Memoria Arts~ Life in the Making

This is what I know...

It was one of those days. 

You know the type. 

It started at six am this morning and has been going all day long, and it doesn't look like it's gonna end early, either.

Tough, tough, day.

There is grace, though.

I had this moment of awareness, of clarity:

I was teaching the boys. Ben was working through his lesson mostly on his own, and Isaiah and I were plopped down in the middle of the living room working on his math. He has just learned simple addition within the last few lessons, and he was literally adding them together faster than I could lay down the blocks on the workbook page. Here he is, belly on the floor, feet waving in the air, blithely working through the problems. And I think about this time last year, and how worried I was that he had learning delays. He couldn't even understand sequencing and pattern recognition, one of the basic building blocks of math. Counting from one to ten made no sense to him- they were just random sounds and didn't go in order. This is the self same kid that is rattling off answers now! 

Some times we get so stuck in the here+now that we forget just how far we've come.

It doesn't make this day any less tough, or the responsibilities any less pressing, but I can honestly say that today was a good day.

I ordered in Chinese.

We read every single book out of the library basket at some point today.

Blankets were in abundance for cuddling.

I turned Adele on in Pandora, and we danced, twirled, and jammed the "bewitching hour" away. 

Was it a "perfect" day? Will I be nominated to Mother of the Year by my kids?

No, and I seriously doubt it.

But this is what I know: we've come a long way, and we'll go a ways still. It's the small moments that no one else would notice, the boy on his belly, legs waving over his head, adding. Don't let it pass you by in the small disappointments of life that seem so pressing. They are small beans to the the precious gold of the not-so-everyday accomplishment we take for granted. 

A peek around the corner...

I am still smiling at my post yesterday...I hope I didn't sound grumpy. I truly am getting used to this little germ warfare dance with these crazy upper respiratory bugs that seem to come our way. It does get slightly scary at times, I'll admit, but I am glad that it is something I am very familiar with and is dealt with easily enough. I do find it fascinating that we don't seem to catch any of the other bugs (knock on wood)- we've only caught the flu once in the last seven years. My kids don't get the stomach bugs hardly at all, and up until these crazy double ear infections with David, none of my kids had any ear problems either. I'd rather deal with the familiar wheeze and snotty nose than parcel out bowls and trash cans any day. 

When I get "stuck" during these spells (and I say 'stuck' with an impish grin on my face), rocking and reading and kissing the little invalid (or two or three), there's not a whole lot I can do. Pray, read, and nap a little (ha! I wouldn't recommend that with under threes around), and (my personal favorite) watch the other children play. Sometimes I get stationed in such a way that I can see into the children's rooms, but the children aren't aware that I am close by and play and talk naturally. This can set me to giggling some times- the fantastic, outlandish, imaginative stories the boys concoct can get knee-slapping funny. (Which isn't good while holding a sleeping child, but I digress.) 

If I watch close enough, I get to catch a glimpse of my children's personalities and their future selves. In this Advent season, I think of Mary and how "she treasured all these things in her heart" as she watched Jesus grow in wisdom and stature. These little peeks truly seem a gift to me, specially picked out by their heavenly Daddy. And heaven knows, it's these little peeks that carry me through the truly rough days. 

David is truly becoming a little boy, and all the sweet baby chump is disappearing around his face: alas, my favorite part of wee little ones. Such an interesting time , watching them make the transition into childhood from babyhood: they don't need you so much anymore, although they are quick to come running with boo boos to be kissed still; they learn so much in such short spans of time that they (and you) get frustrated when their bodies can't keep up. And oh, how they bargain to get rid of the nap time they still desperately need! It is always both exciting and yet bittersweet. They will not pass this way again in their lifetimes. David's language acquisition is exponentially growing on a daily basis- it never ceases to amaze me what new word will spill forth that I can understand. I am quite partial to his lisped "I love you", and it is so nice to be able to understand what he wants instead of the fuss translation! I've glimpsed such a compassionate nature in him recently. He is the first to arrive "on scene" when a sibling is hurt, offering a gentle touch on shoulder or rubbing the baby's head. He's quite the companion- he doesn't push himself to the front, needing the attention. He'll gladly go along with whatever his siblings have cooked up for play. I've often seen him and Lorelei sitting side by side in the rocking chair, just smiling at each other. I feel that way about him too...he's my little buddy that often comes and sits with me while I am nursing or doing something, and we just smile away at each other! He definitely has a gift for "be"-ing with people. I've learned a lot from a little two year old guy.

Lorelei. My little song. (Lorelei is German, and transliterates as "fairy song".) She hums and sings most of the day long, usually about whatever she is doing at the moment, with made up melodies and harmonies. She is all princess. Where my boys are rough and tumble, she is dainty; where they are loud and boisterous, she is quiet and considerate. She has this thing that always tickles me to death when she does it- if she says something you didn't quite hear, and you ask her to repeat it, or get down on your knees to be closer (as I usually do), she whispers- as if that would make her easier to hear! She has an ability to bring out the best in her siblings and others- it's as if one stands a bit taller, walks a bit straighter, speaks a bit better around her, because they want to give her their best. She truly makes others shine, somehow, in her little magical way. She is also, very much, a little mama. She keeps those jumpy boys in line, and don't you know it! I think in some ways the boys are as much afraid of getting in trouble with her as they are with me...although she probably offers a lot more kisses and lovies to the offending party than I do. I have been finding her 'sugar and spice' approach works alot better than my yelling!

And Isaiah! The zest and sparkle and oomph to our days. For all his SPD struggles (which are more and more becoming speed bumps to coast over versus mountains to climb) which you might think at first glance would cause difficulty to engaging in relationship with others, Isaiah truly has the gift of encouragement. He has this little way of smiling that all but twinkles at you with his eyes and you immediately feel a bit better. He is so good at getting us to look on the bright side of things, and his delight in life is infectious. He is a hoot! Watching them play, you'll hear him say something like "Ben, you can do it! You can make a really tall tower! What a good job, David!" He isn't very skilled when it comes to hand-eye coordination, so watching Ben build a Lego tower is something that really makes him happy- especially if Ben lets him knock it down afterwards! I find a lesson in this- I would be/have been bitter about my limitations in the past. It's like Isaiah doesn't even recognize that he has a difficulty, and he truly rejoices in the accomplishments of others. 

Ben. Ben-the-man. ( A lisped Isaiah pronunciation of Benjamin that stuck like glue!) A mechanical, linear mind that is always going, always making, and always asking, that one. Questions, morning, noon, and night! He is always thinking, thinking, thinking. I swear you could see wheels turn and smoke pour out the gears some days. He has the gift of leadership, definitely. It's his crazy schemes that his siblings get roped into. He is the go-to tent maker, block-builder, game-player. The kids would do anything for him! In conjunction with that, he has the ability to see problems and fix them. That is a rare gift- to be able to see the problem is half the battle! Most people have the ability to fix, but not necessarily the ability to realize what the issue is to begin with. I am fascinated by the boy-man he is becoming. I wonder what he'll pick for an occupation? He reminds me so much of my Uncle David, who is a chemist. I definitely think he'll be in something like that- he has such an analytical mind. An architect, a mathematician, who knows? 

Cuddly little Josiah hasn't shown much of a personality yet, but I think he could compete with David on the smiling and Isaiah on the twinkling. We live to make that wee one giggle and smile! And he is so interested in all that they are doing. He hates being faced in such a way that he can't see what the kids or I are up to: I always have to turn the swing or bouncy so that he can see, and the tears evaporate into thin air. 

I am so thankful for the gift of their company, short time though it may be; I can't wait to see what God has planned for their lives. 

If you let grandma come for a visit...

(With apologies to Laura Joffe Numeroff)

IF you let grandma come for a visit,

she'll want to read to you.

And if you let her read to you,

she'll want to sing to you.

And if you let her sing to you,

she'll get very goofy.

And if she gets goofy,

she'll want to play with you.

And if you let her play with you,

she might bless you with some outside toys.

And if she blesses you with some outside toys,

she'll decide you need a sandbox.

And if she decides you need a sandbox,

she'll decide to build one.

And if she decides to build one,

she'll take you to your favorite place, the hardware store.

And if she takes you to the hardware store,

She'll get sand and wood and all manner of things.

And if she gets sand and wood and all manner of things,

then she'll ask daddy to build it.

And if daddy builds it,

she'll want you to play in it.

And if she wants you to play,

she'll take lots of pictures.

And if she takes lots of pictures,

she'll want to scrapbook them.

And if she scrapbooks them,

she'll have to come for another visit...

Grandma Camp 09

It was a huge success. My brother graduated on the 30th, so we had three generations vacationing together for much of the time- my Grandma and Poppa (my father's parents), and my Oma (my mother's mother). What my mom arranged was an excellent example of a "staycation"...everything she found for the kids was either free or nearly free and less than an hour's drive from her house. It's inspired me to look at my hometown in a different way for the summer too.

 In no particular order, here are some of the many things they did:

- pool party (daily) at the next door neighbor's
- a trip to the beach (Virginia Beach, VA)
- the Nauticus museum (home of the USS Wisconsin, Norfolk, VA)
- the Parksley Train Museum (on the Eastern Shore of VA)
- the Parksley Fire Department (Eastern Shore, VA)
- the Asseateague Light House (Eastern Shore, VA)
- the Chicnoteague Marsh (Eastern Shore, VA~ Remember the book Misty of Chicnoteague? They saw the ponies!)
- the Virginia Air and Space Museum (Newport News, VA)
- daily trips to the park

Rolling, rolling, rolling...

The kids and I hit the road this morning, for what will be a sort of back and forth month of traveling as family members and friends graduate and get married. It's that season! It's been a while since we've done road trips. It went pretty well. Four kids+ 1 mommy. Except for the hairy hour around what would normally be nap time, we had a blast.

But.

If I have to sing "John Jacob Jingleheimer Smith" one more time...

I might lose it.

Must.find.new.car.songs.

Stat.

We're here at the sunny beach, healthy and hearty, if a little tone deaf...

No card today...

Because I've been busy doing this:

And this:

And watching this: (The Tool Time Band)

And taking drives like these.

If the heavens declare, let's get out there!

(Here's hoping that spring decides to stick this time, because we are having way too much fun for it to get cold again! Top to bottom: Davy Crockett Park and the Nolichucky River, taking a delicious nap outside, the kids playing and singing Down in the River to Pray on the garden tools, and a our favorite short cut to Chuckey, in pictures, on James' blog.)

The ever elusive photograph...

There is only one time of year that I try to get all four of the children to sit down together and it begins with a carefully laid battle plan that coincides with fresh naps and full tummies. Even at that, it always takes a few photographs. Like, 168. That was the final total, shot over a period of about five minutes. Thank God for Canons and their quick shutter speed- I actually got more than one good photograph this year and had a few to choose from!

Learning and Growing...

A prayer for my children:

And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and depth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ—to the glory and praise of God.
-Phillipians 1:9-11

Ben is about to lose another tooth; it is the second one this month. School is going well- we've finally found a rhythm and routine for each day that is flexible yet structured enough. We had a hilarious time this morning with playdoh, the "s" sound, and snakes. Lorelei often spends time at the table with us while we work, and I am amazed at how much she is picking up. Each week her speech is developing exponentially, getting so clear and girl like and not all baby babble. She's finally got enough hair on top for a "knot-knot", or as she is saying "pitty nah-nah mah mommy" (pretty knot knot like mommy). Although, mine, I am afraid to inform, does not stick straight up like hers does, Bam Bam style. I asked my grandmother to teach me how to knit while I was in Colorado, and I am beginning my first project- although, I've gotten no farther than casting on. I can't seem to get the first row to start right at all. I get a few stitches in, and then half of it falls off, and ends up looking like a jumbled mess. Even David is getting in on all the learning action these days, as you can see below.

On Speed...

I am officially registering a complaint, Mr. David. Oh yes I am. I would like to know, in no uncertain terms, why you have failed to "stop growing so fast!" as I have repeatedly instructed you? I mean it. You had better stop. This just can't be happening. Oh no it can't. You are not six months old, no sirree. Lorelei is not nearly two. Isaiah is not four, and Ben is not five. No. No. No! It's all a figment of my imagination. You are all my little wee babies still. I refuse to accept reality. But I know it's no use. You, my little wigglebug, are flipping side to side, tummy to front, and doing crazy break dance circles around the playroom. And in 9 to 12 month old onesies, and busting through your pants because you are so very tall, just like your brothers and sister (and uncles and aunties and great uncles and aunties and, well, just accept it, y0u were born into a family o' giants).  I used to tease my daddy, Mr. David, because he could never quite get my age right- he'd always say I was two or three years younger than I actually was, and he was being entirely serious. It became a running joke- "How old am I, Dad?" "What year was I born?" But now, here I am, and although it's still funny, I totally understand it. I simply can't believe you are half a year old. It is far too fast for me! Just sayin'. You can slow down anytime. Got a whole life ahead of ya. But in case you decide to keep on growing, and I have a feeling you will, I love you forever, I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my baby you'll be.

Oh, boy.

Oh, Isaiah. Forever going a million miles a minute, glasses half off, skewed to the right or left from the last tumble he took; a blur of activity. I must touch, and sing and comment on everything I do- this is Isaiah's modus operandi. But yet, a darkness blurs his sunny disposition. A terror, a scream, when a dog is sighted, a suggestion to swing is made, loud colors or noises surround.  He screams in outright terror, physical fear shakes him. He begs to leave, to go the bathroom (his way of saying it is all too much for him), to hide.  What is this that troubles my dear one?

He is wholly unlike my other children in this regard- every child has their good days and bad days, likes and dislikes. But Isaiah? His reach bright florescence: if he likes something, he really likes it. If he doesn't like it, he really doesn't like it. 

The momma heart questions, watches, observes. Nearly a year and a half go by, with no real change in his reactions, and the usual issues are ruled out: food allergies, ear infections, colds, lack of sleep...the laundry list of childhood ailments that every momma works through when a child is struggling. The doctors watch too, and finally, referrals to specialists. All is not right here.

And so, a question answered. Sensory Processing Disorder. An answer, and yet a whole host of new questions beckon. Why Isaiah? Why SPD? How can I help him? Can we make this better?

The short, lay answer: Isaiah sees, hears, feels just as you or I do. But the way his body processes it is abnormal, meaning that certain sensory things can send cause his brain to go haywire. Therapy is required to help establish the pathways in his brain that were missing, and causing the 'train to go  off the tracks' so to speak. His is mostly vision related; his hearing and speech are normal, but his vision is not. The way one doctor explained it to me, his SPD is due to the fact that his eyes don't "talk" as fast to the brain as his ears and other sensory centers do, causing physical discomfort (dizziness and clumsiness are common in kids like Isaiah). His seeming "over reaction" to certain sensory things is actually his and his body's attempt to 'make sense' of what is going on. He quickly tires in high sensory environments because his body and brain have to work very hard to make sense of things. He regards swinging with abject fear ( and wouldn't you?) because it totally messes with all of his sensory centers. He has absolutely no idea where he is when he is swinging because his eyes, brain, and ears aren't talking to one another in a way he can understand.

In the end, this means that the normal four year old issues are exacerbated. A normal four year old has a lot of things going on emotionally, mentally, and physically and Isaiah is no different. But some things are off: picking up toys, for example. This used to be a huge battleground for Isaiah and I- I'd ask him to pick up the blue car and put it in the bucket, and he'd just gape at me. I'd get angry, thinking he was being defiant. But now that a lot of answers have come, I now understand that a lot of the time, Isaiah has a hard time actually seeing the toy. (His eyes do not "team" together, meaning that objects often 'jump' around on him- it's also why he tends to walk into door frames.) If he can't see the toy, how can he pick it up? I've been learning to connect, direct, and touch with him. First, I need to get on Isaiah 's eye level, and get his attention. "Pick up the blue car."  Second, I need to ask him what I said, and he repeats back to me. "You want me to pick up the blue car." Third, I take Isaiah's hand and rest it on the car. We do this four maybe five times with a few different toys, and then he can usually pick up the rest of his playthings on his own. Talk about a eureka moment.

I feel relieved, yet frightened. Relieved that we have an answer, but worried about what it all means, and the ever present momma questions: Am I doing enough? Will he be okay?

But you know what? All I can do is be with Isaiah in the right here and now. Tomorrow will take care of itself.