Family Archives - Page 2 of 3 - Radioactive Elephant

My Fixer Upper: From A Child’s Perspective

I really like home improvement shows. Even before I owned a home, I watched them and daydreamed. Color Splash, Property Brothers, Rehab Addict, Design on a Dime, and of course Fixer Upper.

8 or so years ago, my husband and I bought our own “fixer upper” on our shoestring budget. We quickly replaced the roof, painted every room, repaired a fence, updated the some plumbing, and some of the electrical. We finished a partially converted and unfinished garage and turned into an office. Guys, I can tape, float and texture like a pro. Then, we went a little house broke.

We started a kitchen update right before our first baby was born. An even tighter budget meant we didn’t get granite countertops, just a nice laminate. I hand sanded and painted the existing kitchen cabinets at 6 months pregnant. I had a serious nesting phase. And of course, we choose a cheaper flooring option than we would have desired.

After our son was born, we still had a few other projects but the took a back seat to the baby. I don’t think I did a thing until I started getting more sleep… around 15 months later!

A couple of summers ago, I did a DIY floor treatment. It was lots of work, looked beautiful, and didn’t break the bank. But it won’t hold up in the long run.

Now, when I see my house… I still see all our unfinished projects. The spot that still needs trim added, the flooring that is cracking and needs to be resealed, the unfinished guest bathroom, the windows that need to be updated, and the leak in the bathroom, while fixed, left sheetrock in need of replacement.

My husband still daydreams about tearing down walls and switching up the layout. He’s a designer and dreamer.

This Christmas I wanted to have family over and host Christmas. Between baby number two’s early arrival and our unfinished projects, my husband had a stern “NO!” He didn’t want to clean or make our house presentable. I understood. We were both pretty tired.

But I think we have a constant fear of our house not being finished, not being good enough, and not being clean enough. We don’t have friends over very often unless they are really close friends.

I see all my house’s faults… Our 5 year old doesn’t.

This is my favorite place.”

“Did you build this house for me? I love our house.”

“I love your bed. It’s cozy”

“I love my big giant bed. You built it for me.”

(Thanks IKEA for making us look like super heroes)

“I love my room. I love my planets and all my stars.

(I hot glued planets and glow in the dark stars to his bed)

And… “I’m ready to go home.”

This boy doesn’t see our house’s faults or the dirt on the floor. He sees the vibrant colors and personal touches.
He doesn’t mind sharing a bathroom with his parents. In fact, he enjoys it.
He doesn’t see unfinished projects.
He sees the room where he reads each night with his parents.
He sees his art hung on the walls.
He sees safety, security, and comfort.
He sees our home from his own perspective and loves it.

I’m challenging myself to see it in that same way. I want to see the hearth of my home, and not my to do list.

House maintenance is real and important thing. I’m not excusing our laziness, but I am allowing a little grace. And let the real beauty of my home to shine through: faith in the Spirit of The Living God, and the humans who live and dwell here. I want to see the blessings of my security, not a comparison of wealth.

So while I’m in this season of holding babies and no free time or free hands, I want to see my home from a child like perspective. I want this to be my favorite place, cracked flooring and all.

How Does Your Garden Grow? Seeing Beyond the Tangled Mess

One of my neighbors has a neat and tidy row garden. Another has a well planned and abundant secret garden of plants and pathways. My garden… well.. I think it started out as companion gardening, planting helpful and supportive plants together. Now, it’s basically a “Let’s toss some seeds and see if it grows there” type of garden.

After an eventful year, where garden tending was my least priority, my garden has taken on a life of itself. My tomato plants reseeded themselves in places, my herbs are growing untamed, and the three tomato and pepper plants I added are abundant.

There are spots that need to be pruned back, weeds that need to be pulled and some plants that really should stay in their designated area!

This morning, I had to craw over a bush to pick tomatoes. If I don’t trim back the bush, soon there will be fruit growing beyond my reach.

As abundant as my garden is now, I’m reminded that it’s not my green thumb keeping it going. God’s providence is displayed in nature’s bounty.

“That is why I tell you not to worry about everyday life—whether you have enough food and drink, or enough clothes to wear. Isn’t life more than food, and your body more than clothing? Look at the birds. They don’t plant or harvest or store food in barns, for your heavenly Father feeds them. And aren’t you far more valuable to him than they are? Can all your worries add a single moment to your life?

“And why worry about your clothing? Look at the lilies of the field and how they grow. They don’t work or make their clothing, yet Solomon in all his glory was not dressed as beautifully as they are. And if God cares so wonderfully for wildflowers that are here today and thrown into the fire tomorrow, he will certainly care for you. Why do you have so little faith?

“So don’t worry about these things, saying, ‘What will we eat? What will we drink? What will we wear?’ These things dominate the thoughts of unbelievers, but your heavenly Father already knows all your needs. Seek the Kingdom of God above all else, and live righteously, and he will give you everything you need.

“So don’t worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring its own worries. Today’s trouble is enough for today. – Jesus, as recorded in Matthew 6:25-34

I can tend my garden: prune limbs, water, add nutrients to the soil, deter pests, strategically group plants, scatter seeds. But in the end, I’m not in control. The vines grow where they wish, dying plants will leave seeds that sprout, and the Texas weather will do as it pleases.

In the same way I’m not in control of my garden, I’m not in total control of my life. And that’s a hard notion to swallow.

I like having my life in order, plans made, schedules and such. This helps me feel in control. I feel like I should be a row gardener.

In the quiet of my morning walk through my garden, I realized how much trying to control certain areas in my life has been making me crazy and resentful. I’ve become envious of my neighbor’s “row gardening” lives. I’ve been striving for things, while good, are beyond my current reach. I do have places I need to tend to, places where I need to pull weeds and prune the back the overgrowth, but I need to loosen my grip in a few areas of my life.

I love my messy, overgrown, “companion” garden. And if I’m honest, I love my messy, “never in a row” life. Even the thorny parts. It’s just hard sometimes.

And really, if I had it all together, I wouldn’t be outside in my garden in my PJs. I wouldn’t be lifting a tiny “Darth Vader”, who is wearing mix matched PJ’s that are two sizes too small, into an overgrown tomato garden. And this morning, I see this picture in all it’s “not in a row” glory.

Abundance in a tangled mess

Beauty in the imperfections

Joy in the unexpected

Hope among the thorns

Peace in the quiet moments

So I ask, how does your garden grow?

(I wrote this a month ago and I’m just now getting around to publishing it. Please note that with August approaching every plant is near death. Even my neighbor’s gardens. And, I have had my fill of tomatoes this season! My metaphorical garden, however, is still thriving as both messy and beautiful. )

Not the Best, but Enough

Recently, my son had a little event at his school where each student presented their mom with an award. It said, “My mom is the best because… Most kids had dictated things like, “We go to the park” Or “She gets me ice cream.”

My kid wrote, “I like to draw pink.” Not me… him. He was drawing with pink on the picture when they asked him, and he was probably stuck in that moment. I didn’t expect deep though because… well, he is a goofball! After hearing his classmates say it during the presentation, he kept repeating, “You’re the best!” It was totally cute.

That same week, I had my middle school class make Mother’s Day poetry pop up cards. Anytime I do something family related I preface it with, “Every family is different. Do what works best for your situation.” My students have a variety of home situations. Moms, step moms, grandmothers, dads who take up the role of moms, and some who have lost their moms altogether.

Mother’s Day can be painful. It can open old wounds. And when we compare, we all fall short.

Comparison is also the thief of our joy. Competition is great for business and sports, but not motherhood.

I’m not the “best” mom. In fact, the morning my son presented me with my award, seriously lost my cool because we were late. Really late. Again.

Sometimes we lose it because of the expectations heaped upon us from others. But most of the times, it because of the expectations we lay before ourselves. The type of parent we want to be, what we want to achieve, the to-do-list we want to complete, the goals we want to meet. Before long, we realize there aren’t enough hours in the day, we can’t physically do everything, and we have created disorder. In the midst of our struggle, we have lost our joy.

Our God is not a God of disorder but of peace. -1 Corinthians 14:33

My floors are dirty, I have epic laundry piles, I can’t make it to every school event, and I’m just so tired some days. I’m great at some things, and stink at others. But, I am enough. I am enough for my children. I am enough for my family. I love them with all my heart. I can celebrate love rather than perfection.

So, remember you are enough.

Love continually.

Laugh hard.

Take blurry photos.

Enjoy the moment.

Celebrate love.

Cultivate peace.

Perfection is overrated and exhausting.

May the God of peace be with you on this Mother’s Day.

Writing an email to your child’s teacher: Conquering emotion and being effective

How do you write an email to your child’s teacher? Seems simple enough, right? Just type up your thoughts and hit send. But you might be surprised at the handful of oddly worded, grumpy, or just plain mean emails even an amazing teacher, ehem.. like myself, might receive.

I feel I have a unique perspective on the matter: I have been teaching for the last 7 years and I have a child who recently started attending school and has unique needs. In reality, parent-teacher communication is a part of my daily life, on both sides of the fence. While I will be the first to admit that I am not an expert, I do have a few thoughts on the matter.

As a Teacher

Awhile back, I received and email that started out with “Don’t you realize….” and proceeded with a large list of complaints that ended with a demand.

Here is the context: I received this email on my phone. I saw it pop up on my phone at 7:30am as I was walking my own child to his classroom to start his day. I was immediately flustered, and fought the urge to view it right then. Instead, I focused on my kiddo’s normal routine, rushed to my school to be “on duty” and then start my first period class. But with three simple words, a parent immediately set me on the defensive, regardless of the content that followed. As I read the email, I realized they had read my last email wrong. I send out weekly emails to all my classes. I wanted to be snippy and reply “Do you realize this email was intended for ALL of my 130 students and their parents as a reminder of their homework” but I took a breath, held my tongue, and decided to type a point by point response on my planning period.

Less than an hour later, the head of one department politely interrupted my class. She had received a phone call from a parent. “Had I responded to their email yet?” “No”, I replied, “I’ve been teaching all morning.” It’s rather embarrassing to have a parent “go over your head.” In the end, I typed my response, the parent seemed satisfied, and the student’s needs were being met. But I did spend the majority of the morning rather tense.

Truth: Teachers have feelings and we take our job seriously. And we honestly love your kid, even when they are tough. – I lose sleep worrying about your child. I feel deeply. My job often interrupts my personal life.

As a teacher, I try to remember this:

That child is the center of that parent’s universe. The fact they contacted you means they care, even if they reacted out of emotion. They are their child’s advocate and safety net. It’s a big job and it’s tough. (These words were on repeat in my head as I read and re-read that particular email)
Be both professional and sensitive when you choose your words. The behaviors and struggles you see with that child, are often worse and harder at home. (This was actually advice a teacher gave me when I first started teaching, and has proven time an again to be true)

Flip side – As a Parent

I email my son’s teacher on a weekly basis. But, a few weeks ago, he went from doing really well to three epic meltdowns in three days. One was bad enough they called my husband, who happens to be the primary contact since he can actually answer his phone and leave work during the day. By the third day, I wanted to scream, “What’s wrong! What changed! Why is my little boy so angry!” Instead, I took a deep breath and thought back to how I wished more parents would respond to me.

I structured a response using a few guidelines I set for myself:

Don’t take an accusatory tone. Placing blame won’t solve anything and immediately places a teacher on the defensive. Just say what happened.
Let them know what you noticed and ask them what they suggest as solutions. Remember: You are the expert on your child but they are the expert in the classroom. Feel free to offer suggestions, but sometimes what works at home is hard to adapt to the classroom environment.
End or begin each email with some form of gratitude or appreciation. Most teachers are trying their absolute best even on a rough day.
I have a friend, who posts on her social media all the amazing things that her child’s teacher does to meet his individualized needs. Yes! Your teacher would love you to brag on them when they go above and beyond, not just gripe when we mess up.
After your email is sent, allow processing time. Our district asks us to respond to parent emails within 24 hours. I’m sure other’s have similar rules. Don’t expect an immediate response, even though you might get it. The teacher is in a classroom full of students. We rarely have time to use the restroom, except on our designated planning period. If it’s that urgent: call the teacher. And don’t go over their head until you have given them time to respond.

So, my email looked something like this:

Thank you for keeping us updated and handling the meltdowns this week. Since he had three meltdowns in a row this week and none last week, I’m not sure what is different. I noticed, each day he had meltdown, he didn’t each his lunch. Is he eating the school snack? At home, his meltdowns are worse when he doesn’t eat much. Could this be a factor? What could we do about it?

We actually had about three emails back and forth, but in the end the teacher suggested he take a sensory break before lunch. And it helped. Problem solved… until the next one arises.
In the end, I’m glad to be working for a district whose motto is “To love every child.” I’m doing my best to follow that in my classroom. In return, my hope is that my child will be loved and cared for by his teachers. After all, It takes a village!

Welcome to the Sensory Blog Hop — a monthly gathering of posts from sensory bloggers hosted by The Sensory Spectrum and The Jenny Evolution. Click on the links below to read stories from other bloggers about what it’s like to have Sensory Processing Disorder and to raise a sensory kiddo! Want to join in on next month’s Sensory Blog Hop? Click here!

An InLinkz Link-up

Patience is a Virtue

Okay I hear that a lot. I get told I have plenty of patience. I’m not sure if that’s because I’m a middle school teacher or because I have a unique 4 year old. Either way, it got me thinking.

I don’t think I have a plethora of patience. In fact, I get annoyed, angry and irritated with the best of them.
I once had someone tell me I was the perfect parent for my son. That God knew I could handle it. (Insert laughter) It was very sweet, and perhaps even true. I do think he is the best, funniest, quirkiest kid ever. However, I’m biased. But was he born to me simply because I was blessed with patience? Because I could handle the tough moments?

You ever hear the saying that if you pray for patience that God gives you a situation that requires a NEED for patience. It’s a funny saying, but I can’t recall actually seeing that in the Bible.
And then there is the “God won’t give you more than you can handle” quote. If that were true, only good, strong people would be put in tough situations. And that doesn’t seem fair. If that were true, the blame falls on me when I feel overwhelmed, when I can’t handle it. Depression, loss, grief, become things we should be able to handle. Otherwise, are we not failing God? He thought we could “handle” it. This is simply not true. We are human, we have limits, we can be broken.

The other weekend, I was taking a nap. I had a slight fever and my husband offered to play with our son, X, and let me sleep. I was in and out, but I remember waking to hear them playing with Legos. X literally said the same line, “Can I put the block here” repeatedly for 30 plus times with only a slight variation. My husband replied calmly, tried to engage in actual conversation, and just played with him. We joke that he gets “stuck on repeat” sometimes. They played for two hours. Sometimes it’s precious, and for a moment I think, “Yes, we do have a lot of patience.”

Other times it’s annoying. Like when we are trying to load up into the car and I answer the same question over, and over, and over. And there are plenty more times when our response is where beauty shines through.

We are not patient because we are born that way.

We are not patient because we are excellent parents.

We are not patient because we are good people.

We are patient because we have learned to be.

We are patient because we love our child.

We are patient because we love our God.

“Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.”

‭‭1 Corinthians‬ ‭13:4-7‬ ‭NLT‬‬

We get overwhelmed, frustrated, annoyed, and angry. There are times when it is too much. When our situation becomes too much for us to handle. That is our humanity.

That’s is when we need others.

That’s is when we need God.

That’s is when we need love.

Love is our calling to be more like God, more like Christ himself. Despite our situation. In comfort or hardship.
Love, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, self control … These are what we hope to achieve. What we are continually striving for.

Patience isn’t so much a virtue, or gift, but rather a skill that must be learned and practiced. At its very best, it is a quality that reflects the very nature and heart of God himself.

But I swear… I wasn’t just born this way!

Uniquely Mine

Throughout this past year I have been journalling in the notes section of my phone. My hope was to eventually start my blog up again. As I read though my year of notes, I noticed several had a common theme: my struggle raising a unique three year old: X. While my other notes, some funny and others deep in thought, can stand alone, these cannot. They are tied together like a string of pearls and the progression of thoughts are interdependent. Please excuse the length, and focus on the thoughts.

7.27.15

Despite my own attempts, I’ve never been a “by the book parent”, and the last few nights are no exception. Dreaded nightly showers are motivated by blowing bubbles to keep a child scared of water slightly close enough to the sprinkles to be washed. Painful attempts of brushing X’s teeth are motivated by dialogue such as, “10 seconds, we can do anything for 10 seconds” as I plunge a brush toward X’s teeth. Words like, “You can brush or I can brush, but we have to brush our teeth.” Only to have him run away screaming. But it’s been getting easier, small steps toward “normal”.

Last night I washed X’s hair by myself. I mean, it still had soap in it, but I was able to get it wet, soaped, and mostly rinsed on my own with minimal fussing.

Tonight after a shower, X asked to brush his own teeth. He did, sorta, back and forth actually touching his front teeth. Then on with Pjs and He climbed into bed with me and we began to read. At first we read his library books. Then, I picked up my book and began reading silently as he “read” his books to himself. After showing some interest in my book, a middle school novel, I began reading it out loud. He curled up around me, snuggled in, and after a short time, he fell asleep.

Yes, many nights X falls asleep in my bed, or wakes up scared and finds his way there. Yes, getting ready for bed and the bedtime routines are insanely hard in our house. Like bring you to tears hard, but some nights it is easier. I think it will keep getting better, as he models my behavior: My positive smiles despite my worries and heartache. My joy comes from the little victories: the first shower without needing two people in at least a year, X asking to brush his teeth, and warm snuggles. And then there is reading, no one “reads” and memorizes like him. Maybe that will be his greatest strength.

I can almost guarantee no other household looks like mine, yet I love my life. It’s perfectly messy, routinely unexpected, full of love and uniquely mine.

God, please give me strength on the nights when it isn’t easy. Help me find joy in you when the victories are few. And Father, forgive me for the nights when my patience has grown thin, and my faith is weak and full of doubt. I’m sorry. God, please fill every mother, like me, who struggles and falls short of parenting “by the book” with strength, joy and hope. For tomorrow is another day. Amen.

12.21.15

I love my life, but sometimes there are tough moments. Like yesterday when nothing really bad happened but I still came home and cried. X threw two fits on our way into church. Why, because I told him no and his three years old. And also because bible class can be over stimulating. I love my church. I love the people. I love that we gather in the walkway and foyer to visit between services. X doesn’t. I try to get there either before service starts or a few minutes after to avoid the crowd. X use to love bible class and once I got him to his room he was happy. The toddlers did independent play and teachers did a few patterned songs and bible stories. A few months ago he graduated into the preschool class. The kids now talk to him and try to play with him. I teach in the toddler room and if I look over the barrier, I can see him. He screams at kids and tells them to get away. He plays by himself and repeats his little patterns. His teacher tries to involve him, but if she pushes, he screams. Then, he begs me to take him home. My. Heart. Breaks.

It’s not just that he has a bad day. He has had delayed development since 9 months and off and on has seen an occupational therapist. It’s nothing new to us. His doctor told us many kids, with the right support, simply take longer but get caught up. Basically, they grow out of it.

But now he is three. We have had him evaluated for sensory issues over the summer. Yep, he has those. They recommend more occupational therapy. Our insurance won’t cover it until we have a diagnosis by a development Doctor. Our appointment is in Feb and a follow up in March.

With each fit, scream, and repeated behavior, I cry. I cry because I’m worried he won’t grow out of it. I’m worried it won’t get easier. I’m worried I will be the parent attending ARDs and requesting modifications. I’m worried my beautiful little boy will be called weird and have trouble making friends at school.

But then he makes progress. As tough as yesterday was, he also ate slice of bread for the first time ever. We have victories. We have joy. We have faith. Yet, I feel alone with no one to cheer for us. “He ate bread!!!” Who posts that on their social media?

3.4.16

It’s not a big deal, until it is.
I walked out of our Pediatric Developmental Doctor’s office with my head held high. I can do this. No biggie.

Then, I realized I needed to pee. Once again, I thought I could handle it. I grabbed X’s hand and whisked him into a family restroom. He started screaming. And kicking. He was terrified. He has an epic fear of public bathrooms, or any small enclosed, narrow or unfamiliar room. I knew this, but thought I could handle it. He didn’t calm down. I could see the fear as his body flapped uncontrollably. Finally, he kicked so hard it opened the door. Since I hadn’t had time to even unbutton my pants, I left. I felt defeated. Alone. Embarrassed.

The meltdown, once started, won’t easily be calmed.

My plans were ruined. Messed up. And nothing was going to fix it. At least not quickly.

Two days I spent in a funk. I didn’t really want to talk about it. And if I did, I would surely cry. But those days passed.

The following week, I figured they had to be wrong. He was doing so well. He even started playing with a few kids. It’s not like you can look at him and see anything different. Maybe he could just grow out of these behaviors. Maybe I’m just letting him have his way too much. Maybe it will get better.

It’s not a big deal. We have routines. We do our thing. He likes to go to the same places, and see familiar things. I bring “his” snacks. And he smiles and laughs. He plays outside. He can run and jump. He can dance and sing. He is healthy. He is beautiful. It’s not a constant battle. We have days filled with so much joy.

But then it is. When I realize what we avoid. When I think about the everyday foods he has never tried. The places we can’t go. The birthday parties and events I cancel on. The bathrooms we don’t enter. The eggshells I walk on to avoid meltdowns. I know it appears like I’m spoiling him.
It’s fear. This fear lies in darkness. And how do you drive out darkness? You shine a light.

Our child has been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. Diagnosis At such a young age may shift so I don’t want to label him. It’s moderate and he is high functioning.
It’s not a big deal. We have a beautiful life. It’s not a big deal, until it is.

In those desperate moments where it really is.

7.17.16

Every family has their own unique struggles. I don’t want to pretend that mine are worse or even that much harder, but they do feel different and incredibly tough sometimes. I struggle daily living in the tension between looking at my child and seeing the most beautiful, unique, creative person ever created, seeing him and being completely in love and yet, in the same moment being completely overwhelmed.

Yet, I remember a wise young women once saying, “When you signed up to be a parent you don’t get to pick the level of difficulty. You knew there would be late nights and hard parts and maybe it’s more than you expected. But you can do this.” I can’t remember her exact words but she went on and reminded me that we can’t pick and choose, we get what we get and then make the most of it. They were not empty words either. In her next breath, she offered to help, in any way she could.

That’s my village. I’m surrounded my a small group of friends and family who remind me I’m doing my best in the midst of feeling like a failure. And then they offer to help even if it is just watching him so I can use the restroom in public.

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