I’ve had some moments, mostly Friday afternoon and evening, where I felt embarrassed and disappointed about my parenting. I yell. I grump. I speak with judgement, disappointment, disdain, and impatience in my voice. I wish I didn’t. I’m not proud of that part of me. I resolve many times that I won’t do any of that anymore. Then I do. As I write these sentences I feel knee-high to a duck. I’m starting with this bit of things so that things start improving as soon as you read further! I’m also noticing that in the past I’ve been going away from something I didn’t want instead of towards what I do want. So, henceforth I will intend to be kind. That will be my mantra. I know I am kind already a lot of the time. I just want to grow that quality even more.
On Friday the girls walked to a friend’s house together without me. It was just around the corner and didn’t involve crossing streets, but it still felt like a very grown-up thing to do. As I watched from my house I could hear Amy telling Sarah they should practice about her allergies. Amy asked Sarah if Sarah wanted a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and Sarah said no. That moment felt so perfect I was almost teary.
From G.: “When I approach Sarah, specifically, I engage in very Sarah-specific and Sarah-plus-context-specific ways that individualize the experience. Additionally, I carry with me experiences and knowledge related to speech/language disorders, behavior support, Son-Rise/Sarah-Rise, etc. But if I back away further from “the trees” so that I’m in the atmosphere even beyond my professional knowledge and experience, and enter the human space, it strikes me that my overarching clinical (…and life, for that matter…) goal is that: nobody feels “less than.” I think that’s the rock-crystal core, everything boiled down to the smallest cohesive unit. And I believe Sarah is mostly swimming in a community pool of: nobody feels “less than.” It’s very wonderful.”
Indeed. So wonderful.
Sarah has been enjoying wearing my old capris pants with a pair of suspenders a volunteer got for her. Her love of suspenders in the first place was also because of a volunteer who wore his own suspenders often. There was one night this week when Sarah called out in her sleep, “oh no, my strap!” I went to help her and realized that she somehow thought she was still wearing the suspenders and that one had come unclipped. Once I told her sleepy self that she was still in pajamas and wasn’t wearing suspenders she quickly went back to sleep.
When Sarah called out her “oh no!” there was some part of my sleepy self that felt a heartache I haven’t felt in a while. It was the deep heartache that came with realizing something was “wrong” with my child; that was my moment of “oh no!” I don’t want to see her situation as something wrong. And yet, how can I not also be aware of how different my life would have been if she had been “normal?” Yet again, if that had been the case I wouldn’t have known this other world that has opened my heart more than I knew possible. I have no doubt that I am a better person because of Sarah being Sarah. I have no doubt that not only is she a blessing because of her beautiful spunky sparkly determined ornery loving self, but she is a blessing because of the deeply amazing people that are now in my life. I also have no doubt that Amy is the most perfect sister for Sarah that I could ever have hoped for. She inspires Sarah, she fights and plays with her. She also gives me all the traditional-looking love and connection and parenting moments that I thought I had lost because my connection with Sarah is less traditional, though no less loving and wonderful. Amy is a blessing because of Amy being Amy, her beautiful determined cat-loving playful artistic affectionate quick-learning self. What a good pair they are. Writing all of this out has already helped me heal my heart that tiny bit more.
We have been enjoying the latest Sandra Boynton CD called “Hog Wild.” There is a song about being a C-A-T and the the girls like to quietly chime in their own whispered chorus of “that’s Olivia.” It was Amy’s idea and Sarah quickly started doing it too.
Amy has been helping Sarah with her seatbelt, either buckling it for her or encouraging Sarah to try again and again to be a pro.
The girls played a very short whiffle t-ball game. They each had a turn as the catcher and as the batter. Amy was upset that the game was so short. I couldn’t believe it happened at all. I spent a few minutes talking to Amy about how Sarah sometimes just leaves activities that feel hard for her but that if we keep celebrating her attempts then she will stick with it longer and longer. That is how it was when we started playing board games with Sarah. At first it was laughably impossible and now it is almost so easy as to feel boring.
Amy was telling me that her leg hurt when she tried to sit criss-cross. Isn’t that a fortunate moment to have a mom who is a massage therapist? I worked on her for about 15 minutes and she was then able to sit comfortably. I love this stuff. Seriously. I cannot believe I have work that I love so very much.
If your pants are too big, whether real or metaphorical, I hope you have whatever suspenders you need. I hope you feel like a pro. I hope you are celebrated for all of your small attempts at whatever dream may seem laughably impossible.
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