Last year we desperately tried to get Michael on a bike. And he said he wanted to, but really, he didn't. Maybe he was scared, maybe it was the low muscle tone, maybe he just didn't want to. Hell, I still don't know how to ride a bike, and I'm a well rounded, perfectly lovely individual (really, I am.)
About a week before his birthday, he started asking for a bike. And I was all, yeah, whatever. And he kept asking, and asking. And then Doug took him to the the toy store to redeem some birthday gift cards the day after his party while I was at a blogger event and they came home with a bike.
And he got on it. And pedaled. And all the progress from this year can be found in these pictures.
He is not screaming, he is not crying, he is not begging to get off. He looks, happy. Like a normal, well adjusted, happy, 5 year old boy.
Now if we could just work on the talking back. Because after the bike riding he got punished for being extremely sassy to me. But my guess is this is also normal 5 year old behavior.
When I think about this year, it is so hard not to think about all the bad. But I promised myself this post was not going to be about all the struggles that this year brought you, but all the good.
Michael, you have matured so much this year. You are no longer afraid to try new things. Yes, you still get scared, but you get scared and "you do it anyway." You have overcome adversity in a way that I now know throughout your life you can do anything you want.
You are bright. You are just oh so bright. Even people this year who didn't believe in your abilities said that, so I know I'm not biased. You ask amazing questions, like "why don't the stars fall down?" and "are aliens real?"" and "how do we know?" Questions I don't know the answers to. You want to be a scientist when you grow up and I have no doubt that if this is what you want you will accomplish it. You, can accomplish anything you want.
You have been counting down to this birthday with such anticipation.
Every morning this past week you have asked me if you are taller,
"because I'm going to be five Mommy. Five. A whole hand." "Am I five
yet?" And then we would have to talk, again, about how many days you
had until you were in, fact, five. "A whole hand."
Your new school has so much faith in you. Faith that six months ago I never imagined a school would have. "Stop waiting for the other shoe to drop," the director tells me. "This child is fine." "He is going to change the world," your OT tells me. And Michael, I have no doubt you will.
You recently told me that you were glad that I picked you for a kid. But I don't think that is how it works. I think you picked me. And I'm not sure exactly why, because sometimes I don't think I'm cut out for you. You challenge me in ways I never thought were possible and some days I think my worry over you will swallow me whole. But then you will tell me a joke or throw your arms around me and tell me how much you love me and I know that you picked the exact right mom for you and I never should have doubted myself.
Michael you are force to be reckoned with you. You are smart and funny and handsome and clever and turning into a mature, old soul. I wish the next year brings you all good things, joy and happiness, and not the challenges that the past year brought you. But I know this. Even if there are challenges and bumps along the way, you will conquer them. You are simply, amazing.
So if you follow me on twitter, you would know this post was coming. I came home from a program at Michael's school last night on "why you should send your child to our Kindergarten when there is a perfectly good free Kindergarten down the street," totally stressed and freaking out. See, I had made up my mind. I had decided on public school. Because we had done all the testing and he doesn't have a diagnosis and his behavior is better and he is no different than any other Kindergartner. So why can't he just go to public school?
And then, I spent 90 minutes listening to the why Montessori is better spiel and I was all, ARGHHHH, maybe we should keep him here. He is doing well and it is a 3 year cycle (screw the fact the he has only been there 3 months, it is a three year cycle and we can't break the cycle), kids can move around the classroom, and Michael needs that. Montessori kids became leaders, they transition better at first grade than at Kindergarten. THEY HAD RESEARCH, RESEARCH. (Okay, I'm being facetious a little because, clearly, they are trying to sell me something. But I'm also a slave to marketing and was falling for it hook, line, and sinker.)
And then my real fears started to seep through. What if he becomes a "behavior problem" again? What if he gets "labeled" in public school? He'll never shake the label. Public school is evil. We need to pay for Montessori forever.
Why is this so hard? WHY CAN'T I JUST MAKE THIS DECISION?
As of right now, I'm deciding not to decide. We will register him both places and decide closer to September. It is March. A lot can change between now and September. The heavens could part and I could instantly know what to do. Man, that would be nice, wouldn't it?
We took Michael ice skating on Saturday. I expected him to be terrified and freak out, but it is something I had wanted to do for a long time. We talked about it on Saturday and he said he wanted to go and then when the time came to leave he said he didn't. So I decided not to push it. He had already had a full day of activities and he and Doug were playing a game and I figured we could always go another day. But an hour later he said "Mom, I changed my mind, I do want to go ice skating."
Of course, by that time there was only an hour left of free skate time and Doug and I weren't even dressed but we threw on our clothes and ran to the local ice rink. Man is free skate expensive by the time you pay for everyone and skate rental and I figured we would be on the ice for 10 minutes tops.
Michael looked well, terrified. Doug told him everyone was going to fall once. He held both of our hands and I held onto the wall. To be honest, I was feeling a little shaky because I think the last time I was on ice skates, I was well, Michael's age? Maybe? And then Doug decided his skates were too small and he left the ice to exchange them. Leaving Michael and I. And I thought Michael was going to lose it. This child does not do well when he is scared. And Daddy can do anything. And I'm just Mom.
But I told him I had him and we would stay close to the wall, which was all true. Eventually he let me let go off the wall, and we skated, slowly, but we skated. We fell down, once, and he looked like he was going to cry, but he didn't, and we got right back up, and kept skating. Doug rejoined us and we lasted about 45 minutes on the ice. He had a blast. He eventually went to holding the wall on his own, but he never wanted to not be holding onto something. He never asked to leave, or stop, or asked to go home. In fact, he was disappointed when he had to leave because free skate time was over.
Is it OT or maturity that is making him braver? I'll probably never know. But I know this, 6 months ago there is no way in hell he would have gotten out there.
I fell in love with Doug on a carousel. We weren't even dating at the time. I, in fact, was dating one of his friends. But we were at a an amusement park with a group of friends (my boyfriend was absent, I can't even remember why) and this little boy had attached himself to Doug and I remember thinking Doug was so patient and kind that this was the man I should have children with. But it took years of being on a Circle Game to get there.
We have been on a different kind of a Circle Game lately. My friend Cagey called it a Merry Go Round. Michael's old school put us on it with tests and assessments and therapy and she was the one who said to me, "you are never going to know when it is time to get off." All the fines in the world are not enough, because we still have the "what ifs." "What if" it happens again? "What if he has X?" "What if THEY WERE RIGHT?"
I spent the last two days at a doctor who is Washington DC's expert in ADHD. It took us 6 months to get in with him, and then the appointment was canceled for snow. And then we almost never rescheduled, because "everything is fine, right?" But I figured, I have to know. I HAVE TO KNOW.
And when he took Michael back to his office for THE ASSESSMENT, what was going to give us THE ANSWER, THE ANSWER WE HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR, I almost vomited. And thank G-d for twitter, because when I tweeted that, there all of you were, with your virtual hugs. And trust me, I felt them. For all the bad that is social media, there is still so, so much good.
We waited six months, and what I learned was, it doesn't matter. We know no more than we knew yesterday. Michael probably doesn't have ADHD, but we will have to wait and see who he his when grows up a little bit. It is still too early to tell. But probably not. 50/50, leaning more towards no.
Michael told the doctor teachers are for "telling him when he is bad." Michael also said he wants to be a scientist when he grows up. When I called his OT after the appointment, she said "I think he is going to change the world."
After the doctor's appointment we went to the shoe store. He got the light up shoes he has wanted forever. He was thrilled. He couldn't wait to go to school to show everyone how his shoes light up.
I'm officially off the Merry Go Round.
This post reminded me so much of this song, I couldn't help myself: The Circle Game, Joni Mitchell
Over a pizza lunch on Sunday Michael started asking me why he didn't have any brothers and sisters. And instead of really answering the question, (I was so not prepared for the why you are an only child discussion), I decided to turn it into a teaching moment on how all families are different. It was not the first time we had had this conversation, but I decided since he was so much older, I could make it a little more intense.
"Michael, all families are different. Some families have a Mommy and a Daddy, some families have one Mommy only, some families have one Daddy. Some families are two Mommies or two Daddies. Some families are an Aunt or an Uncle or a Grandma or a Grandpa."
"Or a brother and a sister?"
"Or a brother and a sister. Or one brother or one sister."
"Or a cousin?"
"Or a cousin. Or 12 cousins. But the most important thing Michael is that when you go over to someone's house, even if their family looks different from ours, that we show them respect. Because all families are okay. The most important thing about a family is love. Not what it looks like, but love."
"Mommy?"
"Yes?"
"Can I be done?"
"With this conversation or with lunch?"
"With lunch."
And somehow that meant we were done with both things. I'm thinking though, if I say it often enough, it will sink in. Because nothing is more important to me than respecting all people, no matter who they are or what they look like or what they believe. All people.
(Doug is working from home today, we normally don't see him in the mornings.)
Doug says something sarcastically to me, which Michael doesn't quite understand, "Dad me nice to Mom. Mom, that wasn't nice, right? That was sassy?" (On another note, "Mom?" "Dad?" What is he, 12?)
"Michal, Daddy was just kidding, it's ok."
"No that wasn't nice, when I'm not nice I get in trouble."
"Well, that's true, but Daddy wasn't not being nice. And you can't tell Daddy what to do."
I did something I never do, and I spent some time looking at my archives yesterday. (Does anyone ever read their archives? I tend to think mine are crap and want to delete everything). I was looking for some pictures for Michael's 5 year montage (5, 5 how can this child be 5 soon?) and found myself on the whole line of posts aroundhis accidentlast year.
G-d, I had forgotten how truly gut wrenchingly horrible that was. I had convinced myself that the biggest mistake I ever made was moving out of that school to the new school, where all the badness happened. And after re-reading all those posts I realized, there is no way he could have stayed there.
It's funny, the things our memory does to play tricks on us. How we can blame ourselves for anything? Would Michael not have had the problems if we never moved him? I don't know, maybe, maybe not. Maybe he was reacting poorly to the house move and the school move and everything that happened all at once. Maybe it was some developmental changes and he needed the extra help and therapies we have been giving him.
We will never, ever know. But I know this. It is time to stop blaming myself for all the what ifs and the nevers and honestly, and truly move on. We are where we are. And where we are, is a pretty good place.
I had a conversation with Michael's teacher last week in which she used the word fine no less than 20 times. "He's fine. Everything's fine. His behavior is fine. There is nothing wrong with this child." And to go from where we were 4 months ago to FINE. I cannot even express. FINE.
The changes we have seen in him, they all encompassing and simply, remarkable. And it is everywhere, not just school. Michael has always been simply terrified of swimming. He would scream and make such a spectacle at group lessons that we pulled him out and enrolled him with a private teacher that got HIM. Got the issues. And her answer was "look I grew up on an island. Kids need to learn to swim, it's a safety issue." And I was like, "exactly. He doesn't have to be perfect, he just has to save his own life. My parents have a house at the beach for goodness sake. And my 8 year old nephew, his hero, is a very strong swimmer. If he wants to play with him in the water, he has to learn how to swim."
On Friday, on the way to swim class, he said to me, for the first time, instead of just complaining, he put it into words, the fear. "Mommy, I don't want to swim. I'm afraid." And I said "Michael, it is ok to be scared, but you have to do it anyway. You have to at least try."
And he did. He jumped in. He put his head under the water. He blew bubbles. He floated. He did strokes. He was FINE. And on Sunday, he remembered the pool had open swim, or what he calls "play swim." And he asked to go with Daddy. I got a manicure and pedicure.
He is excelling so much at Occupational Therapy the therapist doesn't think we will be seeing her for much longer. He is writing his name without a second thought. Something that was unthinkable two short months ago. He is starting to read. No one is using words like ADHD/ODD/SPD/LD to me anymore. The words I hear now are "typical 4 year old boy" and "high energy" and FINE.
When I wrote this I literally felt like I was going to drown in the worry. Like it was going to swallow me whole. I wasn't eating. I was barely sleeping. I had no idea where we were and where we were going and what tomorrow was going to look like. Words like fine were not even on the horizon. And I know now, that even in the future, if we have similar problems, things will be ok. Michael will be ok. Because Michael has worked so hard, we have all worked so hard, to get to his point. Not to perfect, not to spectacular, but to FINE. It is a perfectly wonderful word.
Doug and I are faced with making a decision I really don't want to make. It is re-registration time at Michael's school. And we can keep him there for Kindergarten, or send him to the the public school DOWN THE STREET for Kindergarten. And there are pros and cons to each approach and I have been mulling it over in my head for so long and I am so sick of thinking about it that I thought I would do the smart thing, ask the internet.
I could not make a decision when I applied to college, or when I applied to law school, and I ended up making a decision at the last possible moment, both times. For law school, my father had to messenger the check over to where I went, I decided so late. It is a good thing I picked a school in the city I lived in, who knows what would have happened if I picked the school in Boston I was looking at. Needless to say, I'm not good at making decisions. Remember how long it took me to change Michael's school when it was the right thing to do all along? Yeah, it is like that, AGAIN.
Michael has done so, so, well at this school, and I do really like it. The Montessori line is that kids transition better at first grade because Montessori builds up their confidence so much and teaches them so much that they are better prepared for first grade and blah, blah, blah. And that is great, But also, in this economy, what are they going to say to us? Send him somewhere else? I know their answers are going to be self-serving.
Don't get me wrong, this school has been fabulous for Michael. He has learned a ton, he is starting to read, his teacher is fantastic (and he would have the same teacher) and I adore the director. He is not having the same behavior problems and the few times a couple of issues have come up they have handled it in a reasoned and thoughtful manner with a very "he is a four year old boy approach" and not A THE SKY IS FALLING SCORCHED EARTH WE NEED TO DIAGNOSE HIM WITH EVERYTHING UNDER THE SUN APPROACH.
BUT:
It is REALLY expensive. And obviously I would do everything I can for my child, but we moved into a neighborhood with a very good public elementary school, can't he just go there since we have done all this testing and there is nothing wrong with this child? And it is so much more convenient, down the street, we can walk to it, instead of a 15 minute drive both ways.
And more importantly, I really, really, worry about transitioning to Michael to public school at first grade. We know he is going to go to public school at some point. Is it better to transition him at Kindergarten when everyone else transitions? Or give him another year to grow up a little? Does one year really matter?
Why is parenting so hard? Can't we just give them some cereal, throw them in front of the tv, and let them raise themselves?
Had none of the stuff that happened earlier in
the year happened, we would have just been happily sending Michael to
the local public school down the street without a second thought.
(Well maybe there would be a second thought. Do you know Kindergarten
in my school district is a ratio of one to 24? One to 24? That is
insane.) But all that stuff did happen and I'm not sure ignoring it and pretending it didn't is the answer.
I'd like to hear from parents who have done both. I'm sure you are out there. And the bottom line is, he will probably be fine either way, I'm just so scared of repeating the disaster that was earlier this year.
(For the record, Doug wants to keep him where he is. So there is that.)
