Spinning Yellow

Eight and Five

It is Birthday Week here.  Jane turned 5 on Sunday and Scott turned 8 today.  I am officially a mom to two school-aged kids.  It is always a busy time with family gatherings and friend parties, cakes and treats to make for school.  I both dread and look forward to the celebrating, trying to be fair to both children while also not going overboard.  We are right in the thick of it with two events down and three to go. 

This year, I am struck by how grown up both kids seem.  Jane is so self possessed, a happy princess, announcing proudly that she is five now!  Ready for anything, exuding self-confidence.

I look at Scott and I realize what a turning point this is.  Eight, for me, was when I stopped being a little kid.  I have some memories from being five and six, and a few more at seven, but by eight, I really remember stuff.  Not just what happened, but how I felt.  It was the year that I realized there wasn't a Santa Claus, that I couldn't do everything and anything I wanted, that my mom and dad weren't always right.  I had my first crush, took my first trip without my parents, and got in trouble at school for not listening.  Big things.

Jane is coming into the wonderful time of Kindergarten and forever friends.  She still gets to be the little kid who can sing the days of the week, but also is part of the bigger kid world, getting on the bus, able to attend summer camps, and play with the older children.

Scott is entering the time when you learn that being a kid is often difficult.  You might still get to play a lot, but you have hard work to do at school, chores at home, and responsibilities.  You realize that many kids aren't all that nice.  That your mom can't fix everything.  That life is complex.

Eight and Five.

It is hard to believe.

March Madness Brings April Insanity

My college roommate had a sign hanging in our dorm room that read: April 15th is Sooner Than You Think.  She must have swiped it from a tax preparation office.  People would laugh at the sign, thinking she had some strange desire to be a tax account (she was a nursing major), not realizing that the joke was that her birthday was on April 15th.  A few years later I had a boyfriend with the same birthday. 

Even though everyone knows that April 15th is Tax Day, I always think about these friends and how I felt that the middle of April was so far into the year.  It is more than a quarter of the way through the year and yet everyone feels like it comes up so fast, they never have their taxes done, they are never ready.  How can this be?

And here I am.  Once again so far into the new year and I can't get my groove on.  I've written about it before, how March used to be the longest month and now it flies by as I panic, knowing that the busyness of April is coming way too quickly.

Last year at the end of March I posted this.  And really, in so many ways, I could just say it applies to this year.  But, on the other hand, a ton of stuff is different.  And here is a truth that it has somehow taken me until middle age-ish to realize: Life is both crazy, hectic, unpredictable, with staggering highs and abysmal lows and it is mundane, tedious, excruciatingly boring.  At the same time! 

I used to have this friend that was writing a book titled: Bringing Color Into Your Life.  He liked to tease me that I would never need his book because color seemed to find me.  As much as I wanted my life to be steady and predictable, I was always finding myself in these crazy, unexpected predicaments. He believed that most people felt their life was dull and needed to create excitement.  But maybe it is more about our tolerance of such things, than actually having a life with or without color.  I think I've always had a low threshold for what I was willing to experience so the things that happened to me seemed bigger than they would to someone else.

I will rehash last year's end of March post with this year's updates in italics.  And if you ever feel that your life has become too routine or boring, just try my time game and you will realize how many things change in a year.  It never fails to reveal just how unpredictable life can be while also showing the consistencies, year after year.

Ten Before 10 from March 2008

Ten separate posts I should write:

1.  This blog, Spinning Yellow, is now officially two years old.  I wrote my first post on March 25th, 2007.  Yes, it has changed my life. 

2.  I've watched Autism: The Musical twice with tears streaming down my face.  I feel completely attached to all the people in the movie, kids and parents.  I can't stop thinking about it.  Latest thing I can't stop thinking about are two babies from parents who write blogs, that have died.  It is heartbreakingly sad and I just don't know how people survive.  I am also awed by the outpouring of support from this bloggy community.

3.   I get e-mails from Runner's World with helpful links.  Today's was titled: Easter Candy = Crack.  I am so there.  In fact, I am right now going to throw the rest of it out.  Chocolate is my biggest weakness, hands down.  Also, there was a tid bit about people gaining weight while training for a marathon.  wtf?  How is this possible?  Well, they explain it, but I don't even want to know because that is just too depressing.  There is no way that running your ass off shouldn't correlate to literally running your ass off.  I have actually lost weight this year, nothing to do with training, though.  I think it is the thyroid medicine that I am now taking. 

4.  Speaking of which, I ran 10 miles 2 weeks ago.  And Matt says that if I did 10, I can do 13.  I wish I believed him. He's right, as I know, because I did run the race last year, but I won't be this year.  I hurt my ankle and will be bowing out, sadly.  This has really bummed me out and made me rethink running.  More on that soon.

5.  Scott is having an anxiety attack that started with his bus breaking down and is now spiraling into him not being able to sleep and following me around the house.  He is chewing his sleeve and hmmm- ing and jumping at every sound.  I am trying to be understanding without making too much of it.  Sure, you can wish me luck with that.  The current anxiety situation centers around being at school, that he will get sick, that it will feel like an eternity while he is there, that he will be upset about something.  We are participating in a study at the University of Pennsylvania on Anxiety and OCD.  Many more details on that soon.

6.  I am in charge of our family NCAA basketball pool, as always.  A fun tradition that Scott is way too caught up in. I won, again, which seems suspicious because I am in charge, but really, I can't cheat, I'm just lucky.

7.  I failed to attend Oprah's on-line class for her book group selection, A New Earth, for the 4th week in a row.  I love Oprah and totally dig the premise of this book, but cannot, for the life of me, understand how millions of people are actually reading it.  Have you tried to read this?  Either I'm not as smart as I thought I was or a lot of people are lying.  Well, I missed Oprah's classes again this year, but I am reading The Time Traveler's Wife for a new book group I am joining and am pretty excited about starting fresh with some different people.

8.  It is almost April.  Taxes and birthdays and yard work, oh my!

9.  This time two years ago, Jane broke her arm, I started this blog and I started running.  Scott finished up his listening program and cut back on his OT.  It seems like more than a two years has passed because so much has happened.  Last year, Matt was only a few months into a new job and now, he's just starting another job.  Would have never seen that one coming last year!

10.  I desperately want to go to BlogHer08 in San Francisco in July, but cannot figure out how to justify the cost. Ya'll know I went and had fun.  I bought a ticket to BlogHer09 in Chicago early, in order to get the discount price, and then the tickets sold out.  I am not sure if I will be able to go, but I think I can sell it if I am not going to attend.  I am kind of surprised that it sold out so fast given the economy.

10 pm - I made it on time.

'night.

Fire Drill Clairvoyant

Yesterday was one of those unseasonable warm days that we typically get once or twice during the winter. As Scott was getting ready for school and doing his usual complaining and stressing about the day ahead, I was thinking about the nice weather.

"At least you'll have outdoor recess today!" I said, cheerfully. Then I added, before really thinking it through, "Maybe you'll have a fire drill."

"Why?"

"Because it is warm and the school has to get in a certain number of fire drills for the year, so this is a good day to do it. When Grammy had the day care, this is the kind of day when she would have a fire drill. Well, if the fire alarm goes off, you'll know that it's most likely just a drill, and not a real fire or anything. Plus, you'll get to go outside and it will take up some of the time when you'd ordinarily be doing school work."

Scott mulled this over for a bit and then started in with his typical concerns. They wouldn't be allowed to play football at recess, school is boring, he'd have to sit next to the kid that bugs him, he didn't want to play on the blacktop where some kid threw up (in, like, December, I think), on and on.

"I don't want there to be a fire drill," he moaned. "I hate school. I don't feel well. My stomach hurts. I think I should stay home."

"Nope. Time to go catch the bus. You'll be fine."

This is a fairly typical morning for us, so I didn't think too much about it as I went on about my day.

Scott has been on edge lately. We can always tell when things are getting bad because we start yelling at him more, sending him to his room, and arguing about everything. He's been grumpy, or perhaps I should say, he's been grumpier than usual, which is pretty crabby to being with.

He's been sick with the coughing thing he gets every year and also a fever thing that kept him out a few days. And this school year is so dull. The work is easy and his teacher is lame. She's not bad, but she's far from good and he knows it. He feels like he is biding his time, waiting for summer. He's been talking about germs again and other things. The stuff he frets over, obsesses about.

While I was driving home from preschool with the girls in the car, I got a call from the school nurse telling me Scott was in her office pacing around saying his stomach hurt. He didn't have a fever and didn't feel like he was going to throw up, but he seemed out of sorts. I told her I thought he was anxious, concerned about a possible fire drill and maybe about recess and whether they'd be able to play football. I talked to him and he pleaded to go home, but I said, no, I had the girls, he had to stick it out, he'd be alright. We hung up.

As soon as I walked in the door at home, my cell phone rang again. It was the school nurse. What, so soon? Did he throw up? No, she said, she just wanted to know why he was worried about a fire drill. Was it the noise? Or something else, because, that's right, they were, in fact, going to have a fire drill! Nobody knew but her because the principal just told her.

"You have to warn him!" I demanded, then backed off. "Can you tell him? I mean, he's mostly just concerned about not knowing, the anticipation, and whether it is real or not." Then I remembered, "He used to have it in his IEP, in Kindergarten, to be warned, because he is anxious and the noise and the confusion, the unexpectedness, it scares him."

She told me she'd talk to the principal and I said I thought Scott now sees her as an ally and that she might need to put me on speed dial because he gets the worry bug a lot.

I immediately went to the computer and started Twittering. And, of course, the tweeps responded, assuring me that I had done the right thing and that the school would prepare him.

I felt, as I do so often, like I was walking the line. How much do I interfere? He needs to learn how to get by without special exceptions and yet, he really needs help sometimes. Am I doing too much or too little? Should I push for an IEP for the anxiety and the OCD? Or do I just keep plodding along, hoping he can mange, taking each situation as it comes?

School is so difficult for Scott. The bathrooms, the lunch, the kids who talk too much, or get in his personal space, the ever present germs, the teacher who might yell at him. All of this is overwhelming, and, yet, he is excelling. He just got his second marking period progress report and it was all S's and +'s. Not one area or subject that he isn't mastering. But all the other parts of school are a nightmare for him.

I made a few phone calls and was able to get my sister who offered to have her son, Scott's favorite cousin, come over for a bit after school as a special treat. As soon as Scott got home we went to pick up my nephew.

"So, did you have a fire drill? Did anyone tell you beforehand?" I asked Scott after he got off the bus.

"The nurse came in at lunch and told me. She said it was a secret and I couldn't tell the other kids, so when the alarm went off, I knew it was just a drill."

"Oh, that's good. How was the rest of your day?"

"You know, it's funny, after the nurse told me that, my stomach didn't hurt anymore."

"Hmmm. Do you think that maybe you weren't really sick and maybe it was just the worry bug?" I tried not to sound smug.

"Yep. I guess so. Well, and before I went to the nurse's office I was in the bathroom and that kid with the acid reflux came in and he does that thing where he kind of throws up in the sink and it grosses me out and he doesn't even wash his hands."

Yuck

"Yeah, I can see why that bothers you. Maybe you can use another bathroom?" I tried to think of other solutions. I mean, would you want to use the bathroom if you thought someone might come in and throw up in the sink?

God damn it is hard to be a kid sometimes.

But he's going to make it through.

And the next time I forsee a fire drill, I'm keeping my mouth shut.

I Guess You Never Know

This morning I unexpectedly had to go to Jane's preschool and help prepare for an upcoming event.  I had signed up to do this, but there was a mix up with the date and the director kept apologizing for her mistake.  I decided to just get it over with since all I really had to do was mix up some stuff and chat with a couple of other moms and the director (we weren't with the kids).

Within minutes of arriving, we got into a conversation about the Parenting Consultant that Matt and I had seen over three years ago, during the summer of 2005. Before I realized it, I was telling the director the whole sorted story of Scott's SPD diagnosis and his terrible year in pre-Kindergarten (at a different preschool).

Turns out her son, who is now 28, had developmental delays and learning disabilities, including severe auditory processing problems.  She wanted to know how we got through it, how he was doing now.  She had such kind words for his struggles and the difficult road we had traveled.

The preschool that Jane attends has a reputation for being a perfect place.  One where parents never complain and the director constantly touts how awesome all her teachers and programs are.  In order to secure a spot for your child, you have to put their name on the waiting list before the child is even born.  It is both wonderful and a bit over-the-top.  In the beginning I would sit in meetings and roll my eyes listening to the sappy drivel.

But Jane is as happy as can be.  She loves school, adores her teachers and is learning.  The school is superior to the one Scott attended, of this I am sure.  But I've often wondered if he would have fit in at Jane's school.  The kids all seem so well behaved; absent are the type of children with issues. 

The idea did cross my mind that the director had weeded those children out so as to preserve her Utopian environment.  And I always suspected that she would have judged me just as the director and teachers had at Scott's school.  As a mother who was looking for excuses for her child's poor behavior.  As a failure.

But today, as I fixed up bags of reindeer food, this director and I talked mom to mom.  About how hard it is to be a parent.  About what it was like to discover that your child has problems.  How alone and confused we both felt.  About some of the challenges she faced and some of the issues we are currently dealing with.

She said her son was her second child, the one that had to follow the perfect first born.  She knew there were issues when he was barely two and they had been through the wringer.  But he was, "the one that made me a good mom.  That taught me how to be patient, compassionate, a better person."  I nodded in agreement, understanding what she was saying, thinking of an e-mail I had sent a friend recently where I wrote:

Jane loves school and Scott, well, is Scott. He finds issues with everything.  But is doing well.  And he just continues to be such a unique, interesting kid.  My heart and my inspiration.  Jane is lovely.  Scott is a lot of work but in that "the hardest job you'll ever love" kind of way.

I was glad for the scheduling mix up and the opportunity to see this woman differently.  And to be reminded that I shouldn't be judging or jumping to conclusions, either.  That you just never know when the person who seems to be the least likely to understand turns out to be the complete opposite.

To Everything, Turn, Turn, There is a Season, Turn, Turn

Hey there!  So ... how was your summer?  Yeah?  That's good.  Oh, me?  Well, mine was really crazy.  It started out really great.  Then got kind of mixed up and sad and lost.  Then stress and anxiety flooded in.  And stayed awhile.  It has been long.  And yet, I am not ready for it to be over.

We've been busy, in a good way, going from one event to another.  Here's a quick review:

Our winter of sickness turned into a spring full of angst.  Once summer started and all the end-of-the-school-year nonsense (too many parties, special events, lack of routine, Scott even said at one point, "I don't want another pizza party, I just want a regular day!") was over, the stress level in our house went way down.  Plus I was in a zen-momma, just turned 40, mode of living in the moment and enjoying having my kids around. 

We had a pre-July 4th party with two of my friends from college and their families (which included "the three little trip-a-lets", as Jane calls them).  At the same time we settled into a nice routine of attending swim lessons in the morning, hanging out at the park, running errands, chilling out at home, reading Harry Potter and doing workbooks.  We girly-ed up some old furniture for Jane's room by painting it pink and purple.  We saw the fireworks with the cousins as usual, enjoying the fact that the kids can all play pretty independently now (I'll choose to ignore the part where Scott got scared of the fireworks because of the smoke now, instead of the noise, well, he still doesn't like the loudness, either).  I rushed to finish Nineteen Minutes and then hosted book group.

This wonderful start to summer then blended into me getting ready for and attending the BlogHer 2008 conference.  After returning, we got in a little bit of a funk with sad news and new anxieties cropping up. We scrambled around getting ready for vacation, went away, then had to recover from said vacation.  There was football practice and picking tomatoes and green beans from the garden.  Attempts at bike riding without training wheels.  Lots of lunches out.  TV watching, computer games, Wii playing.

I read a second book, Crossing To Safety, for my book group, cramming it in, finishing just in time for our meeting. 

There also were fights between the kids.  New issues with "trash can germs".  Complaints about being bored and simultaneously too busy.

I felt tired.  All. the. time.  Oh the headaches, also.  Grrr.

Usually I am more than eager for Fall, my favorite season, to arrive.  But this summer seemed to carry extra importance.  More than anytime before I know how precious these days are.  How fleeting.  I sense the change of seasons, not just literally, but figuratively, for me and my family. 

This time of caring for small children, of being dedicated primarily to them, is coming to an end.  There won't be any more babies.  I think I am the one who is having the most difficult time moving on.  Because it is me that needs to adjust the most.  From full-time, all consuming mommyhood, to what?  I don't know.  I feel lost when I thought I'd feel free, excited, revved-up for new possibilities.

Tomorrow my boy goes back to school.  Something he needs to do.  He wants nothing more than to stay home with me.  To be able to control his environment.  To not have to deal with any of it.

He is concerned about his teacher.  The bullies on the bus.  How long the day is.  Being away from home, missing me.  And the germs.  Really worried about the germs that lurk everywhere because, you know, no one else washes their hands and the bathrooms are beyond gross and don't even get him started on the cafeteria.  And the bus might break down or he could get poisoned.  And no one likes him, well some of the girls do, but they're yucky, except maybe the one girl that he kind of sort of likes, but no.  she's still yucky, too.  It is all just overwhelming.

But he must go.  It is good for him.

And for me.

The new school year always brings a lot of promise.  For fresh starts, new friends.  Opportunities to learn and grow.  I welcome the arrival of routine and cooler weather.  Of whatever lies ahead.

Even if I am wistful for the summer days and babies of the past.

*** Tomorrow I will be hosting a guest post from an anonymous Bitcher as part of Her Bad Mother's Betchfest.  Please check back to listen to some good old-fashioned ranting.  From someone other than me!  And to offer your comments and support.  Because everyone likes to be heard.