Whew.
It's late (for me, anyway) and the house is finally quiet. Just a couple of hours ago I was ready to call it a day and head to bed early, but I so look forward to my Sunday nights that I stuck it out to be sure I'd be the last one up. Even just a few minutes of quiet time is worth the wait.
So the television is off. I just finished a chocolatey peppermint latte from my favorite mug, and I'm not even concerned that it might keep me awake. I have a fall-smelling candle burning, my new little electric fireplace is flickering away, and I can hear rain on the roof. Perfect.
It has been a long week. Sam is getting around quite well with crutches, but is still having some pain. He's now beginning to feel the frustration of needing help to do so many things, not being able to just jump up and walk to the kitchen to get a glass of water ... and the boredom - or cabin fever, maybe - that comes with limited mobility. Having been there myself, I feel for him. I wonder how much he'll have to relearn after tomorrow when he will have a cast put on the full length of his leg.
Aside from the drive, I am looking forward to Sam's appointment tomorrow with the orthopedist. Mostly because I am eager to hear a report on how he's doing, and I'll be glad once he has a more stable barrier between his broken bones and the rest of the world. Sam finally felt he could handle school on Friday last week and I was a mess all day thinking he might stumble and fall or get jostled too much in the hallways. I'm beginning to think my friends' suggestion of bubble wrap for this kid isn't such a bad idea. Fortunately we have two short weeks ahead with Thursday and Friday off school both this week and next. Which will be great for my kiddo to relax and heal ... not so great for me, who could use some kid-free time to catch up around here.
Does it seem like I am always trying to catch up? Geesh.
Lots more to talk about, but I am getting sleepy and if there is one thing I know for sure, it is that sleep is almost always a good choice.
Have a blessed week.
Showing posts with label Sam. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sam. Show all posts
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
When a good afternoon goes bad.
Poor Sam.
This kid has been riding a bicycle since he could walk, practically. He chucked those training wheels as soon as he could work a wrench to take 'em off. And he has made my heart skip a beat on countless occasions with his tricks and tumbles.
I wouldn't call him a daredevil, really. More like ... determined. He knows what he wants to do and he will try and try until he gets it right.
But Sunday afternoon he was just a teenage boy riding his bicycle around in the driveway when he popped a wheelie, the back tire hit a hole, and when he bailed off his body went one way while his bike - with his right foot caught between the pedal and the rear peg - went the other.
He told us he heard the snap.
I know. *shudder*
So Sam and I spent the evening and most of the night in hospitals and ambulances - first a ride to a local hospital, then a transfer to a children's hospital a miserable, bumpy, 1.5-hour drive away.
At any point in the night I would have gladly traded places with him so my kiddo didn't have to experience that kind of pain. But that second ambulance ride? Oh man. Talk about feeling helpless. It was definitely one of those moments when it would have been nice to have Steve here - a strong shoulder for me to lean on and the voice of comfort Sam really wanted. Because mom will do in a pinch, but he truly is daddy's boy. And I know that was hard for Steve, too. Hard to hear me tell him what happened, and then Sam's scared voice on the phone. But as parents we suck it up for our kids, don't we? We stay strong for them when it feels like we're dying inside. We offer them comfort when we feel like we don't really have any more to give.
Sam is now experiencing the pain of a broken bone. Two, in fact. Right above his ankle. At the children's hospital he was sedated and his leg was set back into place and splintered. Sometime within the next week we will go back to see an orthopedist who will put a cast on. The ortho doctor in the ER told us the cast will be up to Sam's thigh because the break involved the growth plate in his ankle so the entire leg needs to be immobilized to heal properly. He will likely have to have it on for at least 3-4 weeks.
Dude. That sucks.
He's been getting around on crutches pretty good, mostly between the couch and the bathroom. The last couple nights he has slept in my king size bed with me - it's just easier for him to get to the bathroom if he needs to, and I'm right there if he wakes up in pain or needs to adjust his position. And frankly, his room is a disaster so he'd probably break the other leg trying to maneuver around in there. I'm going to remedy that any day now. Right after I get a shower. And maybe wash some dishes.
The house may be a wreck, but my boy is fed and appropriately drugged. And as I write he is actually doing homework. Mom Of The Year? Come on, throw me a bone.
Speaking of bones ... this caring for a kid with a broken leg thing is 100 times harder with two dogs in the house. I would pay a million dollars for a fenced-in yard right now. Gunnar is totally freaked out by those crutches, and I'm sure Sam smells a little funky. Yeah. When we get around to getting him in the shower ... that should be interesting. I know how difficult it was for me when I had a broken ankle a few years ago, and I didn't have a cast/splint to keep dry.
And we're not even going to talk about the younger child who already feels like she gets the short end of the deal. *sigh* I am only one person.
If you are the praying sort, we sure could use some.
This kid has been riding a bicycle since he could walk, practically. He chucked those training wheels as soon as he could work a wrench to take 'em off. And he has made my heart skip a beat on countless occasions with his tricks and tumbles.
I wouldn't call him a daredevil, really. More like ... determined. He knows what he wants to do and he will try and try until he gets it right.
But Sunday afternoon he was just a teenage boy riding his bicycle around in the driveway when he popped a wheelie, the back tire hit a hole, and when he bailed off his body went one way while his bike - with his right foot caught between the pedal and the rear peg - went the other.
He told us he heard the snap.
I know. *shudder*
So Sam and I spent the evening and most of the night in hospitals and ambulances - first a ride to a local hospital, then a transfer to a children's hospital a miserable, bumpy, 1.5-hour drive away.
At any point in the night I would have gladly traded places with him so my kiddo didn't have to experience that kind of pain. But that second ambulance ride? Oh man. Talk about feeling helpless. It was definitely one of those moments when it would have been nice to have Steve here - a strong shoulder for me to lean on and the voice of comfort Sam really wanted. Because mom will do in a pinch, but he truly is daddy's boy. And I know that was hard for Steve, too. Hard to hear me tell him what happened, and then Sam's scared voice on the phone. But as parents we suck it up for our kids, don't we? We stay strong for them when it feels like we're dying inside. We offer them comfort when we feel like we don't really have any more to give.
Sam is now experiencing the pain of a broken bone. Two, in fact. Right above his ankle. At the children's hospital he was sedated and his leg was set back into place and splintered. Sometime within the next week we will go back to see an orthopedist who will put a cast on. The ortho doctor in the ER told us the cast will be up to Sam's thigh because the break involved the growth plate in his ankle so the entire leg needs to be immobilized to heal properly. He will likely have to have it on for at least 3-4 weeks.
Dude. That sucks.
He's been getting around on crutches pretty good, mostly between the couch and the bathroom. The last couple nights he has slept in my king size bed with me - it's just easier for him to get to the bathroom if he needs to, and I'm right there if he wakes up in pain or needs to adjust his position. And frankly, his room is a disaster so he'd probably break the other leg trying to maneuver around in there. I'm going to remedy that any day now. Right after I get a shower. And maybe wash some dishes.
The house may be a wreck, but my boy is fed and appropriately drugged. And as I write he is actually doing homework. Mom Of The Year? Come on, throw me a bone.
Speaking of bones ... this caring for a kid with a broken leg thing is 100 times harder with two dogs in the house. I would pay a million dollars for a fenced-in yard right now. Gunnar is totally freaked out by those crutches, and I'm sure Sam smells a little funky. Yeah. When we get around to getting him in the shower ... that should be interesting. I know how difficult it was for me when I had a broken ankle a few years ago, and I didn't have a cast/splint to keep dry.
And we're not even going to talk about the younger child who already feels like she gets the short end of the deal. *sigh* I am only one person.
If you are the praying sort, we sure could use some.
Sunday, October 28, 2012
Clean Slate Sunday: 10.28.12 Confirmation Edition
We've had a busy weekend, one of those times I am happy to see coming to a close so we can return to our usual routine. But it's been good. Steve has been home since Thursday after finishing the project he was working on in Detroit and hauling the travel trailer home for the winter. Before he got home he already had another gig lined up - this time in Colorado. It will be a longer trek than what he's (we've) done in the past, but a shorter time period, too. Like six weeks or so, which would have them wrapping up around Christmas time. The kids are already trying to figure out how we can get out there to visit. I'm thinking Christmas in Colorado would be awesome, but it all remains to be seen as Steve has some training to do on-line and will likely head out there at the end of this week. We'll know more once he's settled in. For now we're just enjoying having him here at home.
Yesterday Rachel's basketball team had their first game. They lost, but they played tough and Rachel scored twice. I was so proud of all the girls.
Today was a big day for Sam, and another proud mama moment. After two years of classes, retreats, camp, community and church service, Sam was confirmed as an adult member of our church. I'm so glad he has a personal relationship with Christ, and my prayer is that he finds plenty of guidance in our church family as he reaches adulthood.
Yesterday Rachel's basketball team had their first game. They lost, but they played tough and Rachel scored twice. I was so proud of all the girls.
Today was a big day for Sam, and another proud mama moment. After two years of classes, retreats, camp, community and church service, Sam was confirmed as an adult member of our church. I'm so glad he has a personal relationship with Christ, and my prayer is that he finds plenty of guidance in our church family as he reaches adulthood.
Sam with Pastor Bill during the service at our church - Victory Trinity Lutheran.
Sam and his confirmation classmate Ian help with communion at our sister church, Bethany Lutheran, where Sam attended classes. Sam was the only person of confirmation age at our small country church, so he joined two others at Bethany and we attended both services today.
So technically I guess he was confirmed twice.
Which I'm sure you know he was incredibly excited about.
I hope it takes. Heh.
This view just cracked me up. Typical boys ... whispering during church.
And it's official. Doesn't he look happy?
(He was not down with the robe business at all.)
(Also, there was cake and punch waiting downstairs.)
God's blessings on you, son.
So. Tomorrow is Monday. This week the calendar is decidedly much lighter than it was last week, though we do have Halloween coming up and I'm sure things will fill in as we go along. And if the Tigers can pull off a win in Game 3 of the World Series tonight, it's going to be a long week of late nights watching more baseball. Here's hoping!
Friday, February 3, 2012
On the road to recovery. Or more aptly titled: How would you know if you couldn't remember what you forgot?
It is only because Sam is doing well after thumping his melon that we can joke about it.
For instance, I have to laugh about what the ER doctor told me to expect over the next few days and weeks: Sam might be more emotional than usual; it might be a little more difficult to wake him up; he might have trouble focusing and might be forgetful.
None of those things would alarm me coming from this particular child.
The hospital discharge papers say "a concussion occurs when there is a blow to the head with enough force to shake up the brain."
A 13-yr-old kid with a jumbled up brain? Imagine.
In all seriousness, Sam's doctor told him today he is doing great neurologically and just needs to take it easy for a while. No rough-housing. No contact sports - so his Saturday bowling league is fine. But no skiing for a few weeks.
Sam is beyond bummed out that he can't ski. I am elated that the doctor made that call for us and I didn't have to be the meanie who told him NO.
Yesterday afternoon and today, Sam told me he hasn't had any trouble remembering things at school. My response to him is, "How do you know if you can't remember something?"
Hmm.
So, other than a mama's obvious concern over her kiddo's recent head trauma, things are returning to normal around here ... though the stress of the past couple days is catching up with me and I am exhausted. Early bedtime tonight, sleeping in tomorrow, and vegging out most of the weekend are all sounding pretty good right about now.
~ ~ ~
P.S. Thank you to all who did (and continue to) pray for Sam, sent good vibes our way, called, sent texts, and generally kept us in your thoughts. We are blessed to have so many people in our lives who care.
For instance, I have to laugh about what the ER doctor told me to expect over the next few days and weeks: Sam might be more emotional than usual; it might be a little more difficult to wake him up; he might have trouble focusing and might be forgetful.
None of those things would alarm me coming from this particular child.
The hospital discharge papers say "a concussion occurs when there is a blow to the head with enough force to shake up the brain."
A 13-yr-old kid with a jumbled up brain? Imagine.
In all seriousness, Sam's doctor told him today he is doing great neurologically and just needs to take it easy for a while. No rough-housing. No contact sports - so his Saturday bowling league is fine. But no skiing for a few weeks.
Sam is beyond bummed out that he can't ski. I am elated that the doctor made that call for us and I didn't have to be the meanie who told him NO.
Yesterday afternoon and today, Sam told me he hasn't had any trouble remembering things at school. My response to him is, "How do you know if you can't remember something?"
Hmm.
So, other than a mama's obvious concern over her kiddo's recent head trauma, things are returning to normal around here ... though the stress of the past couple days is catching up with me and I am exhausted. Early bedtime tonight, sleeping in tomorrow, and vegging out most of the weekend are all sounding pretty good right about now.
~ ~ ~
P.S. Thank you to all who did (and continue to) pray for Sam, sent good vibes our way, called, sent texts, and generally kept us in your thoughts. We are blessed to have so many people in our lives who care.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
A cautionary tale: WEAR YOUR FREAKIN' HELMET.
It is after midnight as I begin to write and here I sit in the dim light in our living room half numb, half high on adrenaline, part of me wanting to crawl out of my skin and scream at the top of my lungs, another part wanting to crawl under the covers on my bed and sleep for a week. Maybe it was all a bad dream.
But it wasn't a dream. No, rather it was that nightmare of a phone call every parent dreads receiving: "The ambulance is on its way. We need your permission to send your child to the hospital for treatment."
It was Wednesday. Wednesday is Ski Club day. Sam wouldn't be home until late, so Rachel and I took the opportunity to have a little date night. We went for pizza - her choice - and then we needed to do a little shopping for a few things to finish a school project. As I parked the truck at our final stop I saw my cell phone glowing in my purse.
Who's calling? Nobody ever calls me.
As I grabbed the phone to answer, the screen went dark. Missed it. I checked my missed calls - there were four of them. Steve, my brother, a number I didn't recognize, and then Steve again. Oh hell. My brother rarely calls me. I thought something happened to Steve. He's in Pennsylvania. How the heck could I get to Pennsylvania fast enough?
I dialed Steve's number. "I just got off the phone with Ski Patrol," he said.
My heart stopped.
In my head: Oh God. Please tell me Sam was wearing his helmet.
I don't know what I actually said. It's all a blur now. I do know I had Steve on speaker phone, and as he told me Sam had fallen and hit his head and been knocked unconscious I heard Rachel gasp and then start to cry in the seat next to me. They were waiting for EMS, he told me, and I needed to call Ms. B, the ski club advisor, so someone could tell me where to go.
By the time I got off the phone with Steve I had a voicemail from Ms. B. I spoke with her, then she handed the phone to Sam and I tried my best to console him. He was scared and didn't know what had happened. It felt like someone was ripping my heart right out of my chest - my firstborn hurt, confused and crying on the other end of the line, my baby sitting next to me crying, worried about her big brother.
I spoke with the gentleman from ski patrol. Sam was ok at that moment, he said, but the ambulance should be there any minute and they might want to take him to the hospital as a precaution. I asked him to call me as soon as they knew more, gave my consent to follow whatever procedure the EMT's felt necessary, and I would drive to get Sam wherever I needed to. I hightailed it home to drop Rachel off with my in-laws and wait for the call.
By the time I got home, Ms. B had called to tell me Sam was being loaded into the ambulance and he would be taken to a nearby hospital. She said he could tell the EMT's where he lived, but he didn't remember talking to me just 20 minutes prior. This concerned them.
The hospital he was headed to is about a 1.5-hour drive from our house.
Longest. Drive. Ever.
I asked my future-sister-in-law Sue to ride along with me. Did I mention it was a long drive? With only the knowledge that my kid had been strapped to a backboard and rushed off in an ambulance. Because he fell and hit his head - sans helmet - hard enough to knock himself out.
He was not. wearing. his helmet.
Crap.
Sue and I got checked in, got directions to Sam's room, and I walked in to find him sitting up in the bed watching NCIS on television. He smiled at me. I kissed him. I touched his head. I stared at him. He giggled. "What?" And he kept giggling, that "I'm a little uncomfortable with all of this and I don't really know what's going on" giggle. If I hadn't been so relieved I probably would have smacked him. There he sat looking like nothing ever happened, save for some dark circles under his eyes, and there I was, heart and mind having gone through the wringer a thousand times on the way there.
He has a concussion. A CT scan came back normal, so he was discharged. Praise God in Heaven. It could have been so much worse.
So tonight I keep vigil, checking on him often. He is released to return to school in the morning if he is up to it. I fear he has a long road ahead as the doctor said the resulting short-term memory loss could last for 4-6 weeks. He must have asked me a dozen times on the way home if I had gotten his bags (I did), and if he would be able to go skiing next week (not likely).
While I drove home, Sam texted back and forth with one of the kids who was skiing with him. He asked his buddy to help him piece things together - how he fell, what he hit, how long he was out. He couldn't (and still can't) remember any of it. The ER nurse said he might never remember. Everything from the time he got on the bus to go skiing until the time he was loaded in the ambulance is gone - *poof* - from his memory.
He read the texts to us. I was immediately sorry he had. It was all I could do not to pull over, jump from the truck and vomit on the roadside. I just kept repeating in my head ... thank you Jesus ... thank you Jesus ... thank you for letting us keep him ... thank you for the friends who were with him ... thank you ... thank you.
And, maybe a little selfishly, I am thankful he doesn't remember the trauma.
I'm sure Sam will want to go to school if he's not too sore; he wants to see his buddies and hear everyone's version of what happened. I plan to go with him to explain to his teachers the whole memory-loss thing.
Hopefully while I'm there I'll have a chance to hug a few kids and tell them "thank you" for getting Sam the help he needed. They may never understand how grateful I am.
But it wasn't a dream. No, rather it was that nightmare of a phone call every parent dreads receiving: "The ambulance is on its way. We need your permission to send your child to the hospital for treatment."
It was Wednesday. Wednesday is Ski Club day. Sam wouldn't be home until late, so Rachel and I took the opportunity to have a little date night. We went for pizza - her choice - and then we needed to do a little shopping for a few things to finish a school project. As I parked the truck at our final stop I saw my cell phone glowing in my purse.
Who's calling? Nobody ever calls me.
As I grabbed the phone to answer, the screen went dark. Missed it. I checked my missed calls - there were four of them. Steve, my brother, a number I didn't recognize, and then Steve again. Oh hell. My brother rarely calls me. I thought something happened to Steve. He's in Pennsylvania. How the heck could I get to Pennsylvania fast enough?
I dialed Steve's number. "I just got off the phone with Ski Patrol," he said.
My heart stopped.
In my head: Oh God. Please tell me Sam was wearing his helmet.
I don't know what I actually said. It's all a blur now. I do know I had Steve on speaker phone, and as he told me Sam had fallen and hit his head and been knocked unconscious I heard Rachel gasp and then start to cry in the seat next to me. They were waiting for EMS, he told me, and I needed to call Ms. B, the ski club advisor, so someone could tell me where to go.
By the time I got off the phone with Steve I had a voicemail from Ms. B. I spoke with her, then she handed the phone to Sam and I tried my best to console him. He was scared and didn't know what had happened. It felt like someone was ripping my heart right out of my chest - my firstborn hurt, confused and crying on the other end of the line, my baby sitting next to me crying, worried about her big brother.
I spoke with the gentleman from ski patrol. Sam was ok at that moment, he said, but the ambulance should be there any minute and they might want to take him to the hospital as a precaution. I asked him to call me as soon as they knew more, gave my consent to follow whatever procedure the EMT's felt necessary, and I would drive to get Sam wherever I needed to. I hightailed it home to drop Rachel off with my in-laws and wait for the call.
By the time I got home, Ms. B had called to tell me Sam was being loaded into the ambulance and he would be taken to a nearby hospital. She said he could tell the EMT's where he lived, but he didn't remember talking to me just 20 minutes prior. This concerned them.
The hospital he was headed to is about a 1.5-hour drive from our house.
Longest. Drive. Ever.
I asked my future-sister-in-law Sue to ride along with me. Did I mention it was a long drive? With only the knowledge that my kid had been strapped to a backboard and rushed off in an ambulance. Because he fell and hit his head - sans helmet - hard enough to knock himself out.
He was not. wearing. his helmet.
Crap.
Sue and I got checked in, got directions to Sam's room, and I walked in to find him sitting up in the bed watching NCIS on television. He smiled at me. I kissed him. I touched his head. I stared at him. He giggled. "What?" And he kept giggling, that "I'm a little uncomfortable with all of this and I don't really know what's going on" giggle. If I hadn't been so relieved I probably would have smacked him. There he sat looking like nothing ever happened, save for some dark circles under his eyes, and there I was, heart and mind having gone through the wringer a thousand times on the way there.
He has a concussion. A CT scan came back normal, so he was discharged. Praise God in Heaven. It could have been so much worse.
So tonight I keep vigil, checking on him often. He is released to return to school in the morning if he is up to it. I fear he has a long road ahead as the doctor said the resulting short-term memory loss could last for 4-6 weeks. He must have asked me a dozen times on the way home if I had gotten his bags (I did), and if he would be able to go skiing next week (not likely).
While I drove home, Sam texted back and forth with one of the kids who was skiing with him. He asked his buddy to help him piece things together - how he fell, what he hit, how long he was out. He couldn't (and still can't) remember any of it. The ER nurse said he might never remember. Everything from the time he got on the bus to go skiing until the time he was loaded in the ambulance is gone - *poof* - from his memory.
He read the texts to us. I was immediately sorry he had. It was all I could do not to pull over, jump from the truck and vomit on the roadside. I just kept repeating in my head ... thank you Jesus ... thank you Jesus ... thank you for letting us keep him ... thank you for the friends who were with him ... thank you ... thank you.
And, maybe a little selfishly, I am thankful he doesn't remember the trauma.
I'm sure Sam will want to go to school if he's not too sore; he wants to see his buddies and hear everyone's version of what happened. I plan to go with him to explain to his teachers the whole memory-loss thing.
Hopefully while I'm there I'll have a chance to hug a few kids and tell them "thank you" for getting Sam the help he needed. They may never understand how grateful I am.
Monday, January 16, 2012
The story of Samuel.
Both of our children have Biblical names.
That's not why we chose their names. I wish I could tell them we pored over scripture and picked names of people who were humble, brave disciples. Nope. Just happy coincidence.
But as our kids have grown I have taken an interest in the stories of the people their names represent in the Bible. Particularly Sam, because a certain section of verse makes me chuckle ... and ponder a little bit ... when I read it.
This section was one of our lessons in church on Sunday: 1 Samuel 3:1-20
I'll give you the gist of it here in my own words. Basically, God called to Samuel three times, and three times Samuel did not recognize the voice of the Lord (because he didn't yet know Him). Eli finally told Samuel that when he heard the Lord calling again he should say, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." The Lord told Samuel of his plans to lay the smackdown on Eli and his family, and then at Eli's insistence Samuel repeated the information to him.
I chuckle because I can almost feel the confusion of poor Samuel who heard a voice and responded to Eli who then told him he hadn't called and Samuel should go back and lie down. Three times! I imagine my Sammy rolling his eyes and turning on the ball of his foot and thinking how ridiculous this all is. I see it as our son makes his way through Confirmation classes at church, picking through scripture, asking questions, telling me what he has learned (only when I prod him), and learning to recognize God's voice in his own teenage, whirlwind, I'd-rather-go-skiing-with-my-friends kind of world.
Is my son hearing God's call? Is he responding? Will he affirm his faith when Confirmation Day comes? I hope so. I do want for Sam to have a personal relationship with Christ. I pray that through his own actions this world will recognize him as a believer. Even if instead of singing hymns after he takes communion he proceeds to whisper to me that the wafer and wine aren't very tasty and he'd really like to go out for breakfast.
That's not why we chose their names. I wish I could tell them we pored over scripture and picked names of people who were humble, brave disciples. Nope. Just happy coincidence.
But as our kids have grown I have taken an interest in the stories of the people their names represent in the Bible. Particularly Sam, because a certain section of verse makes me chuckle ... and ponder a little bit ... when I read it.
This section was one of our lessons in church on Sunday: 1 Samuel 3:1-20
I'll give you the gist of it here in my own words. Basically, God called to Samuel three times, and three times Samuel did not recognize the voice of the Lord (because he didn't yet know Him). Eli finally told Samuel that when he heard the Lord calling again he should say, "Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening." The Lord told Samuel of his plans to lay the smackdown on Eli and his family, and then at Eli's insistence Samuel repeated the information to him.
"The LORD was with Samuel as he grew up, and he let none of Samuel’s words fall to the ground. And all Israel from Dan to Beersheba recognized that Samuel was attested as a prophet of the LORD." (v. 19-20)
I chuckle because I can almost feel the confusion of poor Samuel who heard a voice and responded to Eli who then told him he hadn't called and Samuel should go back and lie down. Three times! I imagine my Sammy rolling his eyes and turning on the ball of his foot and thinking how ridiculous this all is. I see it as our son makes his way through Confirmation classes at church, picking through scripture, asking questions, telling me what he has learned (only when I prod him), and learning to recognize God's voice in his own teenage, whirlwind, I'd-rather-go-skiing-with-my-friends kind of world.
Is my son hearing God's call? Is he responding? Will he affirm his faith when Confirmation Day comes? I hope so. I do want for Sam to have a personal relationship with Christ. I pray that through his own actions this world will recognize him as a believer. Even if instead of singing hymns after he takes communion he proceeds to whisper to me that the wafer and wine aren't very tasty and he'd really like to go out for breakfast.
Wednesday, January 4, 2012
A prayer for today.
Heavenly Father, every day (OK, almost every day) when I put my children on the school bus I pray you will watch over them and keep them safe in Your loving embrace. I pray Sam and Rachel will be guided to make good decisions and glorify Your name with their actions, and that they would love You and seek to please You.
Today I pray extra fervently (is that even a word? How about "I pray really really hard?") for Your protection over my elder child, as he will be hitting the slopes this afternoon with the ski club. This is his second time skiing, but the first time he'll do it surrounded by a bunch of goony teenage guys. And Lord, we know how teenage boys can be. I pray he wears his helmet like he promised he would, that he doesn't get too cocky about his abilities, that he keeps his body intact and unbroken, and most of all that he have fun ... for himself, with his friends, away from my ever-watchful eyes. Lord, if it is Your Will, may Sam develop a love for this sport that will encourage him to do all the right things so he is allowed to continue to participate.
Please give me the strength, dear God, to let go just a little bit, let the boy seek his passion, prove himself to be responsible and trustworthy, and begin to find his place in this world. Help me to turn angst over possible future hurts to celebration over new discoveries and endless possibilities.
And did I mention I'd like You to bring him back to me in one piece?
Father, I also pray today that Steve has a good first day on the new job. I'm sure it will be filled with paperwork and instruction and drug testing and all that preliminary stuff, but as the ball begins to roll I ask You to stoke that fire within my husband that keeps him excited about what he does. I thank You for the gift of Steven, Lord. I thank You for placing him in my life. I thank You for getting him through yesterday's travels safely, and I ask You to continue to watch over him.
Thank You for the crunchy snow outside that sparkles in the light of the front porch.
Thank You for the one-on-one time I will have with Rachel this evening.
Thank You for a warm home, pancakes for breakfast, a truck that started right up this morning, four-legged creatures to keep me company today, and a body with working arms and legs and heart and brain that is capable of so much.
And thank You for coffee.
Amen.
Today I pray extra fervently (is that even a word? How about "I pray really really hard?") for Your protection over my elder child, as he will be hitting the slopes this afternoon with the ski club. This is his second time skiing, but the first time he'll do it surrounded by a bunch of goony teenage guys. And Lord, we know how teenage boys can be. I pray he wears his helmet like he promised he would, that he doesn't get too cocky about his abilities, that he keeps his body intact and unbroken, and most of all that he have fun ... for himself, with his friends, away from my ever-watchful eyes. Lord, if it is Your Will, may Sam develop a love for this sport that will encourage him to do all the right things so he is allowed to continue to participate.
Please give me the strength, dear God, to let go just a little bit, let the boy seek his passion, prove himself to be responsible and trustworthy, and begin to find his place in this world. Help me to turn angst over possible future hurts to celebration over new discoveries and endless possibilities.
And did I mention I'd like You to bring him back to me in one piece?
Father, I also pray today that Steve has a good first day on the new job. I'm sure it will be filled with paperwork and instruction and drug testing and all that preliminary stuff, but as the ball begins to roll I ask You to stoke that fire within my husband that keeps him excited about what he does. I thank You for the gift of Steven, Lord. I thank You for placing him in my life. I thank You for getting him through yesterday's travels safely, and I ask You to continue to watch over him.
Thank You for the crunchy snow outside that sparkles in the light of the front porch.
Thank You for the one-on-one time I will have with Rachel this evening.
Thank You for a warm home, pancakes for breakfast, a truck that started right up this morning, four-legged creatures to keep me company today, and a body with working arms and legs and heart and brain that is capable of so much.
And thank You for coffee.
Amen.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Happy Birthday, Sammy!
Today our boy turns 13. As I write I have cinnamon rolls baking in the oven for him while he is out hunting with his daddy. Later we'll have a party at the bowling alley, complete with the double-layer rainbow confetti cake he requested and several of his friends.
Thirteen is a big one, isn't it? Sam is becoming a young man right before our eyes. Where we once had a teeny five-pound baby there is now an adult-size being living among us. It sure does give me pause.
There is so much I could say about Sam. We have had our share of struggles, he and I. But for as much as he resisted anyone's attempts to soften him up with hugs and kisses and love beyond measure over the years, he has transformed into one of the most amazing, compassionate and loving children I know.
I am particularly touched by Sam's gift with younger children. He has this comfortable way of engaging kids that makes me believe teaching or a similar occupation may be his calling.
I am proud of this young man and who he is becoming. Even if I still call him my baby boy, I know day by day he is gaining independence and establishing his own place in this world. It will be a while yet before he faces it on his own, but I know after one more year of middle school, once he hits high school it will be over in the blink of an eye. That's why I'm taking time to enjoy it - and him - while I can.
Happy birthday, sweet boy. Today is your day. We love you.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Today is a big day.
Sam's 13th birthday is approaching. It has caused me to do a lot of thinking about this boy and how he has grown and changed over the past few years. Shoot ... one can hardly call him a "boy" anymore; he is at least as tall as anyone else in the family and taller than several. But it's not just his stature. He is becoming more thoughtful and responsible every day.
It is with that in mind that I hesitated only a little when he asked me if he could sit by himself when he went out to hunt this morning. It's opening day of the firearm deer season (the kids have the day off school for it), and for a mama like me the thought of sending her firstborn out into the woods before dawn ... and carrying a gun ... can be a little unsettling. Because accidents happen. And he really is just a kid, isn't he? That means above all it is my responsibility to keep him safe.
The older he gets the harder it is to make those decisions that could mean the difference between keeping Sam tucked inside this safe little bubble at home or allowing him to go out into the world (or the woods, as it were) and face the potential to be hurt - physically or emotionally - and to learn some tough life lessons. Maybe to make some big decisions on his own. And hopefully, to learn what success feels like.
He is not alone today. We are fortunate to have within our extended family some wonderful men who have taken Sam under their wings while his dad is working so far away. We are also fortunate that deer camp is a big old school house down the road within walking distance from home. Sam has been there since Saturday afternoon - I literally have not seen him for more than a few minutes at a time. I hear about what he's doing in bits and pieces - hunting with his bow (archery season precedes firearm season) the last few days, going out with the uncles to move trail cameras and check bait piles and tidy up their stands, I guess. And when he came to the house to get his gun last night and to check with me that he could sit by himself today, he was practically glowing. When I told him he could as long as the uncles were nearby, he came to me and hugged me and said, "I love you, mom."
I'll take it.
I have not seen that boy so happy in quite a while. He is in his element. He's with the guys, away from mom. He is free to be who he wants to be (within reason) and to experience some independence.
It's a big day for both of us.
It is with that in mind that I hesitated only a little when he asked me if he could sit by himself when he went out to hunt this morning. It's opening day of the firearm deer season (the kids have the day off school for it), and for a mama like me the thought of sending her firstborn out into the woods before dawn ... and carrying a gun ... can be a little unsettling. Because accidents happen. And he really is just a kid, isn't he? That means above all it is my responsibility to keep him safe.
The older he gets the harder it is to make those decisions that could mean the difference between keeping Sam tucked inside this safe little bubble at home or allowing him to go out into the world (or the woods, as it were) and face the potential to be hurt - physically or emotionally - and to learn some tough life lessons. Maybe to make some big decisions on his own. And hopefully, to learn what success feels like.
He is not alone today. We are fortunate to have within our extended family some wonderful men who have taken Sam under their wings while his dad is working so far away. We are also fortunate that deer camp is a big old school house down the road within walking distance from home. Sam has been there since Saturday afternoon - I literally have not seen him for more than a few minutes at a time. I hear about what he's doing in bits and pieces - hunting with his bow (archery season precedes firearm season) the last few days, going out with the uncles to move trail cameras and check bait piles and tidy up their stands, I guess. And when he came to the house to get his gun last night and to check with me that he could sit by himself today, he was practically glowing. When I told him he could as long as the uncles were nearby, he came to me and hugged me and said, "I love you, mom."
I'll take it.
I have not seen that boy so happy in quite a while. He is in his element. He's with the guys, away from mom. He is free to be who he wants to be (within reason) and to experience some independence.
It's a big day for both of us.
Monday, September 26, 2011
I love my smart phone.
This past weekend there was a special youth hunt in Michigan.
No, we weren't huntin' for yoots. We were lettin' da yoots have a go at hunting deer with their weapon of choice before the archery season opens to every Tom, Dick and Harry on October 1.
Since Steve is the mighty hunter in our household, and it was Sam who was excited about going hunting over the weekend, Steve made arrangements to take a quick trip home to take his boy out. That's the good news. The bummer of it was a) it was a very quick trip, and b) Sam did not bag a deer while Steve was here.
What does any of this have to do with my phone? Well I'm gonna' tell you.
Steve left to return to work Sunday afternoon. Sam knew he had one more opportunity to hunt Sunday evening ... he just needed an adult to accompany him. Despite my every protest to his begging and pleading, that adult turned out to be me. I figured I could enjoy a bit of nature and spend some quality quiet time with my first-born. I took my phone along to keep track of the time and, if I got really bored, to play a few games to pass the time.
Sam and I settled in. We shared some candy corn and a few laughs while we waited for dusk. And I groaned to my procrastinating self that I really should have been at the house typing out my newspaper column.
Then I remembered I have an option for creating text documents on my phone. Yes, it requires plunking the words out with my thumbs on the tiny keyboard, but at least I could have my column mostly written when we got back to the house. So there I sat, "tick tick tick tick tick tick ticking" away while Sam kept a lookout for deer.
(Insert "whodathunkit" comment re: technology here.)
When I finally decided I had a good-enough start on my writing, I put my phone away.
Then I pulled it out a few minutes later to snap a random photo of Sam.
Then after we saw two does running full speed through the field - a sign that things were going to get exciting - I sent Steve a text telling him how we were doing.
Sam asked if I would use my phone to take a video of him if he got a chance to shoot something. I promised I would do my best. I suggested we have some fun and make one of those cheesy hunting videos where the subjects do that whisper-yell thing back and forth, all hyped up just to be in the out-of-doors ... maybe some Auzzie accents or somethin'. The look I got was similar to the one in that photo above. Buzzkill.
Fast forward about 2.5 hours ...
It's almost dark. I stand up to stretch. We had seen four or five deer. I'm about to suggest we call it a night when we see another deer come barreling into the clearing. It stops in a stand of weeds and Sam finds it with his scope. It turns and starts walking back toward us and Sam sees that it's a buck. I grab my phone/camera and slide it to Video.
Sam shot. The deer ran. My heart sank.
But I did get it on video, which helped tremendously as we tried to figure out exactly where the deer was when Sam shot and which direction he ran.
It got dark and I used my phone as a flashlight. Yes, there's an app for that.
And when we found the deer - mercifully, not far away - I took pictures with my phone.
It's a nice 4-point, he shot it with a .308, and I wouldn't even guess at the distance. I can tell you it was far enough that I wouldn't have been confident taking the shot myself, and I'm so proud of Sam for how composed he kept himself the whole time.
So in this case, even though I've struggled at times with paying the fees for a bunch of options I don't really need (and who does, really?), today I am in love with my smart phone. It served as a clock, a word processor, communication device, camera and video camera, flashlight, and a potential source for entertainment, all within a couple of hours.
*LOVE!*
Watching my son have a successful hunt and being there to record it? *Double love!*
No, we weren't huntin' for yoots. We were lettin' da yoots have a go at hunting deer with their weapon of choice before the archery season opens to every Tom, Dick and Harry on October 1.
Since Steve is the mighty hunter in our household, and it was Sam who was excited about going hunting over the weekend, Steve made arrangements to take a quick trip home to take his boy out. That's the good news. The bummer of it was a) it was a very quick trip, and b) Sam did not bag a deer while Steve was here.
What does any of this have to do with my phone? Well I'm gonna' tell you.
Steve left to return to work Sunday afternoon. Sam knew he had one more opportunity to hunt Sunday evening ... he just needed an adult to accompany him. Despite my every protest to his begging and pleading, that adult turned out to be me. I figured I could enjoy a bit of nature and spend some quality quiet time with my first-born. I took my phone along to keep track of the time and, if I got really bored, to play a few games to pass the time.
Sam and I settled in. We shared some candy corn and a few laughs while we waited for dusk. And I groaned to my procrastinating self that I really should have been at the house typing out my newspaper column.
Then I remembered I have an option for creating text documents on my phone. Yes, it requires plunking the words out with my thumbs on the tiny keyboard, but at least I could have my column mostly written when we got back to the house. So there I sat, "tick tick tick tick tick tick ticking" away while Sam kept a lookout for deer.
(Insert "whodathunkit" comment re: technology here.)
When I finally decided I had a good-enough start on my writing, I put my phone away.
Then I pulled it out a few minutes later to snap a random photo of Sam.
Sam asked if I would use my phone to take a video of him if he got a chance to shoot something. I promised I would do my best. I suggested we have some fun and make one of those cheesy hunting videos where the subjects do that whisper-yell thing back and forth, all hyped up just to be in the out-of-doors ... maybe some Auzzie accents or somethin'. The look I got was similar to the one in that photo above. Buzzkill.
Fast forward about 2.5 hours ...
It's almost dark. I stand up to stretch. We had seen four or five deer. I'm about to suggest we call it a night when we see another deer come barreling into the clearing. It stops in a stand of weeds and Sam finds it with his scope. It turns and starts walking back toward us and Sam sees that it's a buck. I grab my phone/camera and slide it to Video.
Sam shot. The deer ran. My heart sank.
But I did get it on video, which helped tremendously as we tried to figure out exactly where the deer was when Sam shot and which direction he ran.
It got dark and I used my phone as a flashlight. Yes, there's an app for that.
And when we found the deer - mercifully, not far away - I took pictures with my phone.
It's a nice 4-point, he shot it with a .308, and I wouldn't even guess at the distance. I can tell you it was far enough that I wouldn't have been confident taking the shot myself, and I'm so proud of Sam for how composed he kept himself the whole time.
So in this case, even though I've struggled at times with paying the fees for a bunch of options I don't really need (and who does, really?), today I am in love with my smart phone. It served as a clock, a word processor, communication device, camera and video camera, flashlight, and a potential source for entertainment, all within a couple of hours.
*LOVE!*
Watching my son have a successful hunt and being there to record it? *Double love!*
Friday, November 19, 2010
Happy birthday, buddy.
Today provides all the proof I need that Steve and I are good parents: we let Sam live to see his 12th birthday.
I'm only partially kidding.
Despite Sam's tendency to push us to our limits, stretch our resources, and make us question our sanity on a regular basis, our son really is a gift. Literally, his name means "asked of God" or "heard by God." I feel so privileged to have been chosen as his mother, and I can't imagine life without him.
Who else would make me laugh like Sam does? Who else would force me to be so creative? Without Sam, how on earth could I have learned how every single emotion really feels, and how it feels to experience all of them in a 24-hour period?
Sam is a young man of many talents. He is an artist - his tools a #2 pencil and a piece of paper. He is incredibly curious and will satisfy that curiosity by deconstructing and reconstructing things. I love that he has rhythm and a great singing voice, though he is usually too shy to share it.
Sam is adventurous. He's a daredevil. He is always trying new tricks on his bicycle, and if you catch him on the right day he will take at least one bite of any new food you put in front of him. He figured out he likes mushrooms and black olives on his pizza (he is my son, after all). He likes to dip broccoli in KFC gravy. He also has a wicked sweet tooth.
He adores his daddy. And like Steve, Sam plays his cards close to the vest. Perish the thought that anyone would know he is excited or eager about anything.
Incidentally, I cherish the moments I see that he clearly is excited because I just want him to be happy. I want him to be a good citizen, a productive member of society, God-loving-and-fearing, but above all, happy.
I'm only partially kidding.
Despite Sam's tendency to push us to our limits, stretch our resources, and make us question our sanity on a regular basis, our son really is a gift. Literally, his name means "asked of God" or "heard by God." I feel so privileged to have been chosen as his mother, and I can't imagine life without him.
The day we said goodbye to our beloved Razi.
Sam made me promise to bring her collar home.
Who else would make me laugh like Sam does? Who else would force me to be so creative? Without Sam, how on earth could I have learned how every single emotion really feels, and how it feels to experience all of them in a 24-hour period?
Sam is a young man of many talents. He is an artist - his tools a #2 pencil and a piece of paper. He is incredibly curious and will satisfy that curiosity by deconstructing and reconstructing things. I love that he has rhythm and a great singing voice, though he is usually too shy to share it.
Sam is adventurous. He's a daredevil. He is always trying new tricks on his bicycle, and if you catch him on the right day he will take at least one bite of any new food you put in front of him. He figured out he likes mushrooms and black olives on his pizza (he is my son, after all). He likes to dip broccoli in KFC gravy. He also has a wicked sweet tooth.
He adores his daddy. And like Steve, Sam plays his cards close to the vest. Perish the thought that anyone would know he is excited or eager about anything.
At the races.
Incidentally, I cherish the moments I see that he clearly is excited because I just want him to be happy. I want him to be a good citizen, a productive member of society, God-loving-and-fearing, but above all, happy.
Boy, don't you worry you'll find yourself
Follow your heart and nothing else
And you can do this, oh baby if you try
All that I want for you my son is to be satisfied
And be a simple kind of man
Be something you love and understand
Baby, be a simple kind of man
Oh, won't you do this for me, son, if you can?
And you can do this, oh baby if you try
All that I want for you my son is to be satisfied
And be a simple kind of man
Be something you love and understand
Baby, be a simple kind of man
Oh, won't you do this for me, son, if you can?
~ Lynyrd Skynyrd
We love ya, kiddo - unconditionally. Happy birthday.
Friday, November 12, 2010
Feels like Saturday.
The kids are off school today and Rachel stayed the night at my parents' house last night. Sam and I slept in this morning (well, I did anyway). It was so nice to not have to wake up to the alarm clock and to have a quiet, leisurely morning.
It would have been nicer if my body wasn't programmed to wake up at 6 a.m., but I'm not complaining. On the way back from the bathroom I scooped up Patch the kitty and tried to convince him he wanted to snuggle with me in my nice, warm bed. He wasn't interested. He wanted to either eat my toes or gallop through the house chasing imaginary mice. He's becoming quite the cutie.
Eventually he wore himself out and curled up with Sam on the couch to watch some cartoons.
We have a long weekend ahead. Today, whenever we get around to it, we have our usual Friday banking and errands, tomorrow Sam has confirmation class at church, and right after that we're heading out to spend the rest of the weekend with daddy (the kids are also off school on Monday). Steve is staying in a hotel with a pool and the kids are excited about that. He has Sunday off work so it will be nice to spend a full day just focused on the four of us. We'll probably do a little shopping, too, since Sam's birthday is right around the corner. I'm excited about having some family time, even if it's brief.
Enjoy your weekend.
It would have been nicer if my body wasn't programmed to wake up at 6 a.m., but I'm not complaining. On the way back from the bathroom I scooped up Patch the kitty and tried to convince him he wanted to snuggle with me in my nice, warm bed. He wasn't interested. He wanted to either eat my toes or gallop through the house chasing imaginary mice. He's becoming quite the cutie.
Eventually he wore himself out and curled up with Sam on the couch to watch some cartoons.
 |
| They look pretty comfy, eh? |
We have a long weekend ahead. Today, whenever we get around to it, we have our usual Friday banking and errands, tomorrow Sam has confirmation class at church, and right after that we're heading out to spend the rest of the weekend with daddy (the kids are also off school on Monday). Steve is staying in a hotel with a pool and the kids are excited about that. He has Sunday off work so it will be nice to spend a full day just focused on the four of us. We'll probably do a little shopping, too, since Sam's birthday is right around the corner. I'm excited about having some family time, even if it's brief.
Enjoy your weekend.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Beyond frustrated.
Sam has a little problem with authority. Always has. He used to take it out mostly on me and Steve, but as he has gotten older he has begun to spread the love a little more - to his teachers, his grandparents, anyone who would have the audacity to give him orders, or even politely ask him to do something.
He will be 12 years old in a few weeks. I know some of this behavior is typical of a preteen, but when we have struggled with him all his life it's hard to know what is "normal" and what isn't. Either way, there are some things that are just plain unacceptable. Unacceptable in our home, unacceptable at school or in society.
As an added bonus, Sam's moods are unpredictable. One minute he could be quietly working on a project with his sister, all lovey-dovey, and the next he is hollering about how unfair it is that emptying the dishwasher is on his chore list again.
He is also a negotiator. Read: manipulator. He's always trying to make deals with anyone who will listen. "I'll let you have my iPod for two days if you take the dog out for me" was a common one until Rachel finally realized that he will renege every time. He'll come up with some loophole like "well I didn't say when I'd let you have my iPod" and he will insist he hasn't truly defaulted on his end of the bargain, which of course sends Rachel into a tailspin. These kinds of things happen every day in our house. It's like a power play for Sam, a way to feel in control; he thinks life is so unfair and everyone is out to disappoint him, so he's going to get revenge by disappointing someone else.
As a parent, this is exhausting. We are always on guard, always trying to predict his next move, always feeling there must have been something we failed at to have caused him to be this way. OK, well that last one is mostly me, but still. I get frustrated because while Steve is working away from home he's not here to give Sam the evil eye or back me up on discipline or be a good male role model for Sam. Steve gets frustrated because ... well ... for the same reasons. He gets the phone calls from me saying "I've handled it as well as I know how, now what?"
I hate that it is this way, but when things appear to be going really good with Sam I start to wonder what's up. I try to be an optimist and not assume all the good is about to come crashing down, but I've been disappointed so many times I just throw up my hands in defeat when it finally happens. Because it will happen, and it did happen last night.
After an evening full of struggles over chores and homework and all the usual suspects, I finally tucked the kids into bed and sat down to get lost in some mindless TV. About 15 minutes later Sam calls me from his room. He needs me to sign something, he says.
Huh?
He came out from his room and brought me a packet of papers containing details about how he had been disciplined at school for disrespecting and defying two of his teachers, not doing his work, and disrupting class. He would not be allowed back to his classes until he brought this packet back to school, signed by a parent.
Really.
I might as well start beating my head against a wall. I swear it would accomplish more than trying to get this kid to make good choices.
We had a chat. He shed some tears. I sent him back to bed with the promise that I would be talking to his dad and together we would devise a plan to make Sam's life a living hell. (I'm kidding! Sort of.) I signed the papers and left them on the table for him to take back to school. I even put a check for his lunch money right on top of the pile so he wouldn't forget them. I set it all at his place at the table.
He took the check.
He did not take the papers.
Hear that? It's me beating my head against a wall.
More tomorrow ...
He will be 12 years old in a few weeks. I know some of this behavior is typical of a preteen, but when we have struggled with him all his life it's hard to know what is "normal" and what isn't. Either way, there are some things that are just plain unacceptable. Unacceptable in our home, unacceptable at school or in society.
As an added bonus, Sam's moods are unpredictable. One minute he could be quietly working on a project with his sister, all lovey-dovey, and the next he is hollering about how unfair it is that emptying the dishwasher is on his chore list again.
He is also a negotiator. Read: manipulator. He's always trying to make deals with anyone who will listen. "I'll let you have my iPod for two days if you take the dog out for me" was a common one until Rachel finally realized that he will renege every time. He'll come up with some loophole like "well I didn't say when I'd let you have my iPod" and he will insist he hasn't truly defaulted on his end of the bargain, which of course sends Rachel into a tailspin. These kinds of things happen every day in our house. It's like a power play for Sam, a way to feel in control; he thinks life is so unfair and everyone is out to disappoint him, so he's going to get revenge by disappointing someone else.
As a parent, this is exhausting. We are always on guard, always trying to predict his next move, always feeling there must have been something we failed at to have caused him to be this way. OK, well that last one is mostly me, but still. I get frustrated because while Steve is working away from home he's not here to give Sam the evil eye or back me up on discipline or be a good male role model for Sam. Steve gets frustrated because ... well ... for the same reasons. He gets the phone calls from me saying "I've handled it as well as I know how, now what?"
I hate that it is this way, but when things appear to be going really good with Sam I start to wonder what's up. I try to be an optimist and not assume all the good is about to come crashing down, but I've been disappointed so many times I just throw up my hands in defeat when it finally happens. Because it will happen, and it did happen last night.
After an evening full of struggles over chores and homework and all the usual suspects, I finally tucked the kids into bed and sat down to get lost in some mindless TV. About 15 minutes later Sam calls me from his room. He needs me to sign something, he says.
Huh?
He came out from his room and brought me a packet of papers containing details about how he had been disciplined at school for disrespecting and defying two of his teachers, not doing his work, and disrupting class. He would not be allowed back to his classes until he brought this packet back to school, signed by a parent.
Really.
I might as well start beating my head against a wall. I swear it would accomplish more than trying to get this kid to make good choices.
We had a chat. He shed some tears. I sent him back to bed with the promise that I would be talking to his dad and together we would devise a plan to make Sam's life a living hell. (I'm kidding! Sort of.) I signed the papers and left them on the table for him to take back to school. I even put a check for his lunch money right on top of the pile so he wouldn't forget them. I set it all at his place at the table.
He took the check.
He did not take the papers.
Hear that? It's me beating my head against a wall.
More tomorrow ...
Sunday, July 11, 2010
It was an eleventh hour decision.
Even after much coaxing and encouraging and a tour of the woodsy, lakeside spread with its cabins and arts & crafts building and basketball courts and archery area, our 11-yr-old son was left unimpressed and something less than wishy-washy about going to summer camp.
Until a few days ago. Then he was all gung-ho about it and wondering when he would leave.
I said no. I told him there is some amount of preparation that needs to be done when a family sends a child off to summer camp, and those preparations could not be done in a matter of three days. He had plenty of time to make a decision when we discussed it three weeks ago. He had said he wasn't really interested, so the subject was dropped. This would become a teachable moment about planning and deadlines and decision making.
At least I thought so.
But what do I know?
The kid mentioned his plight to his uncle who happens to have a friend who happens to manage a nearby co-ed youth camp with his wife. The missus says, as luck would have it, there is plenty of room for another kiddo. The more the merrier.
So Sam, who has been drowning in a sea of estrogen lately, has been rescued. He has been needing some boy time, and that's a major reason why I changed my mind. Also, I went to camp myself as a child and I had so much fun and made such great memories, I couldn't deny my son of that opportunity.
I dropped Sam off at camp this afternoon. He will be there until Saturday morning.
Once we got his gear to his cabin it took him about 30 seconds to give me that look that says "OK I'm fine. Please leave." He wouldn't even let me take a picture of him. I suppose I could have taken one when Sam was invited to join in on a heated game of Stump Ball, but I decided that would be a good time for me to make my exit. I was so glad he recognized two friends from school and was quickly accepted into the group.
As I walked back to the truck alone, I turned to look back at the gathering of kids. This is my only son's first experience at summer camp and I wanted this moment to be imprinted on my mind. Sam was already into the game and he had a big ol' grin on his face. I could see this, even though Sam wasn't watching me leave and wouldn't have noticed if I had stopped to wave (I didn't) or was crying my eyes out (I wasn't) or ran to get out of there as fast as I could (not a chance).
As far as he was concerned I was already gone. I'm OK with that. I really am. A moment like that sure makes a mama have a very reflective day, though.
My little boy is growing up. Does it hurt? Nah. But it doesn't mean I don't already miss him.
Until a few days ago. Then he was all gung-ho about it and wondering when he would leave.
I said no. I told him there is some amount of preparation that needs to be done when a family sends a child off to summer camp, and those preparations could not be done in a matter of three days. He had plenty of time to make a decision when we discussed it three weeks ago. He had said he wasn't really interested, so the subject was dropped. This would become a teachable moment about planning and deadlines and decision making.
At least I thought so.
But what do I know?
The kid mentioned his plight to his uncle who happens to have a friend who happens to manage a nearby co-ed youth camp with his wife. The missus says, as luck would have it, there is plenty of room for another kiddo. The more the merrier.
So Sam, who has been drowning in a sea of estrogen lately, has been rescued. He has been needing some boy time, and that's a major reason why I changed my mind. Also, I went to camp myself as a child and I had so much fun and made such great memories, I couldn't deny my son of that opportunity.
I dropped Sam off at camp this afternoon. He will be there until Saturday morning.
Once we got his gear to his cabin it took him about 30 seconds to give me that look that says "OK I'm fine. Please leave." He wouldn't even let me take a picture of him. I suppose I could have taken one when Sam was invited to join in on a heated game of Stump Ball, but I decided that would be a good time for me to make my exit. I was so glad he recognized two friends from school and was quickly accepted into the group.
As I walked back to the truck alone, I turned to look back at the gathering of kids. This is my only son's first experience at summer camp and I wanted this moment to be imprinted on my mind. Sam was already into the game and he had a big ol' grin on his face. I could see this, even though Sam wasn't watching me leave and wouldn't have noticed if I had stopped to wave (I didn't) or was crying my eyes out (I wasn't) or ran to get out of there as fast as I could (not a chance).
As far as he was concerned I was already gone. I'm OK with that. I really am. A moment like that sure makes a mama have a very reflective day, though.
My little boy is growing up. Does it hurt? Nah. But it doesn't mean I don't already miss him.
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Summer school.
It's not so bad, apparently.
In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if Sam actually ... *gasp!* ... enjoys going to summer school. He gets out of bed relatively happy in the mornings and every day when I pick him up from school he seems to be in a pretty good mood.
I feel like I'm holding my breath. This isn't what I expected at all. I was certain he would fight me tooth and nail every day. Oh, he has made little comments about not being able to do such-and-such during the day because he has to go to summer school (Eeyore voice, anyone?) but I have a feeling he appreciates the schedule and knowing what to expect out of each day.
One more week.
Then it will be the 4th of July.
Then we'll have nothing to do but chill out for the rest of the summer.
And then in the fall? Middle school. Ack! I'm not going to think about that right now.
In fact, I'm beginning to wonder if Sam actually ... *gasp!* ... enjoys going to summer school. He gets out of bed relatively happy in the mornings and every day when I pick him up from school he seems to be in a pretty good mood.
I feel like I'm holding my breath. This isn't what I expected at all. I was certain he would fight me tooth and nail every day. Oh, he has made little comments about not being able to do such-and-such during the day because he has to go to summer school (Eeyore voice, anyone?) but I have a feeling he appreciates the schedule and knowing what to expect out of each day.
One more week.
Then it will be the 4th of July.
Then we'll have nothing to do but chill out for the rest of the summer.
And then in the fall? Middle school. Ack! I'm not going to think about that right now.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without.
I love that Depression-era mantra. It has become my go-to phrase when I start to feel like it's time to upgrade or replace something around the house. I always ask myself whether that thing really needs to be upgraded or replaced, or if I'm just getting bored looking at it. Perhaps I think it will be easier to use a newer one with more options, or I'm just plain tired of that missing button or broken handle, even though those things don't affect the item's usefulness.
Generally I find that I can get by with what we have. Sometimes I can find an acceptable alternative or substitute. But for certain things it's a good idea to just give in and replace them when it becomes obvious they need replacing, like my makeup (which is probably radioactive by now, and that's just unhealthy), or my socks (some of which are so threadbare they are beyond darning).
Or my son's shoes.
Generally I find that I can get by with what we have. Sometimes I can find an acceptable alternative or substitute. But for certain things it's a good idea to just give in and replace them when it becomes obvious they need replacing, like my makeup (which is probably radioactive by now, and that's just unhealthy), or my socks (some of which are so threadbare they are beyond darning).
Or my son's shoes.
An excellent example of "wear it out," don't you think? Those are his fingers sticking through the holes. They've been worn out for a while, apparently. He made sure to tell me that repeatedly as we were shopping for new shoes yesterday. Hmph. Well thanks, kid. I guess I just couldn't see your nasty shoes through my crusty old mascara.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
One of those days.
I need someone to tell me I'm doing a great job. But the someone I really want that from is a nine-hour drive away and working his butt off to keep food on our table and clothing on our bodies. So today is one of those days that I suck it up and deal with things the best way I know how.
Parenting alone while Steve is on the road is tough enough. Throw in a kid with ADHD and Oppositional Defiant Disorder and we're talking a whole different ball game.
Most people understand Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder; it's a fairly common diagnosis these days and I will likely write more about how we got to that diagnosis in future posts. Fewer people understand Oppositional Defiant Disorder which renders some techniques for dealing with ADHD useless. With ODD, the ADHD kid - who often has trouble paying attention and disrupts things anyway - then becomes a kid who lives to annoy people and defy authority. Everything has the potential to become an argument. Everything.
The following is an example of a typical (read: many times daily) exchange in our house:
Me: "Please take care of your breakfast dishes."
Sam: "Can I have some more toast first?"
Me: (calmly) "No, you're done. Please take care of your dishes."
Sam: (louder) "I still have to finish my apple juice."
Me: (willing to give a little) "Fine, finish your juice and then take care of your dishes."
Sam: "But why can't I have some more toast?"
Me: (still calm) "Breakfast time is over."
Sam: (perhaps pounding a fist on the table) "But I'm still hungry."
Me: (calmly but firmly) "You ate two pieces of toast, two eggs, and a glass of juice. You're done."
Sam: (still not responding to my request) "Rachel, hurry up. Mom said breakfast is over."
Me: (gently turning his face to look at me) "Don't worry about your sister, just do as you're told."
Sam: (shoving his chair back from the table) "What, so you don't care about her taking forever?"
Me: (borderline yelling) "You focus on you. Now take care of your dishes."
Sam: "Fine!" Dishes slam, feet stomp, chair teeters on two legs.
Me: "Rachel, please take care of your breakfast dishes."
Rachel: "OK"
This is how it goes on a regular basis, starting with getting out of bed in the morning and ending with brushing teeth and going to bed at night. This morning was very typical, except that it was a little more intense than usual. By the time the kids got on the school bus I was exhausted and beyond frustrated.
I have learned to truly enjoy and appreciate the good times with Sam - and there really are many of those, too. When he allows me to love on him and hug and kiss him, I soak it up. When he harnesses his creativity with a really awesome drawing (something he loves to do) that he can't wait to show me, or carves himself a really cool walking stick (which he did over the weekend) I hold those moments in my heart for days like today when I have to dig really deep to find a reason not to throw in the towel and give up.
Our children are gifts from God and I seek His guidance in how to raise them and positively influence their lives. Furthermore, I have always felt that God will not give us any more than we can handle. Apparently He felt Steve and I were a strong enough team to handle this iron-willed boy. On days like today I wonder if I am truly the best mama for the job, but really, who am I to question God's grand plan?
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Trial run.
We survived Week One.
None of us knew we would see Steve again so soon and it was a nice surprise for all of us that he was able to come home for the weekend after only a week away. Now it will be at least three weeks before we have another visit. It feels a bit like we are back at square one, but in a good way. Sort of.
Sam was in quite the jovial mood Saturday evening and when I asked him if he was glad to have his dad home for a couple days he shrugged and said something I found absolutely hysterical: "I don't have the chance to miss him if he doesn't stay gone."
Right. How presumptuous of me.
We are blessed with a child who can be incredibly perplexing one minute and fabulously funny the next.
Tonight, as I picked the leftover meat from the roasted chicken we had for dinner, he sat at the table with me and polished off at least three helpings of steamed cauliflower while presenting to me his theory of why broccoli and cauliflower really aren't all that different.
He ate cauliflower!! A lot of it!
The kid amazes me every single day. Sometimes that's good, sometimes not so much. But at least life is never boring.
Here's to the start of another week. I'm going to do my best to make it a good one. The kids will certainly help make it interesting.
None of us knew we would see Steve again so soon and it was a nice surprise for all of us that he was able to come home for the weekend after only a week away. Now it will be at least three weeks before we have another visit. It feels a bit like we are back at square one, but in a good way. Sort of.
Sam was in quite the jovial mood Saturday evening and when I asked him if he was glad to have his dad home for a couple days he shrugged and said something I found absolutely hysterical: "I don't have the chance to miss him if he doesn't stay gone."
Right. How presumptuous of me.
We are blessed with a child who can be incredibly perplexing one minute and fabulously funny the next.
Tonight, as I picked the leftover meat from the roasted chicken we had for dinner, he sat at the table with me and polished off at least three helpings of steamed cauliflower while presenting to me his theory of why broccoli and cauliflower really aren't all that different.
He ate cauliflower!! A lot of it!
The kid amazes me every single day. Sometimes that's good, sometimes not so much. But at least life is never boring.
Here's to the start of another week. I'm going to do my best to make it a good one. The kids will certainly help make it interesting.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Moving forward.
Today dawned bright and sunny. Beautiful. A perfect day for a road trip.
It was the kind of morning when I feel like God is clearly telling us we are on the right track. He blessed us with blue skies as if to say, "You are taking a leap of faith and making huge sacrifices today, so here's a little reward to keep you going."
By the time we got up and had breakfast we had to hustle a bit to get out the door. I was taking Sam to his Saturday morning bowling league and Steve's plan was to leave for W. Virginia at the same time. We managed to pull it off without a hitch. Steve called tonight to say he had arrived in Morgantown and is checked in at a motel. It was a good day.
Sam asked me today if dad is working "near the mountains." Because, ya' know, I am a huge John Denver fan and every time Steve talks about West Virginia lately I start singing "Country Roads." I remember the days of my childhood when my dad drove us from Michigan to Florida to spend the holidays with our grandparents and how I was so fascinated by the hilly terrain we encountered as we got further south. I can't wait to share that adventure with our kids when we finally get a chance to visit Steve.
Tomorrow begins a new week. It's time to settle into a new groove with new routines and inevitably a new set of challenges. I am optimistic. Excited. Hopeful. We have much to look forward to, much to be thankful for, and that's a good place to be.
It was the kind of morning when I feel like God is clearly telling us we are on the right track. He blessed us with blue skies as if to say, "You are taking a leap of faith and making huge sacrifices today, so here's a little reward to keep you going."
By the time we got up and had breakfast we had to hustle a bit to get out the door. I was taking Sam to his Saturday morning bowling league and Steve's plan was to leave for W. Virginia at the same time. We managed to pull it off without a hitch. Steve called tonight to say he had arrived in Morgantown and is checked in at a motel. It was a good day.
Sam asked me today if dad is working "near the mountains." Because, ya' know, I am a huge John Denver fan and every time Steve talks about West Virginia lately I start singing "Country Roads." I remember the days of my childhood when my dad drove us from Michigan to Florida to spend the holidays with our grandparents and how I was so fascinated by the hilly terrain we encountered as we got further south. I can't wait to share that adventure with our kids when we finally get a chance to visit Steve.
Tomorrow begins a new week. It's time to settle into a new groove with new routines and inevitably a new set of challenges. I am optimistic. Excited. Hopeful. We have much to look forward to, much to be thankful for, and that's a good place to be.
Thursday, January 7, 2010
This is my new favorite picture of Sam, our 11-yr-old. I took it while we were sledding one day during Christmas break. I love every detail about it: his rosy cheeks, his badass skaterboy hat, his thick eyelashes, the snow caked on his hoodie. But most of all I love that look on his face like he is concentrating on something amazing off in the distance.
The reality? This child will not stand still for more than 3.2 seconds. I had him all squared up for a great photo atop the hill, probably talking a little smack to keep him smiling, and I didn't hit the shutter button fast enough. After my alloted 3.2 seconds he turned to gallop away.
So this is what I ended up with. I love it.
And that look on his face? Probably hatching some crafty plot for Sledding Hill Domination.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)