Every day this week, I have sat down to write this same post, and have come up with nothing. It seems my thoughts are intact, until I sit down in front of the computer, and am faced with the white screen staring back at me. Which is where I wait, somehow, anticipating the thoughts to magically appear. But that obviously hasn’t happened. I get distracted, sidetracked, or hauled off to bigger and brighter.
What I wanted to talk about was Josh, and his diagnosis. What I wanted to say was that he is more than what he has been diagnosed with, but what I got was an empty mind, with no thoughts whatsoever until I left the computer.
When I did have said thoughts intact, I began feeling guilty, over the fact that so much emphasis has been placed on Josh lately. Every post has some form of Josh strewn around in it. Some rant, question, or frustration that has come out of trying to understand this kid. In a sense, I wondered if I was somehow pushing the older two out. Not only here, in writing, but in life as well. All those thoughts began coming back, and I heard numerous people telling me over and over again that accepting responsibility of Josh would only compromise what little hope the older two had at a successful future. Am I somehow not offering them the best, by assuming responsibility for Josh as well?
Its not like just recently, since getting a diagnosis on Josh, have people started questioning. There has always been something. Someone. Somehow. Some problem, that has kept people from laying off my case about the well being of the kids.
This week, I was thinking about Josh, in the context of somehow “Ruining” Madison & Dylans future. I watched him differently, as if somehow in the blink of an eye, he would have hold of their futures, and have them ripped to shreds. Was it possible? I looked at him through a different perspective, the outsiders perspective. Trying to see what they saw, if anything, in him. What harm did they see? Was it something I didn’t? I looked at him as more than my nephew, more than a little boy who I love the same as the rest of them, I looked at him as a possible threat. The way, it appears everyone else sees him as.
The thing is, Josh is more than “Autistic” he has more than “Autism.” He has potential, a personality, an identity. He has a future, he has hopes and dreams. He has ideas. He is a human, a boy. He is growing and changing. He is a smarty pants, who often lands himself in situations he really shouldn’t be in. He is Josh. He has a name. Hes a nephew, a son, a cousin. He is smart and funny, stubborn, and shy. He is more than what you see, and goes way beyond the surface level.
But the sad part is, not many choose to look beyond the label, beyond the box he has been placed in. They don’t look past the surface, and instead…get hung up on the one word “Autism.” They back away, as if it is somehow contagious, they stare confused as if it somehow is a complex matter that on a genius could understand. They don’t see him for who he is. They don’t see the Josh…and that, is sad.
Im not trying to say that he doesn’t have issues, he does. Many of them. What Im trying to say, is that he has enough issues, without having to worry about the way people view him, about being ashamed because he stuggles with a problem that other people don’t.
I think its sad, however, that more people cant seem to look past the box that they so badly want to put people in. I think its sad that they cant see past his label, and into the real person…I think its sad, but they are the ones that will be missing out.
Years ago, before Autism was even thought up of in our lives, someone told me that I shouldn’t take on the kids, that if they were to live with me, I would somehow compromise THEIR lives. Their futures. That I would somehow damper their potential. And there for a while, I believed them. I knew (and know) I cant give them the best, or the biggest. I know that I cant offer them name brands, and the most expensive. But what I find odd, is that now. Its not me who is ruining their futures. Its Josh.
A five year old little boy, who wants nothing more than to spend the next 10 minutes with his hero’s…and after that, he doesn’t care what happens.
A boy – who loves to scream, make noise, and drag his bear around. A boy who loves animals, cold peas, and books but hates water, new places, and most people. A boy who can make just about anyone laugh or embarrass the heck out of them, who attends school, is learning to interact with other people and happens to have autism.
His name? Is Josh.
His diagnosis? Autism
His personality, attitude, etc? Limitless
This morning I read a very thought provoking post over at Joys autism blog, where she mentioned that autism was something she was thankful for. It inspired some thoughts of my own, that sort of took off.
I am often guilty of swinging back and forth on my thoughts about autism. I often get upset that Josh has autism, knowing who he was before, and knowing the things he now struggles with. But then I get to thinking that he is who he is and that I should be accepting, and I am. I really am. Despite my latest rants on how much I hate him to have to struggle.
Is it possible to be thankful for something that causes Josh to struggle with so many different things?
A few weeks ago I wrote about a conversation I had with a man who said that when he feels down, he likes to look at special need peoples lives and think “Atleast I don’t have their problems” and then continues to feel good about himself. The mere thought of that makes me sick. Not just because you are making yourself feel good at another persons expense, but because often times special need people are looked at as enjoying life less, because of a certain disability. When in reality, they are most often happier than we as “Normal” people are
The word normal, is so misused, not only by myself but from others as well. What defines normal? What IS normal, why is normal so important? Why do we (or I) feel the need to be this alleged “Normal?”
Since getting Josh back, there have been a number of things that I have learned, and been taught. I like to think I have a different outlook on things now, but I don’t know how much of that would be true. I still find myself worried about what other people might think, not so much about us, but about Josh. I want him to fit in, and not have to worry, but on the other hand, I want him to be who he is, and if this is who he is, then that is ok.
Ive often wondered where the line is. How far is too far. Is getting him therapy, wrong? Is it somehow saying I don’t accept him, and he needs help? Help, for what? To “Fit in?” Why then, have I spent the majority of the year telling Madison that its ok NOT to fit in. That she doesn’t have to “Blend in” with the rest of the kids, and act just like them? Whats different about Josh?
I want him to grow up. I want him to be happy, healthy, and all that other stuff that factors into a somewhat “Normal” childhood. But why “Normal?” What do I see in “Normal” that I want for Josh? For Madison or Dylan for that matter?
Which brings me back to that word, the word that I misuse, and overuse. Normal.
Years ago, way back when, is that what I consider to be normal? When Emmy passed away, everyone told me that I would eventually return to being “Normal” but what struck me as odd, every time I was told that was the fact that I was being told I was somehow…NOT normal. That somehow, loosing my daughter turned me into a not normal, person. I was told that eventually I would find a NEW “Normal” which is something that has taken me years to understand. I don’t want to go into all the details now, but what Im trying to say is that everyone has their own definitions of being normal, and what normal is.
I can look back through my life and find different times when I honestly thought I was normal, where other times I would yell “WHY CANT I BE NORMAL.” What strikes me as odd now, is that I still wonder the same things. At certain times in my life, I think “Finally, Im normal” and at other times I wonder “Why cant we just be normal.” I guess to me, normal is a life without so many ups or downs. Which, who, really, has that?
I do accept Josh, and I don’t want him to change, just because he doesn’t fit in. I don’t want him to change because someone else wants him to. I don’t want him to think something is wrong with him, because nothing is. I want him to go, as far as he can go and not any further. Just like with Madison, or Dylan, I want him to succeed. But I don’t want him, or them, to ever be pressured into being someone that they arent.
Josh has a lot to learn, a long ways to go. But you know what? So do I.
I didn’t fight this long to get Josh back, just to try and change him into who he isn’t. I fought this long to get him back, so he could be who he is, without having to worry, or wonder…and while a lot of the time, Im guilty of swinging back and forth, wanting him to be this or that…I hope that he grows up to be who he is, and not who I, or anyone else, want him to be.
Is it possible to be thankful for a kid who finds happiness out of the small simple things? Who enjoys life, who is (mostly) happy, healthy, and growing by leaps and bounds?
…so yes, as the month slowly approaches thanksgiving, I hope I can honestly say without a doubt that I am thankful for Josh (and Madison and Dylan too!) and autism.
Filed under: Molly, The kiddos | Tags: disconnected & random, Josh, My thoughts
Everyday, after Josh gets out of school, we have about 2 hours before Dylan comes home, and another ½ hour or so, before Madison shows up.
People often have told me that Josh wont ever be like “Other kids” and most times, Im ok with it. Do I really want him to be like “Everyone else”, what IS the real definition of normal? Yea, I trip just about every other day, over some stupid comment, or thought that has crossed my path. But for the most part, I really am ok with him. Being who he is. How he is. Im pretty much happy to have him here, to have full custody of him, to not have to have him worry about living with his dad, or being sent around to different homes. To have him healthy, and mostly happy. Most times, that is enough. Even though it seems that as of lately, things have been negative, things have been pretty good.
Really. Shocker, I know.
For the most part, we are striving to put the pieces back. Not how they were, but trying instead to find where they belong now. Not trying to recreate the past, but trying to put the pieces where they need to be, for what they all the “New Normal.” Which is something I often, despise.
I don’t want the new, I want the old. But I know I cant have the old, and the only way. The ONLY way to move on, is to accept that…and move on.
It hasn’t been easy. Its been far from easy. We arent there yet, wherever there is. But its ok. Really. Were here. Where we are, and that is ok. It has to be.
Sometimes it takes more convincing. More convincing myself that it IS ok, that THIS IS ok, that it IS ok. I have to remind myself of that quite often…because a lot of the time, it just doesn’t seem ok. It just doesn’t. Nothing seems right. Most of the time, everything seems quite off.
But it is ok. Really.
Molly used to wait at the window, for the kids to come home. The hour after her nap, and before the kids came home, often seemed the longest. When she would sit at the window and whine, and ask what time it was, if it was time, if she could go, what time it was, if it was time, and well, you get the idea. At 3:15 I would fight her into her shoes and coat, open the door and watch her coat come off as she ran her heart out to the bottom of the hill, where she would wait.
It was the perfect combination. She got her freedom, I was able to watch her.
Most days she would throw rocks, kick the dirt, pick leaves, throw them in the air…but some days, she sat still. Waiting. As anticipation built inside. She sat on a rock at the bottom of the drive way, thinking she was free. That she was so big, waiting for the bus. Alone.
When the bus would come, she would jump, and I could almost hear her scream. The kids would run off and give her the hug she would be waiting for, and together, they would race up the hill and into the house.
It was the 15 minutes that she looked forward to everyday. Every single day, she would wait. She would get excited, ditch her coat and run. Run. Run.
Yesterday I took Josh out to meet the kids. We walked a few yards away from the house and stood at the main road waiting for the bus to show up. I don’t know if he really understood what we were doing, but he got the idea when the bus showed up (after initially freaking out) that the kids were home…and just like with Molly they ran off the bus and gave him a hug. The hug he had been waiting for all afternoon.
This afternoon, as the time got closer for the kids to come home, he brought me his coat.
And a thousand and one thoughts ran through my head as I helped him get his shoes on and walked him down the road, to get the kids off the bus.
Filed under: The kiddos | Tags: Dylan, Josh, Madison, Thats part of "Growing up"
*Pumpkin Gutting ahead*
Pumpkin gutting…
Is serious work.
Sometimes.
Happy Halloween from us, to you.
“But why….”
“I don’t know why”
“Why not…”
“Because I don’t know…”
“How come…”
“I. DON’T. KNOW. And if you ask that one more time…”
“Why…”
Sometimes I feel like the one asking the questions, especially when it comes to Josh, and autism, and all of this other issues that I cant even keep track of.
I never claimed to understand everything, especially not everything about autism. I don’t know if vaccines cause autism, I don’t know what the difference really is between certain types of autism, I don’t understand as much as I honestly should. Even though days after getting the diagnosis I bought every damn book recommended to me. I didn’t understand anything more after reading those books, and infact, was just more confused. Special diets. Vaccines. The wrong look. It seemed everything was pointed out as a factor for autism…what I was looking for wasn’t there. I wanted a black and white answer. A finger pointing THAT way, that said “Yes, this is a tried and true cure and cause for autism.” But I found none of that. Infact, I found nothing. Just a pile of books, a handful of unwilling therapist, and a kid who acted like acid was being poured on him every time it came to taking baths.
Of course, there were and are other factors. Such as the possible abuse that occurred at his dads. The PTSD the rest of the labels that I cant even keep track of, that constantly seemed to be changing. While I wanted black and white, cut and dry, I also wanted answers. I wanted to know why, how, when, where, what. I needed to know how to help him, when to help him. But at the same time, I wanted him to grow just like any other child. I didn’t want to give him a crutch to help him through life, didn’t want to disable him in the areas he was capable. I wanted clear lines drawn, not invisible lines that it seemed I was constantly tripping over daily.
Its been a few months since those initial diagnosis’s were made. During these past few months we have covered large areas of ground, perhaps too quickly. Perhaps the state was too eager to get his case out of the system, or I was too busy looking for answers that simply didn’t exist. Maybe we were all focused on the wrong things, money, therapist, help, options, etc. Instead of focusing in on what and who really mattered: Josh.
I don’t honestly know…but I sure wish I did.
Sometimes I just want to sit down and ask: Why. Why not. How come. Why.
Sometimes I want to know. Dammit. I want answers. I want a reason. I want a clear, cut and dry yes or no. I don’t care how far out there it is, as long as it is concrete. Proven to be. And most of all, true.
I wish it were simple. Or atleast, not this complex. Maybe it is, maybe its just me, making it more difficult than it really needs to be.
I find myself getting frustrated lately. Its like I am constantly running into a brick wall. Like no matter what way I turn, there is a road block. Not just a stop sign, but a brick wall.
I know that Josh has made progress, but I don’t want him to have MADE, I want him to be MAKING. I want him to be “Caught up.” I want him to be, normal, sometimes. Can I say that? Can I say that I wish he didn’t struggle with the things he did? Can I say that I wish he didn’t NEED therapy to help with something that shouldn’t have happened? Can I say that I want him to live a normal life? Is it wrong? Because I get the feeling that it is. That Im not accepting him for who he is. That because I don’t want to accept the damage that has been done to him, that Im not accepting Josh, the way I wish others would.
My biggest fear, and yes, I realize this has changed weekly, is that Josh will grow up thinking that somehow, I havent accepted him. That he will spend his whole life trying to somehow win my acceptance. I know, I could argue why would he care what I think? But the more I think that, the more I realize he looks up to the people closest to him, he strives to please those he knows care about him, and he struggles to fit in.
Hes only five.
When is enough, enough for one child?
As if loosing his mom before he was even old enough to know what the word meant, wasn’t bad enough. His life has been uprooted so many times, that I wouldn’t be surprised if that is part of his problems, He didn’t have the stability he needed when he was really little, his dad abused him, and he has autism…and so much more…
When, is enough, enough?
When does a regular childhood fit into the equation? When does growing up happen? When does living that carefree life fall into place? When does going to the park become fun, not stressful, terrifying, and earth shattering? When does attending preschool become FUN?
I realize, Im all over the place tonight. I don’t make much sense. Im not trying to. I just, sometimes, wish I had answers. Answers. To questions that I wish I didn’t have to be asking. For a kid who deserves more than what hes been given. Im not asking for him NOT to have autism, Im just asking when is enough, enough? When will he get answers to questions he doesn’t even know to ask? When will it be enough, when will I stop asking questions that I have no business asking, putting more pressure on him, asking him to change, and be someone, or something he isn’t…and just accept that things are the way they are…and that it really is ok.
Things have been rather, chaotic the past few weeks here, with changes and what not.
This weekend, I decided to take Madi out, its been a while. I say that every time I take her somewhere. “Its been a while” but as hard as I try, I just cant seem to get it right. I say every time that were going to do it more often, that I am going to make time, that I will try harder, but every time, I fail, and wind up trying to make up for lost time with some sugar laden treat that she rarely gets.
The thing about her, is she can talk, and you get her entire life story in the matter of minutes. Add sugar, and you’ve got her entire life story and THEN some in less than five minutes. Which is good, because I can catch up with her in less than five minutes. You can get her to talk about anything, but once you get her started, don’t try to stop her, especially is sugar has been involved, because there will be NO stopping her, no matter what.
This morning, she decided she wanted to get pancakes, with strawberries and whip cream, and all that sugary stuff. We pulled into a little diner, she ordered, and there we sat. Florescent lights, red booths, the smell of smoke floating mixed with cheep diner food, and coffee. Her on one side, me on the other. For once she was quiet, looking out the window behind me, she smiled…
I don’t know what it is, but every time I take her out, alone, I get…tied up. Knowing that all I have to do is ask her one question, and the rest will be history. Its like I don’t know her, like she doesn’t belong with me, like I shouldn’t be sitting there with her, like Im doing something wrong…being seen in public, just her and I. Every time I am with her, she seems to have grown atleast an inch, changed in so many ways, its almost hard to know where to begin. I find it hard, sometimes, to relate to her. I know nothing about what shes going through, no way to help her…
“Hows school?”
It’s the one topic I know I can count on, her eyes lit up, and she didn’t waste anytime filling me in on all of her favorite subjects, teachers, and friends. She told me all about her latest idea, and who she wants to be like when she grows up, more, that is. Correcting herself, just to make sure I know that she already IS grown up. Her pancakes arrived, and I heard about her friends, their friends, and their favorite past times. I heard about the party that she didn’t want to attend, and why she didn’t want to. She laughed as she told me a story, between bites, and at one point, strawberries flew across the table because something that I never did quite understand, was so funny.
For 30 minutes, it was just her and I.
Almost as if the rest of the world didn’t exist…and if it did, they didn’t matter. 80’s music blared from the speakers, the table behind us roared in laughter, and she pushed her plate away, with a grin.
I sent her to the bathroom to wash her hands, as I surveyed the bill, pulled some money out, and drank the last of my coffee.
Then I sat there, waiting for her to return, taking in my surroundings that I had blocked out for the past 30 minutes. The laughter, the music, the smells, the sites…and then I wondered how I got so lucky.
How the worst possible things in my life, have turned into something like this. How something so tragic and unfair could turn into something like this. Something that words don’t do justice to explain, something that I never thought would be possible, but as I walked out to the truck, watching her race ahead burning off some pent up energy, I realized that not only had I let myself love again…but I had let myself love her, like a daughter.
Its been a year.
One year.
Since Josh came home. Where, has the time gone?
I was thinking about it earlier this afternoon. A year ago, he came home on a three month basis, and a year later, he is here. To stay. For good. Its over.
I was thinking back over the past year, trying to think what his “BIGGEST” accomplishment to date, would be. And for a while, I was really hung up. Would it be the fact that he is (sometimes) using the bathroom? Would it be the fact that he is going to school, and riding the bus? Would it be that hes learning, growing and changing daily? Would it be the diagnosis? What should I focus on? Which of these already big accomplishment would be considered the biggest?
It hit me sometime this afternoon, that I was missing it. I was missing everything, altogether. I was focused in on his accomplishments, that yes, have been great and big, and have made us proud. But they didn’t hold anything to what I would honestly consider his GREATEST accomplishment. Who cares about biggest?
A year ago, when he came home, he was terrified. Timid, and very un-trusting. I think it goes without saying that he has come a long way in this area. When he first arrived, he would spend hours in a corner, alone, watching as the world spun by, watching things, but never daring to step in himself. Never daring to get involved. One of the hardest things was watching him freak out when Madison or Dylan got too close, and knowing that he didn’t trust them. Knowing that he didn’t want anything to do with them, and would have been perfectly happy if they stayed away all day.
He made it obvious, that he wanted nothing to do with them. At all.
Ive lost track of how many times Madison asked me when he would like her again. I don’t know how many times I tried to tell them to “Just give him time, and space…yes…space.” Because it seemed the only thing that made him a little less uneasy about the whole set up, was space. But as time wore on, it was impossible to go through a day without some sort of major freak out of his part. Dylan would absentmindedly sit by him, Madison would breeze past, and I was constantly stepping over those invisible lines that he had drawn.
Perhaps the hardest thing about getting him back was knowing that I could fix a lot of things, but there was nothing I could do about this. To watch them all struggle, in different ways, over the same issue.
Its sometimes hard to remember, and look back, and remind myself that yes, for a few months, there was a time when Josh wanted absolutely NOTHING to do with them. Its hard, not painfully hard, but difficult, because looking at them now, you wouldnt know. Its hard to recall, because it seems like just yesterday he came home, and if that were the case, how would there have been time “In-between” for him to be so distant?
Now however, things are different.
If Dylan is doing something, Josh wants has to be right beside him, doing exactly what hes doing, exactly HOW hes doing it. Which is ok, most times, unless of course, Dylan is doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Such as tormenting Madi. Then we have issues – because not only is there ONE boy after her, there a are two, plus myself.
If Madison is reading, Josh wants to read with her. He wants to be in her stuff, in her business, and is all about her things, even though he knows hes not suppose to be. Its very uncommon to find him NOT in the middle of their excitement. He cries if they run off too fast for him, and stares out the window if they forget him go somewhere without him. He squeals with excitement when they come home, and enjoys every shred of their time they give to him.
Looking at them now, you wouldn’t know that there was a time, not too long ago, when he would yell, and thrash around if they walked too close to him. You wouldn’t know there was a time when he didn’t worship the ground they walked on. You wouldn’t know there was a time, when he didn’t think they hung the stars at night. You wouldn’t know, because it seems like the most natural thing that has ever happened.
The relationship they all share is different, yes. But in a way, I think its stronger, because its different. They arent all “Blood siblings” like so many think. They are all at different stages in their lives, different places, and have been through different things. They have been separated and lived apart for a time…
But they have become closer than they were before. They are a team, a work of art, they are the unbreakable three.
Yes. They fight. They scream. They yell. They hit. The name call. They bicker, and even “Hate” each other at times. But when it comes right on down to it, I don’t think Josh would pass up an opportunity to spend time with his newborn hero’s. I don’t think he would let anyone, or anything, get between what they now have, and vice versa.
I worry about a lot of things, but I don’t worry about one aspect of his future, and that is him being alone…because I honestly dont think they would let anything ever happen to the boy who isnt exactly their younger brother. They are tight, much tighter than before. In my opinion, this may not be the biggest accomplishment that Josh has made, but to be honest, I think this is the greatest. Stepping out, and trusting his “Tighter-than-before, not-quite-siblings.”
Because while all of these things are great, and I couldn’t be happier that he is starting to relax a bit, and accomplish other things…Nothing, holds up to having lasting relationships that have, and will continue, to carry him further than the ”Biggest” accomplishment ever could.
Sometimes I think nothing has changed these past few years, but then I have to remember that is only because the world has been flipped upside down, and is just now…starting to turn right side up.
Every Sunday, an old neighbor comes by, and picks Madison and Dylan up for the day. Sometimes, shes takes Josh, but most often, he stays behind with me, and we spend the day soaking in the unusual silence. Its not that hes not loud, because he is. But he picks up on the other two, and isn’t usually loud unless they are around. I couldn’t help but wonder this afternoon, if he too was enjoying the silence.
Filed under: Bragging Rights, The kiddos | Tags: Thats part of "Growing up", Change, Josh
Ahh yes. You thought I forgot, didn’t you? I was beginning to wonder the same thing. After all, the kids are 12, 10, & 5. Out of potty training ages, right? That’s what I would think too. But no. Were all wrong. Josh hasn’t (hadnt?) exactly started potty training yet. The problem wasn’t that he “Wasnt ready” it was that he was scared of bathrooms. Which made potty training difficult. Like, really difficult. Getting him INTO a bathroom was (and still can be) a struggle in itself, and by the time he was in there, any prep talk we had before entering, was long forgotten, and the only thoughts going through his mind were how to escape ASAP.
Over the past, month or so, weve worked him into the bathroom. It had gotten to the point where he would go in, not willingly, but without a big fuss. Making teeth brushing, slightly easier. Up until this point, I had been told to “Keep him out of there at all cost” to “Brush his teeth outside” and “Get a special potty to use” you guessed it, “Outside the bathroom.” I tried it. Once. Because I try mostly everything atleast once. The “Special potty” fell through when it started to sing when Josh sat on it…and I began having visions of Josh hauling this “Special potty” To high school with him. It wasn’t a thought I liked. We quickly ditched the idea, and decided that he would use the bathroom, just like everyone else.
I get the fact that he might have bad memories attached. I get that he has fears, and most likely a reason to. But I also happen to know that there isn’t any bad that is going to happen in the bathroom while I brush his teeth…and how else am I going to get him to see this, if he wont go in the bathroom?
Lately, hes been making some steps in the right direction. A few weeks ago he ventured in there – by himself – while the kids and I did our best not to FREAK OUT with excitement, not wanting to scare him, or make it a bigger deal that it should be. Im sure he wondered why we were all staring at him with odd grins plastered across our faces, but hey.
A few days later, he used the bathroom, for the first time, and again. The kids and I did our best to contain our excitement. It was a big moment, and we were all so proud of him, but we didn’t want to “Over do” our excitement and scare him, and so we calmly congratulated him, told him he did good, and moved on like it was really “No Big Deal” when clearly – it was.
Its one of those things that not many people would understand “Your excited because he went INTO a bathroom?” and we would all sit there and nod ferociously, because well, unless you know where hes coming from, you wouldn’t understand where our excitement is coming from.
Hes made great steps in the way of being potty trained. I know he already knows, when and where to go, it has just been the fear of a bathroom holding him back. The past few weeks, while at home, hes been sporting “Big boy underwear” and doing relatively well with them. The only problem is school. I havent felt comfortable sending him to school without a diaper or something of the sorts. Not because I didn’t think he was capable, but because I didn’t know if he would know how to tell someone he had to go, or if he would just get scared and forget about everything. He wasn’t thrilled with putting on a diaper yesterday, but seemed to forget about it a few minutes later.
Early on in the afternoon, the neighbor showed up and said I had a phone call. If anyone needs a phone number, I give them hers (with permission). Its more or less an emergency number, if someone needs to get a hold of me, they can call her, and she can get a hold of me. I knew it wasn’t good when she said I had a call, but when it was the school calling to say that Josh had an accident, and I needed to come right away, I more or less freaked out. A 15 minute drive was completed in less than 5, and I ran over a few stray people going through the doors to the school. Fearing the worse the entire time.
I was relieved to see Josh in the corner when I arrived, he was crying but appeared to be ok.
…and when his teacher told me what happened? I promptly burst out laughing, because I didn’t know what else TO do.
Apparently, about ½ through class, Josh pulled his pants down, and proceeded to have some form of an accident. Not the kind of accident I was prepared for, and since they weren’t clear on the phone, with what KIND of accident it was, I didn’t come prepared.
His teacher proceeded to tell me that he would need to be potty trained before he would be eligible for a “Regular” kindergarten class. She laid great emphasis on the word regular, but I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face.
The problem is, no one understands why I was so thrilled. It wasn’t just because Josh wasn’t in some sort of horrible accident that I had prepared for while speeding in. But rather because he was making progress in ways that I never anticipated him to. The thing with having a kid like Josh is that there arent typical milestones for him to meet. The progress he makes is so different than what you would expect. We celebrate the small things, the things that most other people don’t even notice, but rather enjoy without thinking about. The things that are harder for Josh to grasp. The small, crazy things that make me smile.
Some things, people just wont understand. Some things you will have to apply yourself a little more to see what we see in him. Some things, like yesterday, most people just will NOT understand. Those are the things, that we celebrate. The things that make us most happy. The things that no one else understands, are the things that we cant help but be proud over.
Yesterday was just such an incident. There was so much progress wrapped up into one small, minor accident. Infact, it was MORE than just an accident. It was a step, a giant step, with huge progress written all over it. He pulled his pants down (something he has never done before) he used the bathroom (outside of his diaper, albeit not the way we would hope him to) and he knew he didn’t do it right.
I know his teachers weren’t impressed, I know I might have a lot of explaining to do, but I couldn’t help but be a little bit proud of him.
He’s growing, he’s changing, he’s learning. And? He’s making progress in the right direction. Or atleast, we like to think so.
Filed under: Moving on letting go, The kiddos | Tags: Change, Kids, My thoughts
I wasn’t ready for this. Wasn’t ready to say good bye to the long stretches of rare sun, close the windows and hope for the best as winter blows in, because, lets face it, we will skip right on over fall. I wasn’t ready this year. It seems that’s when change often happens, is when Im simply: Not ready.
When I first decided that I was going to get myself in action and get the kids back, my lawyer advised me to go all the way with it. I never wanted to actually “Adopt” them, not that I have anything against adoption, I just didn’t want to replace their parents. They had parents, and I wasn’t going to replace them. But my lawyer told me that the best option, in this case, our case, was to go all the way with it. For a number of different reasons, but mainly because its been so messy, that saying I would adopt them, fully, would get rid of a lot of the mess.
Even though all the paper work was finalized, and the court had said they were mine, and I believed it (as far as I could) things really havent sunk in, just yet. Josh sort of put the finalization on things, when I got him back, it was final. It was over. There was nothing more that could, or can, be done. They are mine, and that, is that. But it still hasn’t been “Final” per say. It just hasn’t seemed final. Maybe part of it is waiting for something to happen, waiting for the floor to move, and bottom out. Maybe its not wanting to trust, and give in to something that might possibly end up back where we started, I don’t know. But it just hasn’t seemed final.
Late last week, I popped into my lawyers office for a few minutes, and he told me that the final papers were done, with myself as the father, on all three kids. It hit me differently than I expected. Even though, to be honest, I wasn’t sure really, what I was expecting. I wanted to tell him, that I wasn’t their father, to redo everything, and put me back as guardian. I was happy there. I wanted to blurt out that they weren’t MY kids, they HAD parents, and I WASN’T one of them. But he handed me the folder, said a few more things, and shuffled me out the door before I had a chance to blurt out my two cents.
But I never opened it.
Its been sitting here on the desk, and has gotten buried by other papers. Its not that Ive forgotten about them, its that I havent wanted to open them. Havent wanted to see them, havent wanted to go there, just yet.
There are a lot of thoughts that have been in my mind, ever since that day. Thoughts that I needed to deal with before I opened it. Thoughts that were related, and unrelated to the situation at hand, but still thoughts that needed dealt with. Emmy was my daughter. My only daughter…and while the kids are very important to me, no one can, or could ever replace her. The kids had parents…and again, no one can or ever will be able to replace them. I don’t want to try and fill their shoes, because I cant, and I wont ever tell the kids they don’t or didn’t have parents. They know as well as I do, that they had parents who loved them. When I said I would get the kids back, when I made that decision, Molly was part of it, and while I know she wont ever be coming back, putting an end to all of this is like putting an end to her. Like saying her memory, is over. Or, you know, something like that.
And finally.
Am I really cut out for this? Can I really assume the position? I know I already have, but with papers, it makes things all that much more final. Am I really ready for this? Is it best for the kids? And so forth.
This past weekend was really rough. With all these thoughts rolling around, I was faced with a few situations that made me reconsider myself as even an option FOR the kids. Was I right for them? A few days ago, someone pointed out to me that Madison is still insecure…and in a way, I think that comes from me, not giving her the security that she needs. Not being able to tell her that “Yes, this is final” because I honestly don’t know.
But today, we uncovered the orange envelope…the one that was addressed to my lawyer, and had my name on the front of it…and we opened it.
…and it was just all that more final, that they are mine.
Its amazing what a piece (or three pieces) of paper can do. Its amazing what one persons word can do, its amazing. Really. And to be honest, I don’t think this is something that is going to stop, just now, because I have three pieces of paper. Its going to be a continual thing, not just something that can have an end put to it. Sure, eventually, we will all adjust, and learn that its ok to make plans to stick around for a while, but it will always be there, atleast for me, and its nice, every once and a while, to be reminded, that yes….them? Those kids? The ones running wild, screaming, and yelling, protesting, and sharing their germs with me? Their mine.
…and for the most part? Im ok with it.
After reading over the papers we had gotten, Madison was quiet for a few minutes and then asked “So does this mean we can call you dad?”
