Today is our girl's 8th birthday. She was my butterball turkey born at 9lbs 2oz. I still remember having to only push twice for her to come out compared to the two hours I spent pushing out her older brother seventeen months before.
Most babies come out crying and screaming but not our little girl. She came out without a peep like she was sleeping. She was a perfect, happy baby. As long as I nursed her every 2 hours she'd happily sit in her bouncer or cradle just watching her brother play. My sister and brother-in-law nicknamed her "no maintenance baby." And it was true. She was every mom's dream who had an active seventeen month old.
She was my chubby baby and toddler with fat rolls everywhere. Now she's my petite, thin, eight year old girl. Who would have guessed? She's bright, compassionate, fiercely loyal, athletic, loving, with a keen sense of smell and hearing. She is fearfully and wonderfully made.
She was God's perfect gift in a difficult time. He knew I needed her. (You can read that story under She Saved Me, parts 1, 2, and 3)
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Choosing to Homeschool
After her official diagnosis, we agreed to have her mainstreamed in a kindergarten class at our local public elementary school. I still did not feel comfortable teaching her at home. It was hard. She hated going to school. The transition into a new school, a new classroom, and a new teacher was difficult. The special education preschool class was held in a different school on the other side of town. She had an amazing teacher, aides, special education teacher, and therapists. And principal. There were days she'd refuse to walk into the building and her principal would scoop her up and carry her into her classroom. The adjustment process took a good three months. Everyone loved our girl and worked with her.
After the Christmas break, I kept being told, "she's wonderful in class but learns best one-on-one." Thankfully, she had an aide who could help with daily tasks during the day. When she'd arrive home after school, she needed down time in her room. I barely saw her until dinner. After dinner, she had to complete work which she didn't finish in school. Have I mentioned she hates math worksheets? Now our evenings involved crying and frustration. She'd go to bed and the sane thing happened the following day. She was happy at school but our home life was suffering and only getting worse by the day.
We made the plunge that summer. We notified the school that we intended to homeschool her the coming school year. We knew it would be a day by day decision. I wasn't willing to commit to much more.
And we haven't looked back. The thought does cross my mind on our really bad days but our relationship and her relationship with her dad and brothers is much better. And I can't sacrifice that. We do have rough mornings so days but it's only a few hours and then we are done. We can enjoy each other the rest of the day. She no longer needs two hours after school to unwind in her room from all the stimulation. There is no more fighting in the evenings (well, about school work anyway).
I don't regret sending her to school those two years but I sure am glad to have an even better relationship with her now. Homeschooling isn't for every child or every family but we've been blessed beyond measure.
After the Christmas break, I kept being told, "she's wonderful in class but learns best one-on-one." Thankfully, she had an aide who could help with daily tasks during the day. When she'd arrive home after school, she needed down time in her room. I barely saw her until dinner. After dinner, she had to complete work which she didn't finish in school. Have I mentioned she hates math worksheets? Now our evenings involved crying and frustration. She'd go to bed and the sane thing happened the following day. She was happy at school but our home life was suffering and only getting worse by the day.
We made the plunge that summer. We notified the school that we intended to homeschool her the coming school year. We knew it would be a day by day decision. I wasn't willing to commit to much more.
And we haven't looked back. The thought does cross my mind on our really bad days but our relationship and her relationship with her dad and brothers is much better. And I can't sacrifice that. We do have rough mornings so days but it's only a few hours and then we are done. We can enjoy each other the rest of the day. She no longer needs two hours after school to unwind in her room from all the stimulation. There is no more fighting in the evenings (well, about school work anyway).
I don't regret sending her to school those two years but I sure am glad to have an even better relationship with her now. Homeschooling isn't for every child or every family but we've been blessed beyond measure.
Saturday, April 19, 2014
Her Mooshka
A big part of therapy for children with any special needs is coping skills. Thankfully, our girl has had great coping skills for her anxiety. However, with a turn of a hat (or a forgotten doll in this case) things can go south quickly.
She has always had anxiety with crowds in confined spaces. For example, it took her two years to feel comfortable enough to enter the main church. She'd happily sit in the lobby (our Catholic Church in M'ville did not have a cry room) and pay attention or if I held her the entire time she go in willingly. But seeing that she has younger brothers, we were not always able to hold her all the time. Sometimes I had the baby and dad had the toddler or vice versa.
Around the age of six (she's almost 8), she finally felt comfortable walking in, sitting down, and staying quiet for the entire length of the mass. She only requested one thing - a doll or teddy bear. Seems simple enough, right? Well, dolls and teddy bears can be forgotten. Like this year on Good Friday.
We pulled into our parking space at church around 2:40pm for the 3pm service. She realized she had forgotten her Mooshka doll, Princess Paula. She begged to go back home and get her but we had no time. I knew it would be a disaster. Just the night before, she sat for 1.5 hours during the Holy Thursday Mass. Well behaved and attentive the whole time with Princess Paula by her side.
My husband had to work but my parents sat with the older boys while I took the little boys in the cry room (our new church has a cry room and my 18 month old is currently in a phase of throwing hymnals). Louise came with me and I was hoping it would help. She refused to sit next to me. A meltdown was on the horizon. Thankfully two of the other families in the cry room we know through our homeschool group. I was a tad bit less embarrassed. She alternated between curling up in the fetal position and yelling at me about going home or at the baby beside her to leave her alone (all he was doing was looking at her). We avoided a full blown meltdown but I knew it wasn't over yet.
She wanted to kiss the wounds of Jesus during the veneration. She came with me and stood in line. But before I knew it, she ran out of the main church. I knew where she had gone - back to her seat to cry. She wanted to participate. She wanted to be included. She wanted to get past her anxiety. But she couldn't. We try to never push, just to encourage. But sometimes it is too much.
We got home and the tears and shaking and screaming and hitting began. All because Princess Paula was left behind. Things are usually better within an hour or so, but my mommy guilt is still lingering. Should I have just left? But what about my other children? Why, oh why, didn't I remember her doll?
It had almost been an entire year since her last church meltdown. Last time we forgot her pink teddy bear.
She has always had anxiety with crowds in confined spaces. For example, it took her two years to feel comfortable enough to enter the main church. She'd happily sit in the lobby (our Catholic Church in M'ville did not have a cry room) and pay attention or if I held her the entire time she go in willingly. But seeing that she has younger brothers, we were not always able to hold her all the time. Sometimes I had the baby and dad had the toddler or vice versa.
Around the age of six (she's almost 8), she finally felt comfortable walking in, sitting down, and staying quiet for the entire length of the mass. She only requested one thing - a doll or teddy bear. Seems simple enough, right? Well, dolls and teddy bears can be forgotten. Like this year on Good Friday.
We pulled into our parking space at church around 2:40pm for the 3pm service. She realized she had forgotten her Mooshka doll, Princess Paula. She begged to go back home and get her but we had no time. I knew it would be a disaster. Just the night before, she sat for 1.5 hours during the Holy Thursday Mass. Well behaved and attentive the whole time with Princess Paula by her side.
My husband had to work but my parents sat with the older boys while I took the little boys in the cry room (our new church has a cry room and my 18 month old is currently in a phase of throwing hymnals). Louise came with me and I was hoping it would help. She refused to sit next to me. A meltdown was on the horizon. Thankfully two of the other families in the cry room we know through our homeschool group. I was a tad bit less embarrassed. She alternated between curling up in the fetal position and yelling at me about going home or at the baby beside her to leave her alone (all he was doing was looking at her). We avoided a full blown meltdown but I knew it wasn't over yet.
She wanted to kiss the wounds of Jesus during the veneration. She came with me and stood in line. But before I knew it, she ran out of the main church. I knew where she had gone - back to her seat to cry. She wanted to participate. She wanted to be included. She wanted to get past her anxiety. But she couldn't. We try to never push, just to encourage. But sometimes it is too much.
We got home and the tears and shaking and screaming and hitting began. All because Princess Paula was left behind. Things are usually better within an hour or so, but my mommy guilt is still lingering. Should I have just left? But what about my other children? Why, oh why, didn't I remember her doll?
It had almost been an entire year since her last church meltdown. Last time we forgot her pink teddy bear.
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