Hope, Realized...

I've often made the observation that my three oldest kids are very very much just like me: quiet-ish, introvert-ish, readers and thinkers and creators, sarcastic and witty and flawed in the most interesting ways; and that my last born nugget is... entirely different.  G is loud, and fast, his brain is so sharp and constantly working, he is physically active and oddly, he is sensitive and easily offended.  He makes friends with cashiers and baggers, greeters, neighbors, strangers...but not so easily with classmates.  He loudly embraces life, and adventure, and people.  But for me, being his mom has not always been particularly easy.  He is fast.  And loud.  And not... like me.

He didn't like the car much as an infant.  He cried miserably for most all car rides.  He didn't like it if our house was noisy and full of people but he did enjoy getting out and people watching.  He was always easily over-stimulated and if we were out and in public too long, he fell apart.  At the same time, he needed interaction and connection and would get bored if stuck at home too much.  Grocery shopping was such an anxiety producing experience, as was the rare occasion we went anywhere in public, that at some point in time it was best to NOT go anywhere with him except a playground or other obviously kid-friendly place...that was enclosed.

When he was 2, he once ran away from me in Home Depot (after first screaming miserably in the cart for far too long and then kicking and hitting and squirming and screaming while held so that I HAD to put him down on the ground) and it was some kind of comedy to chase him: 2 employees, Hannah, and myself all trying to cut him off, round him up, corral him... and him running and shrieking gleefully up and down aisles.  He also ran from toddler story time once, shrieking with joy, through the aisles of the quiet library, with me in hot pursuit, red faced and embarrassed.  He ran away in church once too - darting like a squirrel in and out of pews, right in the middle of the service, with me hissing thru gritted teeth for him to getbackhererightnowthankyouverymuch!  We left the grocery store once also, him in my arms, my shirt half up around my neck exposing my body, him screaming and flailing like a cat getting a bath, just because.  He was loud in quiet places, overwhelmed in loud places, he ran near streets and near strangers, he slumped down and wouldn't move in the middle of activity.  By the time he was about 2 and a half, we just didn't do much at all.  It was too hard.

When he was 5, it was better.  Not great, but better.  We started going places again.  It got easier. He didn't run away, at least, not very often.  He was more compliant, and I was better at reading his signals.  I was learning him.  Finally.

Now that he's 7 and heading into second grade it's... so different.  It's more like what I had hoped for.  We do a LOT of things and go a LOT of places.  Regularly.  I didn't realize though, exactly how much my little wild one has changed, until this morning.

Yesterday I had to have him come to my work for a couple hours.  Hannah dropped him off and he came up with his backpack full of snacks and toys and sat at the front desk with me.  The hour of time that comprises "shift change" on a med surg floor is crazy chaotic.  Nurses coming in to get report from nurses leaving, last minute hold ups with discharging patients, last minute rushes to get patients admitted, a post lunch slew of toileting needs and medication changes, phones ringing and call bells sounding and overhead pages going out - it's loud and busy.  There are doctors and nurses and aids.  They know OF him, and when they see him they want to say hello.  And he sat through it all.  This morning, a nurse commented on G's behavior from yesterday, saying how amazed she was that he just sat there, played with his toys, ate his snack, watched a little show on my phone, answered politely to all the people stopping by to say hello to him and chat for a second, smiled and joked back at the ones who made time to engage, and was, in her opinion, a truly mature and mild child.  I listened to her and was overcome with emotion.  I hadn't even realized how much my boy has grown and changed, how much time has tempered my feral boy, how easy and joyful our times together now are, until someone else pointed out his genuinely agreeable little persona.  Another nurse had met him once before and was thrilled to see him again and commented what fun he was, how quiet and well behaved he was.  I was...tearful; and I treasured their comments deep in my heart.

Stepping outside my own limited perspective sheds such a bright light on so many things. Take away?  I'm going to try to do this intentionally, regularly, to step outside and look at the bigger view. To live bigger, broader, and with more open eyes.  To acknowledge.  To 'notice'.

Also?  I work with some pretty amazing and kind-hearted people!

Three Years Ago

Three years ago.  Three years ago seems like so very long ago - until I look at my child and his skinned up knees and his big brown eyes and hold him on my lap and then I think, "Three years ago was yesterday!"

Facebook gave me a memory today.  A memory from three years ago.  This is what I posted on Facebook three years ago, today:

August 4, 2016 

Last winter *G was just 3 and a half I discovered that G had been being mistreated at his daycare.  I'll never know the full story - but it happened, and that's all that matters. I pulled him out of that daycare immediately and began looking for a new place.  I found a really gentle and encouraging place that seemed to understand the situation and for awhile things were OK but G was really exhibiting a lot of behaviors we couldn't figure out.  We did everything we could and worked with his teachers and the director but G was just struggling with interacting with other kids and reacting really strongly when reprimanded; and primarily only at daycare (in hindsight, three years later, we see that he was trying to find his own sense of control and to feel 'big' since he'd been made to feel so helpless and small by adults in the old daycare).  He was struggling so much and everyone involved was feeling pretty unhappy so 3 weeks ago I made the decision to leave my job and stay home with him.  He only has another year before Kindergarten and he needs this time at home with me to feel safe, to regain trust in adults, to learn that he IS a good kid and worth every second of time I have.  I will be able to get back my savings, my retirement, my paycheck - but he will never have another chance to be four and to feel safe and be at home with me.  So - today was my last day at work and I'm alternately terrified and excited!

And what a terrifying and exciting time it's been!  My life has gone through a lot of dramatic changes over the last 10 years but its within these past 3 years that its really begun to settle, to sort itself out, to be balanced in a way it never was before.  I haven't enjoyed all the drama and the changes, and honestly I'd rather not have to relive any of it ever again, but I'm grateful for the growth I've experienced, for the time I've had with my son and for his healing which healed us both.  Who knows what things will look like in another three years!!