When you do not have a job, and aren't actively seeking one, the days can all run into each other with little variation, a Wednesday feeling the same as a Saturday for instance. I suppose if I were a super scheduled routine oriented person it might be different. I have tried that route - the first few days of staying home with G I sought out all the local activities we could go to on any given day and put them all on the calendar. Some days it seemed we had to choose between two or even three activities that were all happening at the same time. As much as G likes to go out and do things though (he is super smart and has a very very busy brain that leads him into trouble when he is bored) he also does not like to have to be on a schedule, preferring to go at his own pace, transition when he feels ready, and to have a lot of control over his own self. Don't we all? I suppose there is benefit in learning how to adapt to enforced routines, scheduled transitions, etc in preparation for school and life etc but right now is OUR time. Time for G to get to know himself, trust his environment, trust me, and gain back some control that he lost when an adult decided to steal that away him.
As I've moved through the past 5 weeks I've battled with myself about how to navigate this time. Should I be structuring our days? Should I be limiting kindle/tv screen time? Should I be doing specific preschool activities with him? Should we join a class of some kind? Go to story-time? Do educational activities at museums? I mean, isn't that what GOOD parents do? According to Pinterest, I should be cooking with him, setting up sensory play stations, doing science experiments with food coloring and dish soap, or I could be journaling with him, we could learn music together on youtube, we could volunteer somewhere - oh all the ways I am failing my son are right there on Pinterest, let me tell you! But after last week, in which we did absolutely nothing, every single day, and in which G woke up when he wanted to, napped in the car on a drive to pick up H (or didn't nap at all) and went to bed whenever he was so tired that his behavior resembled flying monkeys... I think its again coming down to balance. Some days neither of us have the energy to pull it all together in time to get to a story hour, or I don't feel like dealing with the unknown factors of going to a place we've never been to do an activity he might not even enjoy. Watching G zoom around the backyard talking to himself as he imagines superheroes fighting off giant spiders, or seeing him come inside to get his own water by getting his stool and climbing up to reach the tap, or listening to him explain a drawing he's made of a submarine with wings and rocket boosters and a special port for 'the guys' to get out, or building lego's with him seem like a pretty good way to spend our time. We go grocery shopping and make friends with anyone who will smile back. We go to the playground and practice sharing and taking turns. We read signs and labels. We are doing a pretty good job I think.
This weekend did show me, again, that I do need to watch out for G's level of over stimulation and his overall mood before subjecting ourselves to anything extra. Going to the playground at 3:30 in the afternoon on a hot day when he didn't nap and was already fractious was probably not my wisest choice. But no blood was shed so I call that a win! He is still fighting off a cold from last week complete with stuffy nose and occasional cough, and he has a couple of mosquito bites which he has big reactions to so we will still keep it low key again this week. I do have a new employee orientation coming up and I feel a little anxiety about the upcoming training I have to do and the amount of time I'll need to be away from him and how that will play out but I have trusted the universe with all things lately so I'm trusting it with this thing as well. I'll need some consistent childcare for 4 days in a row for a couple of weeks and I am hopeful I can find something that works for G without disrupting him too much. He doesn't do very well when his older siblings are in charge and I'm sure I know why, but getting them on board to make things better hasn't been very successful!
So here we are. Week 6. G doesn't talk about preschool at all. He's mentioned one or two friends but only once or twice. He's so amazing and I"m so glad I get to spend this time with hims whether its unstructured or routine, whether it's boring errands or pinterest worthy activities. Watching him grow and change is a gift, even on the bad days when both of us cry. Ever since the day I made him sit on the couch with the little guy I was nannying so they could 'work it out', he suggests that as a resolution to just about every problem. If I say, "G, I really need you to stop/start XYZ so how can we come up with a solution?" He replies, "how 'bout we sit on the couch and work it out?" Makes me laugh every time! And we do, though. We sit on the couch, we talk, and we work things out. I love that this has become something he sees as a valuable tool. I feel like we are just entering a stage where I can start seeing more positive changes as he feels more and more settled into our new way of living. There were donuts for breakfast today so life feels pretty good to him! There will be carrots at lunch though, because, balance...
Showing posts with label Preschool. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Preschool. Show all posts
September 12, 2016
August 11, 2016
Day Four(ish) - and the story of why...
Tuesday was day two. At some point it ended, as all days eventually do. We didn't get to accomplish any of the important things on our list, but we acquired a lizard. Accidentally. Sort of. Its a long story involving Amazon Prime, UPS, an electronic delivery for H and a rush to leave the house for a last minute call to work, and G screaming, "A Lizard! A Lizard!" It culminated in a trip to Petco. Because...well...because G named it Liz and then what else could I do but buy it a cage and some crickets? And then we went to bed. When we woke up, it was Wednesday, Liz was still alive and in captivity, and everything seemed right with the world. And that is how it goes I think, this thing called "life".
Wednesday was day three. Day three was a day it was too wet to play, so we stayed in the house all the humid, hot, day (thank you Dr. Suess) No, not really, not ALL day...but kind of. It rained hard, which we desperately needed, and so we played with playdough and made messes, and played in the big boxes that Amazon and UPS had delivered the previous day (no more lizards thank goodness!) and then finally we clambered into the car so H could practice driving.
Practice is a funny word to use for driving. I mean, its not like you can make a mistake, like, say, get in a wreck, and then just "undo" it and start over. No, no, driving doesn't work that way. Just saying. But we did it. I mean, we practiced, not got in a wreck...so we practiced not getting in a wreck? H drove and I breathed and it was fine. We shopped at a far away Trader Joes (because momma needed a little "Two Buck Chuck" after that drive) and then dropped G off to visit with his daddy, and then H drove home again, in a torrential downpour complete with blinding sun glare and rush hour traffic. We were very glad to get home. Both of us equally. When G came back later on, we were both deep in our own electronic devices just decompressing from the "practice". And then we went to bed. When we woke up it was Thursday, Liz was still alive and captive, and everything seemed right with the world. I'm sensing a pattern here.
Today is Thursday. It is (was?) DAY FOUR. My fourth day of being a stay at home mom. I've been here before, but just not with THIS kid. It's not unfamiliar to me, but it's entirely different all at the same time. This is the story of why...
I have 3 other kids, the youngest of whom is 18 and I was at home with her all her entire elementary school years before I started working, at home with her and her two older siblings. I was home, married, driving a minivan and going to play dates and PTA meetings, and running kids to soccer and karate and tee-ball. Until. Until I wasn't.
When G came along, I was a single mom, working hard at two jobs for minimum wage. I utilized a food bank. I had food stamps and WIC. I got assistance for heat and utilities. He was 16 months old when I finally got a good, stable, well paying job. I was so grateful for that job! I was proud of my work, of my employer, of how well I was doing, proud of paying my own way and not using assistance of any kind. When G was just turning 3 I moved him from the small home daycare he was at because I thought he was bored... I found a great preschool with a science and nature based curriculum with outdoor trails and a really good balance of social skills and academics. The director had been running it for so long, that I actually knew her from when my older kids had gone to some summer camp programs she ran. How much safer could it get? Apparently a lot. I'm not really sure of the whole story, but as best I can tell, that person had a problem with G and began to take out her frustrations with him physically. I know she used her fingers to "thump" or "flick" him on the head, I know she grabbed his arm and forced him into a chair, to bully him into her office, to pull him... I know she shook him, by his shoulders. I know she bent down and got right in his face and made a "mad face"...and I know she used her hand to grab my baby's cheeks in between her thumb and other fingers and "pinch" or "squeeze". G used the word "punch" but he demonstrated a "pinch"... I hope it was only a pinch.
For seven months my boy was there - seven months before I understood what was happening, seven months of being mistreated by an adult, of being told by ME to "try harder buddy" and "you have to listen to your teacher" and "you just have to behave". Seven months before I actually HEARD my boy and understood what he was trying to tell me. I will never stop hurting for those months.
I pulled G out of that center in one swift moment - it was a dark winter night after picking him up as usual, but when he relayed some instance from the day it was like a light bulb switching on for me. One moment from the back seat, safely snug in his $300 European carseat (because no expense was too great when it came to keeping him safe - oh the irony...) and he was done there. I left a message on their answering machine, cancelled the check I'd just written for the 'two weeks in advance, payable the Monday prior to the two weeks time frame', called the licensing board, and never looked back.
It was a rocky 3 weeks before I found him a new place. My boss was accommodating and patient, but I could see her generosity running out by the last week. The new place was fresh, and bright, with open rooms and a director/teacher who had also had her own child mistreated somewhere...surely she would 'get it'. And I think she did, to the extent she could. But my G? He was a little too bruised in the spirit. A little broken in the feelings of "trust" and "safety". And he wasn't gonna take shit from no one!
It took another 7 months of hard times, of behaviors and infractions and modifications, of being sent home...before I could choose to listen to the fact that he needed ME. He needed me to be with him all the time, to be the one to set the limits and enforce them. He needed me to show him, tangibly, that he was safe. That he was a good boy, a loved boy, and that he could make friends and have friends and that he could trust his momma to BE there to keep him safe, even when he didn't behave appropriately. Because when you are 4? Sometimes you don't behave appropriately. Sometimes even when you are an adult you don't behave appropriately...but I need to be the one to be there when that happens, because even if I get frustrated, even if I yell, I will always keep him safe. I will not hurt his body, his trust, his faith. So I quit my job and am staying home to take care of my son. He is hurt in the deepest place inside and there is nothing that can heal it save love...and patience...and the every day efforts of rebuilding trust and a deep faith in safety. That's what I'm here for.
So on today, day four, we hung out in our pj's. We had pancakes for breakfast because G asked for them. We ate cheese-sticks and crackers with pink lady apples for lunch and G tried snow peas and decided they were pretty good. Almost as good as carrots, maybe. We sat outside, zipped up inside our mosquito netted canopy in the sweltering humid New England evening, safe from mosquito's, and played Old Maid by the light of citronella candles and our own love. We ate peanut butter sandwiches and read The Cat In The Hat. He was on his Kindle too much, but thats ok. There is a balance to everything and today was a day for electronics and carbohydrates and simple entertainment. Tomorrow is another chance to do bigger things. Today? Today was just perfect.
Wednesday was day three. Day three was a day it was too wet to play, so we stayed in the house all the humid, hot, day (thank you Dr. Suess) No, not really, not ALL day...but kind of. It rained hard, which we desperately needed, and so we played with playdough and made messes, and played in the big boxes that Amazon and UPS had delivered the previous day (no more lizards thank goodness!) and then finally we clambered into the car so H could practice driving.
Practice is a funny word to use for driving. I mean, its not like you can make a mistake, like, say, get in a wreck, and then just "undo" it and start over. No, no, driving doesn't work that way. Just saying. But we did it. I mean, we practiced, not got in a wreck...so we practiced not getting in a wreck? H drove and I breathed and it was fine. We shopped at a far away Trader Joes (because momma needed a little "Two Buck Chuck" after that drive) and then dropped G off to visit with his daddy, and then H drove home again, in a torrential downpour complete with blinding sun glare and rush hour traffic. We were very glad to get home. Both of us equally. When G came back later on, we were both deep in our own electronic devices just decompressing from the "practice". And then we went to bed. When we woke up it was Thursday, Liz was still alive and captive, and everything seemed right with the world. I'm sensing a pattern here.
Today is Thursday. It is (was?) DAY FOUR. My fourth day of being a stay at home mom. I've been here before, but just not with THIS kid. It's not unfamiliar to me, but it's entirely different all at the same time. This is the story of why...
I have 3 other kids, the youngest of whom is 18 and I was at home with her all her entire elementary school years before I started working, at home with her and her two older siblings. I was home, married, driving a minivan and going to play dates and PTA meetings, and running kids to soccer and karate and tee-ball. Until. Until I wasn't.
When G came along, I was a single mom, working hard at two jobs for minimum wage. I utilized a food bank. I had food stamps and WIC. I got assistance for heat and utilities. He was 16 months old when I finally got a good, stable, well paying job. I was so grateful for that job! I was proud of my work, of my employer, of how well I was doing, proud of paying my own way and not using assistance of any kind. When G was just turning 3 I moved him from the small home daycare he was at because I thought he was bored... I found a great preschool with a science and nature based curriculum with outdoor trails and a really good balance of social skills and academics. The director had been running it for so long, that I actually knew her from when my older kids had gone to some summer camp programs she ran. How much safer could it get? Apparently a lot. I'm not really sure of the whole story, but as best I can tell, that person had a problem with G and began to take out her frustrations with him physically. I know she used her fingers to "thump" or "flick" him on the head, I know she grabbed his arm and forced him into a chair, to bully him into her office, to pull him... I know she shook him, by his shoulders. I know she bent down and got right in his face and made a "mad face"...and I know she used her hand to grab my baby's cheeks in between her thumb and other fingers and "pinch" or "squeeze". G used the word "punch" but he demonstrated a "pinch"... I hope it was only a pinch.
For seven months my boy was there - seven months before I understood what was happening, seven months of being mistreated by an adult, of being told by ME to "try harder buddy" and "you have to listen to your teacher" and "you just have to behave". Seven months before I actually HEARD my boy and understood what he was trying to tell me. I will never stop hurting for those months.
I pulled G out of that center in one swift moment - it was a dark winter night after picking him up as usual, but when he relayed some instance from the day it was like a light bulb switching on for me. One moment from the back seat, safely snug in his $300 European carseat (because no expense was too great when it came to keeping him safe - oh the irony...) and he was done there. I left a message on their answering machine, cancelled the check I'd just written for the 'two weeks in advance, payable the Monday prior to the two weeks time frame', called the licensing board, and never looked back.
It was a rocky 3 weeks before I found him a new place. My boss was accommodating and patient, but I could see her generosity running out by the last week. The new place was fresh, and bright, with open rooms and a director/teacher who had also had her own child mistreated somewhere...surely she would 'get it'. And I think she did, to the extent she could. But my G? He was a little too bruised in the spirit. A little broken in the feelings of "trust" and "safety". And he wasn't gonna take shit from no one!
It took another 7 months of hard times, of behaviors and infractions and modifications, of being sent home...before I could choose to listen to the fact that he needed ME. He needed me to be with him all the time, to be the one to set the limits and enforce them. He needed me to show him, tangibly, that he was safe. That he was a good boy, a loved boy, and that he could make friends and have friends and that he could trust his momma to BE there to keep him safe, even when he didn't behave appropriately. Because when you are 4? Sometimes you don't behave appropriately. Sometimes even when you are an adult you don't behave appropriately...but I need to be the one to be there when that happens, because even if I get frustrated, even if I yell, I will always keep him safe. I will not hurt his body, his trust, his faith. So I quit my job and am staying home to take care of my son. He is hurt in the deepest place inside and there is nothing that can heal it save love...and patience...and the every day efforts of rebuilding trust and a deep faith in safety. That's what I'm here for.
So on today, day four, we hung out in our pj's. We had pancakes for breakfast because G asked for them. We ate cheese-sticks and crackers with pink lady apples for lunch and G tried snow peas and decided they were pretty good. Almost as good as carrots, maybe. We sat outside, zipped up inside our mosquito netted canopy in the sweltering humid New England evening, safe from mosquito's, and played Old Maid by the light of citronella candles and our own love. We ate peanut butter sandwiches and read The Cat In The Hat. He was on his Kindle too much, but thats ok. There is a balance to everything and today was a day for electronics and carbohydrates and simple entertainment. Tomorrow is another chance to do bigger things. Today? Today was just perfect.
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