While my kids didn't quite understand what the Olympics were really about, we did have fun watching some of the events with them. Since most of it was on after they were in bed, we just recorded some events and watched bits of it here and there. That worked out fine since they would have never sat through all the stories and commentaries that proceed every big event. Herbie, in particular, was quite impressed with the trampoline event. If he were ever to be in the Olympics, that would definitely be his event! Highlights of swimming, diving, track & field events, and gymnastics were all hits. After it was over, Herbie said he wished that there was an event where people built domino courses and whoever had the one that took the longest to run would win. I thought that was an excellent idea! I've always loved watching dominoes fall, although I've never been good at setting them up. (Perhaps due to the fact that I drink too much coffee.) As Herbie was setting up his dominoes across the entire length of the kitchen, I reflected on the fact that just 6 months ago, when he started to be really interested in them, he couldn't set up more than a dozen without knocking them over. And due to my coffee addiction, I couldn't either... With some perseverance and a little time, he's a master of building domino courses. Hooray for his fine motor skills! And maybe someday we'll see him in the Olympics.

I think it is safe to say that parents of special-needs kids have gone through a huge range of emotions from sadness or anger about their child's diagnosis and the struggles that he faces, to joy over the simple things like saying "mama" or eating a new food. We question why our child, why this diagnosis, why don't others have to worry about these things. And then we feel feel intense pride and joy when we see our kid do something awesome or reflect on his heart of gold.

In a video lecture I watched recently, psychologist Ross Greene said that while parents of challenging kids may have more work cut out for them, they also get to go along on the ride with their children. While other parents are enjoying their child's accomplishments--some athletic achievement or winning a student council election or being a great artist, etc.--they are not as involved in the nitty-gritty day-to-day processes of learning any of these kinds of skills. With some encouragement and a good instructor, their kids just take off. In contrast, at our house, there is a lot of time spent on skills such as handwriting and chewing and learning how to introduce oneself to another child, among other things. So when the "sh" sound is properly pronounced for the first time or when one of my children writes his name legibly on a page, these are worthy of celebration. Parents of typical kids could celebrate these things, too, but they probably pass by unmarked because they are expected.

I have gotten to do quite a bit of celebrating with my kids. There are too many milestones to list--taking a vitamin, letting water get in his face in the shower, staying dry at night (every now and then it happens!), learning how to stick his tongue out, sitting still during church, hearing a passing dump truck honk its horn and not having a meltdown, coloring a picture mostly in the lines, alternating feet going up the stairs, playing with another kid at the playground, touching something wet. My husband and I jump around and cheer for these things, buy special treats and give big hugs. We appreciate the complexity of the neurological pathway that had to be formed to accomplish a feat, the anxiety that had to be overcome, the many months of therapy that led to the success. And we get to celebrate! It may sound trivial, but these are really special moments. Kids notice when parents invest time in helping them learn something and they enjoy being congratulated on a job well done.

Growing up, there were a lot of expectations for the kids in my family. Whether it was doing our homework, cleaning our rooms, doing chores, performing to the best of our abilities in extracurriculars, etc., we did it and moved on. Perhaps there was a pat on the back or recognition of something special. We definitely were not ignored or neglected.  But it feels so much different as I raise my own kids. I know them so well. They trust me to know when they need a hand, when it is not obvious to someone else that my son can't bend over to pick up a toy, or when one of them needs to hide his face in my shirt because of a particular smell. They know that I get what their limits are, that if they've had to focus for a long period on something and tolerated loud noises in a crowded place, then they just might need assistance if another challenge arises and their reserves have been used up. They know that I am there for them in the middle of the night. Or that I will help them calm down when someone bumps into them and no one gets why they are crying since they are not hurt. They don't often have to explain their reactions to me, and when they do, they know I am listening. I love the closeness that I have with my kids. I pray that I have the strength to continue to be a good listener and a shoulder to lean as the years pass and the challenges get more complicated.

If things came to them more easily, would I have put in as much effort to understand them? Their gifts, their fears, what makes them tick? It's hard to say, but it is easy to conceive that I might have taken many of their accomplishments for granted. So amidst all of the day-to-day work of raising these complicated kids, we get to celebrate pretty often. While my friends who are parents of typical kids don't get it when I excitedly proclaim that my youngest son took a bite of chocolate pudding, there are others who will jump up and cheer--friends, teachers, therapists, and our church family. And that is another huge blessing in itself, having those special people who can celebrate with us.

I have days where I wonder what I would change about my kids if I could change something. Would I get rid of allergies? Take away speech problems? Anxiety? Motor-planning problems? If I could pick one thing, which would I take away, what is the hardest thing? It's a pointless debate I have in my head, and I've learned to stop before I spend more than 30 seconds thinking about it. I can't choose the challenges my kids have to deal with any more than someone else gets to choose whether they get cancer or lose their job. If I could pick, I wouldn't allow any of these hardships. But the reality in this fallen world is that I don't get to pick. In eternity, the challenges will all be resolved. Until then, I'm on this ride with my kids. They are great travel companions and I am going to enjoy the journey with them.

 

It's that time of year when all the neighbor kids are going to summer camp, whether it is overnight or day camp or just the daily activities through our community ed program. I'm pretty sure my kids would not do well at any of those places, and they don't want to go anyway, so that's OK. I have looked at local options for day camps for kids with autism. But the high cost combined with the fact that my kids are pretty nervous about new places if I don't stay with them, made me rule those out. So we are left with VBS (vacation Bible school) at our church, and ESY (extended school year) through our district.

Our church recently held its VBS program, and my kids loved it. It was a small group of kids, in a familiar environment with lots of love. The junior high and high school kids did a great job helping out with the little ones, ALL of the snacks were allergen free, and when they made t-shirts, they even had a special spandex one for Herbie to decorate instead of the regular t-shirts. Wow! There were certainly some rocky moments during transitions and new activities, but we left every session in a great mood and looking forward to the next. What a blessing! The theme was "Shine God's Light" and I have to say that the teachers and older kids helping really did just that for my kids. Hopefully that lesson transferred to them, inspiring them to shine God's light in their own way.

Last week was the start of ESY. Both of my kids were a bit apprehensive about what it would be like. The Owl's ESY is at the same preschool facility where he went last year, with mostly the same group of special ed instructors. The big change was that he would be taking the bus. He has been asking to take the bus all year, but because of his allergies, I preferred to drive him. After talking with the bus company extensively, I felt like we could give it a try. So the first day came, and he suddenly realized he was actually going to take the bus, and he changed his mind. After all the phone calls and arrangements I had made for busing, I felt like we should at least try it once, so I coaxed him into getting on the bus. As soon as he was buckled in, he was grinning about his new adventure, and it went swimmingly! He kept his allergy alert bracelet on, sat in sight of the driver, and the driver had easy access to his medicine. After he came home, all he could talk about was the bus. Apparently he had fun at school, too, and the teacher called me to go over a few things, but the highlight was definitely the bus. Now he is excited for every bus ride, I wonder if I will have to let him ride it in the fall, too.

Herbie was a little nervous, but not hysterical like last year. He remembered that it was fun, but it had been a year, so if it were up to him, he would just stay home. It was a little different from last year, meeting at the high school first to have breakfast then walking (across an athletic field) to the nearby primary school for the rest of the morning (not his regular school, but the one in the district with air conditioning). He stayed 4 hours instead of 2 like last year. Apparently he loves it, because he got off the bus grinning and leaping across the yard to tell me how fun it was.

I know how hard it is to go somewhere that you don't know what exactly is going to happen. I have trouble with that myself. But these kids are so little, and they are getting on their buses and going off to the (sort-of) unknown, then coming home with huge smiles. I know it is hard for them to go off by themselves and work on difficult things (speech, social skills, behaviors--tough stuff for them), but they go knowing that the staff is going to take good care of them. Everyone from the bus drivers to the paras to the teachers makes them feel loved, so they can bravely go to school and come home super excited about going back. Hooray for the awesome special ed staff in our district! Supported by people who truly value and care for them (and have a lot of fantastic training!), my kids were able to overcome their fears and make huge strides.

We had a lovely day on Sunday with the exception of some rain that sort of ruined the outdoor portion of our Father's Day plans. Although, playing at home when I am not solely in charge of the kids is just fine with me.

It started out a little hectic, as it always seems to be so hard to get out the door at a specific time for anything, including church. And when we slipped in the back, our usual row was taken. Fortunately Herbie was in a good mood and fine with being in the very last row. That turned out to be a good thing, because the next thing you know, he asked for a snack and as I tried to open a little package of animal crackers, it absolutely exploded everywhere. I guess it was just comic relief for the folks in front of us.

Once we were actually settled down, he did great. He even went up front for the children's message and sat in one place and didn't roll around or start any antics requiring me to go sit with him. I was so proud and gave him a huge hug as he sat down. During the fellowship hour, an older gentleman came up to me and said how he enjoyed seeing Herbie growing up, that he was so impressed how well he paid attention during the children's message. It blessed my heart to know another person was proud of that accomplishment, too, and sought me out to tell me. And so I am praying that I, too, will notice things about other people and tell them something that can encourage them. We all need to hear that sort of thing!

One of Herbie's favorite conversation topics is Heaven. 
 
What will it be like? When can we go there? How soft are the beds? Will there be infinite levels in Angry Birds? And will I get three stars on my first try every time?

My mom is currently in town visiting, and he is finally connecting that she is my mom. He wanted to know where her parents were, and she answered that they were in Heaven. Without missing a beat, he asked if she would introduce them to him when he got there. It was so sweet.

He also likes to talk about how our bodies and minds will be made perfect. He is looking forward to never getting into trouble! He is excited that his brother will speak clearly and run fast. He is fascinated that nothing will get dirty and happily told me I would not have to vacuum anymore. He also likes to list the various foods his brother will be able to eat. It's not in a mean sort of way, like he's pointing out the restrictions he lives with now, but he is truly excited to see his brother take his first bite of goldfish crackers or hummus with tahini or store-bought Oreo cookies.

I think about his child-like faith. That it is a sure thing that we will all be in Heaven and that there will be an amazing feast. And truly, it is a sure thing. He often brings me back to reality. The reality that Heaven is real and our hope is not in vain. That our Heavenly Father is excited to see the Wise Old Owl eat all of those foods, too. And to give me rest from vacuuming!

We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.
Hebrews 6:19