's a world of laughter, a world of tears
It's a world of hope and a world of fears
There's so much that we share
That it's time we aware
To leave the putty downstairs

Then we go to the chorus. Quite original I think:

Leave the putty downstairs
Leave the putty downstairs
Leave the putty downstairs
Or it will get in your hair.

My son at this point is not finding this amusing. His head hurts. He is tired. And his mother is making unholy fun of him for getting putty in his hair. At this point I take further pleasure in using this moment to define Preventable. Our word for the day. I say to my son, "how many times have I told you to leave the putty downstairs ?" He replies through tears and snuffles - "About five thousand". "Close" I say. "This, my son, is a perfect example of preventable". I go on to illustrate that he and I both could have done without this moment in our lives and I ask him again what Preventable means. He forgets. I illustrate again how the fire at school was Preventable. I ask him again what Preventable means. He remembers. As we go to bed, "What is our word for tonight Thomas ?" "PREVENTABLE Mom - I get it !"

Sometimes my son has to learn things the hard way. I did too. Sometimes it doesn't pay to be super sweet and smothering when he pulls a bone headed move because he won't remember the lesson in all of it. Sometimes it pays to sing a little song about the word of the day: Preventable. Sing it with me won't you ? I'm just hoping my next song won't have the word Contraception in it.

Worth the Fight

Well....

Doesn't that sound like an imposing title ? Worth the Fight ! Is she going to get her butt kicking boots on again and tirade against those who don't help her son ? No.

This is something that I needed to explain to my son one day. A few months back, he asked a question that I've since forgotten which prompted me to reply, "Because you are worth it." I explained to him that I will fight his whole life to get him what he needs. As my mother has proven time and again, you never stop caring for your kids. My children will be no exception. My son requires a little more effort but I fight for my daughter as well. She is currently being bullied by a "queen bee" who has admitted that she finds Vanessa threatening. She says she is jealous of what my daughter can do. GOOD ! My daughter has a lot to be proud of and she shouldn't be made to feel bad about it. We ended up having a long talk about jealousy and being true to yourself. I looked her in the eye and said, " I believe in you and I will always believe in you. You are smart, funny, loving and cute and you have no reason not to believe in yourself." She seemed to get it and appreciate that my sentiments came from the heart. Having said that, I would like to take little miss Queen Bee and knock her chicklets in.

Back to my boy.

My son will be getting approved shortly for technological help in the classroom. He will be receiving a laptop, scanner, printer and four different softwares so that he can achieve his potential in school. It has taken me three years to get this but it will be worth the fight. My son is smart. My son is creative. My son loves to read. He does not like to learn in the classroom. He cannot retain what is being said to him as his memory is so poor. He cannot follow directions well as his ADD takes him to places far beyond the walls of his classroom. He needs this help and I have great hope for it. He will now be able to show them what he is capable of. All along the school has said, we know he can do more - thank God they hadn't completely written him off ! There will be a special place by the hobs of hell if that technology does not come through and God alone will not be able to protect those who deny my son what he needs. The shit kickers will come out.

But let's be positive. I am going to be cautiously optomisitic that the school board will fulfill it's obligation to help my son and implement the recommendations of the psychologist. I am going to remain hopeful that the special resource team will continue to get the support they need in order to continue helping my son. I am going to remain certain that if any of this falls apart and hinders my son's education, that not only will they be aware that he is worth the fight but they will feel the steely toe of my shit kickers right where it counts.

My children will always be worth the fight and I hope that my actions on their behalf prove this to them. I hope they grow up confident knowing that I will back them up and be there for them always and forever. I think I am succeeding as evidenced by this little tale - One day we were discussing the importance of stranger safety. I was drilling in to their heads that not all strangers are friendly and some might try to take them from me. My son piped up and said, "I don't worry about that Mom. You'd find me." Then my daughter piped up and said, "Yeah - and then she'd kill them". Out of the mouths of babes....

He wants to belong

Well...

Christmas is over with much ado. My boy enjoyed himself as he always does. He has believed in magic for as long as I can remember and I value his imagination even more at these times. His belief is guileless which I truly enjoy. His favorite present ? His anatomy book from my brother. All other present opening stopped at that point. He was so engrossed in the book he didn't even realize he had more presents to open. My girl ? She tore through them with abandon. She refers to Santa and I think she is trying to still believe but it appears to be becoming a challenge. I've told her that I believe in Santa with a true heart and I do. I believe in the spirit of giving. I believe in looking out for others. I believe in the happiness I see on my children's face Christmas morning. I thoroughly enjoy that. We weren't able to give as much as I'd have liked to Charity this year. I did donate to the food bank and to the Salvation Army for the teachers but we didn't do toys this year. Next year I will make sure.

During all this hullabaloo, Thomas and I had a conversation that showed me my boy is changing and we are heading in to a new time in his life. He wants to join a "club" at school and they won't let him. This has never seemed to bother him before. He seemed to be content to just do his own thing. Now it seems to be an issue. Not large. Not insurmountable but definitely signifying change. I'm not sure what this "club" is about but it involves boys and his friend Jeffrey is campaining to have him included. God love Jeffrey. I'm not sure where this is heading or what I can do to help him. This will be an adventure for both of us as he discovers that he is different from other kids and I hold back from strangling the kids who make him realize this.

My boy is growing in many ways. I hope he never loses the wonder of Santa. I know I haven't. But I hope he is able to change and grow in ways that allow him to fit in better at school. If it doesn't bother him, I am going to try to not let it bother me. Maybe we both need to grow and change during this time. Maybe next year growth and change will be on my list for the jolly man to bring. Chocolate just makes my butt bigger and gives me migraines anyway...

The best of 2008 to all.

Steel Toed Boots

Well...

I have begun to search out other bloggers. I have run in to some odd ones in the past so I steared away for a while. I read one today and she posted the awful things people said about her generating a thank you. That kind of language just makes me ill. I cuss. I could make a trucker blush kind of cuss. But some words just shouldn't be said and others don't need to be used to make a point. Ick.

However, on my journey today I met Wacky Mom. She has been blogging for a bit. While I haven't been able to delve too far into her history, she reminds me of me. A fighter. Strong willed. Fierce. Someone who will go the mat for her kids and take whomever is in the way down with them. I am glad to know that there are other mothers out there like me. I am sad to know we even need to fight this hard. I commented to her that when I was born, God gave me permanent steel toed boots. Of course upon my entry into this world I never realized I would have to spend the rest of my life kicking and screaming. I guess He knew what I would need in this life and started me off with the right equipment to do the job.

I need them to kick the butts of all the doctors who told me my son's skin would never get better. I need them to kick the butts of all the doctors who told me to let it go and just drug him up. I need them to kick the butts of all the people who didn't do their job for my son. I need them to kick the butts of all the people who stood in my way and told me it couldn't be done. I need them to kick the butts of the parents who still send peanut products to my son's school and endanger his life. I need them to kick the butts of all the school board officials who fight me every year about what my son needs. I need them to kick the butts of anyone who tells me what I don't want to hear.

Some days I just want to take the damn boots off and rest. Some days I just want to kick back and not have to fight. Some days I just want to lay like broccoli. To have peace from worry and fear. To pass a day where my son is not taking up most of the room in my head. He can have my heart. He had it shortly after he was born. He will have it for the rest of his life. But my head is my private space. My thinking space. My dealing with it space. Sometimes it gets very crowded in there as my emailing at 2am this morning will attest.

I will fight for my son for the rest of his life. I will wake up every day and take up my steel toed boots to battle the world. He knows this. He has said to me when we discuss about strangers - I don't worry Mama. You would find me. You know what - I would. And they had better watch out because I will have my steel toes on. And I will take them down kicking and fighting.

My son causes large emotions in me. He frustrates me. He scares me. He fills my heart. He squeezes tears from my eyes. He makes me laugh. He makes me shout. He makes me proud. He makes me think. He makes me ponder my place in this world. I guess my place in this world is right where it should be. Right here. Right now. Putting down the steel toes for a good night's rest so I can be ready to pick them up again tomorrow and fight the good fight.

Thank you Wacky mom. I look forward to getting to know another mother who proudly wears her steel toes.

Keeping up with the Jones'

Well...

So my friend says to me she says - well you must see my new blog. I says to myself I says - ok I must. Well it's so darn pretty I immediately think - I must keep up. So off I trot to keep up and of course I can't pick the damn available templates, I have to go in search of "the" template. It's now been over an hour and after wiping out my previous blog but not quite, I found my new template and set it up. And quite frankly I like it - it's kind of weird like me and my boy. Colorful, quirky, fun, different - there are worse things to be called.

It's funny how I'm funny about change. I like it and loathe it. I want to keep up and I don't. What I fail to realise is that I have a choice and my son doesn't. It strikes me sometimes as I write the challenges he will face and he doesn't even know it. I don't think it enters his conciousness - thank God. If he knew what he faced he'd start drinking. God knows I've often thought of that particular coping method. But I think my son has the right idea. He deals in the here and now with a little foray into the past every now and again. He doesn't worry about the next day, never mind next year. He just is. He just goes along his merry way and doesn't worry about the small stuff.

One then has to examine the small stuff. What is small stuff really ? Does it matter that he wanted to wear his long johns under his pants in 26 degree heat today? Yes and no as he was going on a field trip to the RBG. Can you say hot and itchy ? Does it matter that he relates all things according to how old he was at the time ? Not really. That's just how he puts things in place for him. Does it matter that his ears are for decoration only ? Yes and no depending on which side of the desk you are sitting on. God Bless you Mr. Highley - you had no idea did you ? Does it matter that he talks about babies ? Hell, at least it isn't fire he perseverates on. Does it matter that my heart breaks when I think of what lies in store for him ? Yes and no - it's my problem not his. It only matters when I let it out in front of him - the worry and the fear. It can manifest itself as frustration and bad temper. Then I make the small stuff into big stuff which is kind of dumb of me.

My son has the right idea. Why sweat the small stuff ? Why indeed.

To His Success

Well...

So as per my last blog, my son was at camp and I was sitting here quivering with the need to go and get him. I controlled my quiver and remained home with my daughter. Focusing on her for a day was nice and I think she enjoyed it as well. Suprisingly, I really missed my son. When you have a special needs child and don't get a break, a couple of days apart are a dream. My husband and I have had one weekend together, child free in 9 years. Not a ton of time to focus on being Michael and Elizabeth and not just Mom and Dad. Thank God for Cubs and camping trips.

The Cubs and camping trips have given my son many things. He comes home proud of his new skills. He gets the chance to work on group skills and social skills. He is able to demonstrate his growing maturity. He is able to find some independence in a safe environment that doesn't freak me out. He is able to make friends who get to see him as more like them than they may have thought. Because I work full time, I am not able to give Thomas everything I think he needs. Sounds odd, but I can't run him around to groups which he would probably benefit by and I feel bad about that. I'm sure I'm short changing him somewhere. Cubs gives him some of what I can't and I hope to keep him in it for life.

As the story continues, I am still sitting at home all a quiver with anxiety. Slowly that fades and after no phone calls, I know he is ok. Turns out he was better than ok. Despite one small impulse accident, we are advised that he was one of the best behaved kids all weekend. He helped out, he went fishing, he paid attention. All without Ritalin I might add, which I had sent for him. Both Michael and I lavished him with praise and told him how proud we were. You could see he was too ! Something that is hard for Thomas is to be proud of himself. He doesn't seem to think about it all that much and might not really understand what it means, but when it happens it shows. I don't think it's a need for him like typical children. If it happens, great. If not, life goes on. What a great philosophy. The downside is, it doesn't really give him any ambition. We'll work on that.

So after all my quivering and worry my son scores another notch on the belt of life. He shows that he is maturing. He showed that he is changing and growing. When it happens right in front of you, sometimes it's hard to see. These times away from him give us that chance to see him in a new light. They give him the chance to grow and learn which is what he really needs. It benefits not only him but our family which is fabulous.

So let's raise a glass and give a cheer. To Thomas and all his successes. May you grow strong and proud and know that we love you just the way you are.

Different Views

Well....

My husband continues to surprise me in enforcing how differently men and women see situations. I read him my last blog and he balked at the word "save" in reference to our son. He doesn't see my efforts on Thomas' behalf as a mission. He just sees it as how it is. Life.

It's funny that I have fought for my son for the past 7 years because that is what a parent should do. I've made it my mission in life to help my son. To protect him. To help him grow and learn. Again, what every parent should do. My husband just sees it as Thomas and no more than that. He doesn't attach the "mother bear" feelings that I do. He doesn't see every challenge as a fight as I do. He doesn't blow things out of proportion about Thomas as I do.

When it comes to Thomas, my reactions are larger than for Vanessa. Not because I love her less but I know that she is ok. She is strong. She is for want of a better word "normal". I feel pride for her and I feel enormous love for her. I would stand in front of a train for her. I would die for her with no questions asked. It's the every day things that are different. I don't hurt as much when she hurts. I don't get as angry when things happen to her. I don't react as largely when she ticks me off. I know she will get through this life and be whatever she wants to be. I know she will grow up and stand her ground and be a wonderful woman. There are no such certainties for Thomas. His whole life has been a struggle against the foods he eats, the clothes he wears, the chemicals I use to clean, the school work that over whelms him, the asthma that takes his breath away, the anaphylaxis that could kill him and the skin he used to rip open. He has never had it easy.

I think that is why I see my mission for Thomas in terms of saving him. I want to be forgiven for not getting him better quicker. I want to be forgiven for not putting in the time I could or should in helping his behaviours. I want to be forgiven for feeling resentful that these things have happened to my boy. So I crusade. I lash out. I fight. I want the world to know that my boy matters to me despite my failings of him. I want people to see how much I love him and to forgive me for not doing more. How odd of me.

I never looked at it in terms of me. I don't tend to be self centered that way. I do have the gift for introspection but usually about my behaviors for certain situations. I have always carried a load of guilt about my son. That I could have not eaten peanut butter while pregnant. That I should not have gone to Florida while pregnant and induced labor. That I wasn't taller for him to have more room and not squash his head. But I never thought in terms of forgiveness. Hmmm.

So once again, my husband inadvertently teaches me something about myself. He sees Thomas as Thomas. No more no less. He doesn't think all that much about Thomas' various diagnoses. He just accepts that Thomas is how Thomas is. I think about it all the time. I fight all the time. And now I see why. I have placed too much responsibility on my shoulders for the state of my son. I have placed too much importance on myself as for the state of my son. I have placed too little acceptance on the state of my son. Acceptance and forgiveness is what I need to fight for. Acceptance for what is and forgiveness for what I couldn't change.

Darn husbands. Making us think all the time. Maybe mothers everywhere should take a page out of the father of their children's books and stop over thinking it. Maybe look at it from their point of view. It does seem a much more simple way to be. Darn husbands. Who asked for their point of view anyway ?

The Laugh

Well....

Kids laugh at the darndest things. Farts. Burps. The words fart and burp. Anything to do with poop. Cartoons. Animals. Basically anything that farts, burps or poops. Kind of strange if you think about it. I am a world class farter so my kids have plenty to laugh about.

What concerns me is how we lose the ability to laugh as we age. We worry if people are laughing at us and not with us. We worry if it is the right thing to do. We wonder if it really is funny and by the time we're done analyzing it, it ain't so funny no more. So gradually we laugh less. What a shame.

I want to belly laugh. I want to laugh until milk flies out my nose. I want to laugh until I fart. I want to laugh until my sides ache. I have done the milk thing before but it was water and good thing too as the friends I was playing Euchre with might have had an unpleasant experience as well. Good thing they laughed.

I have a friend who needs to laugh. She needs a good belly ripping, nose snorting, something coming out of an orifice somewhere kind of laugh. She needs to laugh with abandon. She needs to laugh with freedom. She needs to laugh without worrying about farting. She needs to laugh it all away.

I have made it my mission to help my friend and I laugh more. I'm not sure how but I think it is a worthy cause. Some days there is so little to laugh over. Having an A child can make the laughs hard to find. They can make you laugh because you are so hysterical but that usually ends in tears and is not the kind of laughter that I mean. I want to laugh my ass off literally and figuratively. I want to belly laugh for hours or at least 10 minutes.

I've had missions to get through my dad's cancer. I've had missions to get through my parent's divorce. I've had missions to get through my mom's alcoholism. I've had missions to get through my dad's death. I've had missions to punish lawyers. I am currently on a mission to save my son. I think I have forgotten that I am a worthy mission. My sanity and well being are a worthy mission. So my mission now is to laugh as much as possible. I plan to take my friend along for the mission as she is valuable to me as a friend and fellow A parent. She is valuable to me as someone I respect and admire. She is someone who won't be disgusted if I fart or snort while I laugh, which is very important.

So look out world, I am on a mission. I've been successful so far on my missions and I don't plan to fail now. There are two important people at stake here and I happen to be one of them. And I plan to LAUGH.

hahahahahahahahahahahah oooohhhhh hahahahahahahahah ooooohhhh fart hahahahahahahaha burp hahahahahahahah snort hahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa !!!

Much better.

So Far Away....

Well....

I never thought it would happen. I never thought I would be in that place where I could say to someone - It will get better.

Just yesterday I held my new son in my arms and looked at his face wondering who he was and what he would be. Just yesterday I helped him to walk, to talk, to sing. Just yesterday I rejoiced over his first steps, his first words, his first song. Just yesterday he was my little boy and we hadn't begun our journey yet.

Then our journey began and I wondered new things. Would he ever walk strong ? Would he ever talk strong ? Would he ever be able to learn like the other children ? Would anyone ever get him like I was trying to get him.

As we continued on our journey, time passed slowly and then sped by. Suddenly we were ready for school. Suddenly yesterday had been left behind and my boy was no longer my baby. Suddenly I wanted yesterday so badly that it hurt. I wanted that time before I knew what the answers to some of my questions were. I wanted that time before I knew how hard he would have to fight. Before I knew how hard I would have to fight for him. Yesterday seemed so nice.

Now we are at today and I can look back at yesterday and not want it so badly, not look at it so wistfully. Today he walks strong. Today he talks strong. Today people do get him as I do and sometimes better. Today he is my growing boy who no longer itches, no longer has to cry, no longer has to fight quite as hard. Today I have answers and I see hope. Today I see his future is not so bleak. Today I see the future full of promise. Today, yesterday is a pleasant memory. Tomorrow will be even better. I can see it now and it's not so far away.

My boy. My heart.

Shot to the heart

Well...

We went to the park tonight. Something that millions of parents with millions of kids do every day. We hope at least. There were two boys there that know my son and not that they had to but they didn't play with him. They were kicking a ball around and didn't even give him a second glance. They knew he was there as I had said hello. My heart fell.

Now these are not kids that he plays with normally. Not kids he hangs out with at school. Had it been Jeffery or Michelle they would have said hi and played. I realize this. However, that "inner child", how I hate that term, reared it's insecure little head and said, Hey, why don't you want to play with my kid ? He's a cool kid. He's a fun kid. I felt hurt and they hadn't done anything wrong.

My A friend wrote about her fears in school for her A child. The same as mine. Will he cope ? Will he behave ? Will he manage to make friends ? I am five years ahead of her in this journey with an A child and the worries haven't changed. It does get easier. It doesn't hurt quite so much. But it's still there. Strange how after all these years away from the time I was going back to school and I still get that lurch for my kids. Will they have fun ? Will they get hurt ? Will they succeed ? Does their backpack look cool ?

My fears had kept their distance until today. I had been managing quite nicely but not thinking about it. I keep telling myself he has Jeffery. I keep telling myself that there are kids out there who like him and see past the weird. Then I wonder where they are.

Parents will say - Thomas is so sweet. Thomas is so polite. Thomas is so funny. Thomas is such a nice boy. And he is. I love that about him. He is inherently sweet and funny and lovable. All the characteristics he needs to get the crap kicked out of him in school. He is also emotionally behind his peers and immature, which makes it hard for them to relate to him. He is wildly imaginative which makes him hard to follow and understand but again, I love that about him. He frustrates me but I love his imagination. I love how he sees things and takes himself on amazing adventures. I love how he gets excited and wears his excitement on his sleeve. Again, great recipe for getting beat up.

He is growing up and he is changing. Part of me wants to get past all this time where I have to worry about his ability to make friends and hold on to a relationship. But this will mean he will have grown up and away from me, which I don't like either. Then I realize that I will always worry and while that might be comforting on some levels on others it is exhausting.

What I should do is listen to my husband:

Not everyone will like Thomas but most will on some level. Not everyone will want to play with him but most kids I don't want him to play with anyway. He will grow. He will make friends. He will get hurt. I will anguish over it. I hope he never knows how much. I hope he goes on in his life as he does now. Taking it one day at a time. Being himself. Getting on with his life.

Worry is wasted energy. Worry is wasted power. Worry is wasted time. One day I will learn how to control my worry. Unfortunately, today is not that day. Today, I feel the worry like a shot to the heart.

The Child I Thought I Knew

Well...

I've discovered many things since having my kids. I've discovered I am not a patient person, which I sort of knew. Many around me knew alot sooner. I've discovered that I like to be silly. Many knew that too. I've discovered I'm more like my father than I had hoped to be. He is not someone that I have admired much as a person. Granted he's no longer here to defend himself but still. I've discovered that I need to be selfish and not get mad when my kids are. That I learned this evening.

I think sometimes we place undue expectation on our kids. I know I do. I expect too much of them sometimes and then get mad when I set them up to fail. I figure that I have set clear guidelines about behaviour. I have modeled good manners. I have shown how to be patient (believe it or not I can be when the need arises). I have displayed how to be tolerant, understanding and empathetic. I have educated my kids on how to be frugal, earth conscious and globally aware. Well as much as you can with 8 and 9 year olds.

What I've discovered about all of this is that it doesn't really matter right now. Kids are inherantly selfish. They take narcissism to a new level. And that makes me angry. Completely and unreasonably so. I spend my days working hard for other people. For my job, for my husband, for my Brownies, for my kid's school, for my friends, for everyone. I believe in giving the most you are capable of when you commit to something. I believe that it is important to help others and have a glad heart about it. What I cannot stand is selfishness. It drives me bendy. I've discovered that I need to be selfish or I will go bendy permanently. I've discovered that giving of myself all the time to others is heading me down the path to bendy. While I like to be flexible, bendy is not a state of being that I am willing to embrace.

I've discovered that I am beginning to resent not being selfish. I have given my children my body, my heart, my time and most of my mind. I have spent over 7 years fighting for my A child and then compensating with my B child. I have sacrificed jobs, furniture, trips, expensive clothes, and all manner of treats because I thought wanting those things was selfish. My children needed things more than I did. My children needed good memories in case I died young like my father. My children needed the solid foundation of love and support and happiness that was shaky in my youth. My children, my children, my children.

I've discovered that my kids have no idea what I have done for them. They don't instinctively know and appreciate what I have had to give up to have them. They tra la la in their own world and have no idea the nights I have spent panicking about paying bills, affording activities, being able to buy groceries. They don't intuitively pick up that Mom has given so much of herself that she may need a moment to recoup. All they think of is them. It is both true and necessary. I don't want them to grown up tiptoeing around me like I did my parents. Worrying, watching, watiting for the smack in the back of the head for some unknown infraction.

I've discovered that my A child is a gift. That he has taught me patience, tenacity, compassion, and endless love. Something I didn't think I had when he was born. Now I cry at the thought of him because of how much he has gone through and how much I desperately love him. I see that my A child is trying to find his way. He does not intentionally dawdle. He does not intentionally spill on the table. He does not intentionally try to drive me bendy. Well most days anyway.

I've discovered that my B child has strength and vulnerability. She is so sure that she is right all the time and she will fight to the end even when she knows she is wrong. She has taught me that girls are powerful, a force to be reckoned with. She has shown me what a mother and daughter can mean to each other when the parents aren't yelling all the time. She has shown me gifts about myself I didn't even know I had. She has shown me that it is ok to be vulnerable.

I've discovered myself in my kids. I see my oddities, my tastes, my strengths, my weaknesses. I see my gifts to them in the endless stories and cuddles and I love you always that they hear so much. I see myself as a child looking at the world just a little differently than most. I watch my daughter fight to the end and see myself having to show that I am right no matter what. I watch my son as he struggles to fit in and see myself on the fringe. I see them thinking outside themselves occasionally and know that is because they are growing up. I see the child I was and how fast I had to grow up.

I've discovered that I need to not mind so much that my kids are in a selfish phase. This means they are still kids. They have not be marked by tragedy and dysfunction. They have not had their hearts scarred so they feel guilty and unable to be selfish as adults. I don't mean selfish in a mean way but in the way that we should take care of ourselves as well. Say no once in a while without that pang of guilt. Maybe I am not such a bad parent after all.

I've also discovered something that is quite healing. I was a neat kid. I was unique and interesting. I was bright and talented and intelligent. I always wondered why I had friends - what did anyone see in me ? Now I see my kids and I know. I discover I was not the child I thought I knew, but better. Worthwhile knowing even.

Thank God for my selfish kids. May I go quietly in to the bendy night.