>> Friday, June 5, 2009
So, what to do with this blog when I run out of questions? I've been thinking. (It's what I do, sorry).
There a gillions [technical term] of blogs where people rant and vent. Nothing wrong with that and I'll likely do that once in a while, but it's more likely to be on Rocket Scientist rather than here. Instead, I thought I'd write a blog about something I'm grateful for. I mean, not only is extended self-pity obnoxious to be around, it's also self-perpetuating and, let's face it, there is always someone who has it worse. And I have a lot to be thankful for. For instance, my children.
I'm not talking about the fact that they're beautiful and talented and charming, though that's nice, too. I'm grateful because they are healthy and (mostly) happy [not Roxy at the moment because we just put her to bed, but usually].
My eldest is fourteen, sharp as a tack, up to her eyeballs in contrariness and gorgeous. She can draw, paint, sing, anything, really, she wants. Her first year was challenging. She had ear infections (never quite bad enough for tubes), pneumonia twice, once had one of my hairs caught around a toe so bad it turned purple and a tendency toward allergies. But she was speaking and talking by the end of the year. When she was five, she got shingles. (I've had them twice myself - Native American genes). But, you know, she's still mostly healthy. I've never had to deal with severe mental disorders or extended hospital stays. She's never broken a bone or contracted anything that wasn't minor, just a few stitches on one occasion.
My youngest daughter is fifteen months and has hardly had a cold. She's happy, alert, ahead of the game vocabulary- and coordination-wise. She's got a definite personality, has had an ear infection or any other signs of problems. And she's so sweet and smart.
Alex is five. He doesn't talk. He doesn't draw. He won't sit still for story books or do anything on command. He is cute and was and is one of the happiest healthiest children I've ever known. He is low maintenance preferring to eat finger foods you leave with him and let him eat alone. He has a heckuva a career ahead of him in demolition because, let me tell you, that boy is gifted. He isn't always easy to work with and, believe me, there were many dark days in the four years eleven months and two weeks where he refused to be potty trained. But, when he decided to do it, it was done instantly. And that's the thing. They have him classified in the "autistic spectrum" but the differences are as pointed as the similarities. He loves being hugged. He'll look you in your eyes. He has NO trouble reading or expressing emotion. He has the most gorgeous dimples ever (see picture). He'll shop all day happily (he loves it). Ditto for swimming or playing outside. He loves to go. Many of the things he's graded low on in his pre-school he can do just fine - he just won't do it when someone tells him to. I still think that may be part of the talking, too.
I don't know what the future holds, not for Alex, not for my girls. No one does.
But I wouldn't trade any of them for the most perfect responsive exceptional children in the world. They're perfect for me. I love them just the way they are and actually can wait to see what they become because I'm not in a rush to lose what I have now.
I'm lucky to have them in my life. And very very grateful.