He's not just anyone, he's my son

Yesterday Logan came home with his first report card. I found it at the bottom of his bag, tucked neatly in a white envelope. I opened it- not know what it was.

Once I unfolded it, and figured out what it was my heart sank. I saw several Ns (to be expected) and felt a deep sadness*... but I wasn't surprised.

*It's one thing to know your son has a "delay" or isn't typical, and it's another thing to see it in black and white on a very official looking state approved report card.

The report listed the goals for this year (there were 6) and then gave a grade next to each one. M- mastered, S- satisfactory, and N- needs improvement. He got 2 Ns and 4 Ss.

Annual Goal that received an N:

• Circle time- participate for 15 minutes and answer simple questions.
  
• Demonstrate fine motor skills and coordination needed for writing.

There was also an entire page of accomplishments and tribulations. A couple things that stood out: "Logan is learning to do things more independently like open his own milk carton and food wrappers." and "Logan uses the bathroom independently with no accidents!".

When I read that I thought (insert sarcastic tone here) "great".

As I was driving today I prayed a prayer I've prayed many many many times. It went something like:

"I need to You to heal him. / Please Lord God give me the strength to help him grow into a strong man of God. / Free him of his OCD, Lord. / Help him not to be scared Father. Let him know You're there."

And Mark Schultz's song "He's my Son" came on the radio.

That's it! That's my song!

Now, I know that song is a tragic song about a terminally ill child- but I really felt like it described my prayer. He doesn't have a terminal disease (Thank You Thank You Thank You Jesus for that), yet he's a prisoner in his own mind. He's constantly telling me he has a stomach ache (worry) or he's scared (panic).

We're working on it Logan. I'm doing my best, I hope it's enough.

I'm down on my knees again tonight
I'm hoping this prayer will turn out right
See there is a boy that needs Your help
I've done all that I can do myself
His mother is tired
I'm sure You can understand
Each night as he sleeps
She goes in to hold his hand
And she tries not to cry
As the tears fill her eyes

CHORUS:
Can You hear me?
Am I getting through tonight?
Can You see him?
Can You make him feel all right?
If You can hear me
Let me take his place somehow
See, he's not just anyone
He's my son

Sometimes late at night I watch him sleep
I dream of the boy he'd like to be
I try to be strong and see him through
But God who he needs right now is You
Let him grow old
Live life without this fear
What would I be
Living without him here
He's so tired and he's scared
Let him know that You're there

CHORUS

Can You hear me?
Can You see him?
Please don't leave him
He's my son

Out of the Mouths of Babes (or Four Year Old) Updated Version

**UPDATE** Now that I have a little more time, I'm going to explain (and add to) some of Logan's... comments from this post.

Lily's sucking Mommy's penis- One day I was wearing a shirt that was "bumpy", and because Logan has a sensory issue he kept petting me. All. Day. Long. He was rubbing and rubbing and rubbing my boob! So, I said (over and over and over) "Logan, please stop touching Mommy." "Logan, please don't touch Mommy." So, finally, I said (in a firm loving manner) "Logan, that's private, please stop touching me."

A couple hours later he saw me nursing and said "Lily's sucking Mommy's penis" because I always tell him "Your penis is private, it's only for you" (partially cause I'm petrified of pedophiles."

MMMM CORN, THAT'S MY FAVORITE!

Me: Are you a boy or a girl? Logan: BOY! Me: Why? (he couldn't answer) Because you have a penis. Logan: Does Daddy have a penis? Me: Yes, he's a boy. Logan: Does Lily have a penis? Me: No, honey she's a girl. Logan: That's right, Lily has a butt.

Grammie, you have a diaper on!- My Mother-in-Law has back issues, and was wearing a back brace! Priceless :)

I can't want to!

I can't want it!

(Holding a tampon) Is this for your butt?

Don't stick the toilet paper inside me!

Out of the Mouths of Babes (or Four Year Old)

Okay, I don't have much time, so I will write an updated post with the explanations to (some of) these.

As most of you know, my son is (what I feel is) speech delayed (No need to beat a dead horse, I just still think it's utterly rediculous that he "doesn't fail enough" to get official speech therapy). Anyway, because he's made MAJOR advancements the past 8 weeks, he's been talking a whole lot more.

Here are some of the things he's said that have made me (and my husband) laugh at loud:

Lily's sucking Mommy's penis.

MMMM CORN, THAT'S MY FAVORITE!

Me: Are you a boy or a girl? Logan: BOY! Me: Why? (he couldn't answer) Because you have a penis. Logan: Does Daddy have a penis? Me: Yes, he's a boy. Logan: Does Lily have a penis? Me: No, honey she's a girl. Logan: That's right, Lily has a butt.

Grammie, you have a diaper on!

I can't want to!

I can't want it!


I have many more, but I don't want my chicken to burn. I'll update soon!

Better Late then Never

Forgiveness is hard. Especially when you have to forgive yourself.

As hard as this is to admit, when I look back at pictures of my son's first years, I feel a deep pain. I look at pictures of a perfect baby boy- and an ignorant mother. A mother that glosses over warning signs of a son that has special needs. I see a beautiful innocent boy that's crying for help- and a mother that's caught up in "life" to see it.

Here are some examples of some pictures that are painful view.

This is the ghost of Christmas past:

Christmas 2006 (Logan is 15 months)

Christmas 2007 (Logan is just over 2)


Christmas 2008

Notice every picture he has a phone. Why didn't I see it? Where was I? Why didn't I see it?

Ouch. I need to forgive myself.

At least I can see the fixation now. Better late then never.

Logan's One Month Evaluation

**I couldn't get pictures to upload- check back for photos**

On Friday we had Logan's one month Therapeutic Pre School Evaluation.

Every month the psychiatrist makes a home visit to discuss Logan's progress. This was our first evaluation- and I was eager to hear how he's been doing in school.

She said he's been doing really well riding the bus, following directions, and not being anxious. I was pleasantly surprised! She said he hasn't demonstrated anxiety characteristics in a while- and I was thrilled!!

She also mentioned that she and him have a special bond, and he lights up when he sees her. She said she loved working with him, and looks forward to watching him grow.


She said the areas he needs to work on are:

• Touching/throwing sand. This is one of his (many) sensory issues. He likes to feel the sand running through his fingers. She said he gets so fixated that they (his teachers) have to make it "off limits" some days.
• Touching other people. Logan will "pet" other people to feel their clothes, or body. The other kids don't like it- so he needs to work on keeping his hands to himsef.
• Pooping on the potty.
  
• Talking about the phone.
• Doing "The Claw" (he claws his hand at inappropriate times)
  

She gave me some more social stories* to read to him every night on:

• Eating too fast (I know, I was shocked too!)
• Chewing with your mouth closed
  
• Not interrupting
  
• Completing a request
• Getting the attention of others
• Hearing "No"
• Making a request
• Using a napkin (he uses his shirt-hehehehe)
• Showing affection
• Shutting the bathroom door

*A social story is a short story that gives children simple explanations to everyday tasks. Example: Little boys go to school./Little boys ride on the bus to school./Little boys stay seated on the bus./Little boys get off the bus./Little boys line up for class./Little boys go to school./Logan's going to school.

I know this seems trivial, but she used the term "next year". I guess he won't be graduating to "regular" preschool next year. Oh well, maybe kindergarten.

All Through the Town

The wheels on the bus go...

All through the town.

Or at least it feels that way!

Logan's first official day of school was 10/15, and because the bus wasn't scheduled in our area yet, I drove him and picked him up until the school district called me with the bus details.

Well, Wednesday was his first ride on the bus, and it went...well, as expected.

We were waiting in our front yard (yes we have a front door pick up-VERY rare, but very gooooood) playing, laughing, and talking. He was in high spirits, and was mildly excited to go to school. He told me about his friends, and teachers...

And then we heard it. Screeching around the corner came the biggest, baddest, scariest monster. It reached out it's arm and grabbed my son. As he was screaming "NO MOMMY NO MOMMY NO MOMMY" over and over and over again, this monster laughed and said "we're not coming back. Kiss him good bye FOR-EV-ER. Wah-ha-ha-ha-ha."

Okay, it didn't really go like that.

What really happened when that monster, aka the bus, came around the corner, Logan was excited. He loves all things with 4 or more wheels, and he's always been intrigued by buses. The bus stopped, and he climbed on in!

The bus driver introduced herself to me, and informed me that they were a mother/daughter team (the TPK bus has an aide on it). You could see the love that radiated from their faces. I felt as if Logan was climbing onto a bus with his Grandmother. They're both grandma's and have been driving buses for 22 years (that's almost as old as me!), so I felt very comfortable.

However, once Logan realized I wasn't going to be riding the bus with him, he got VERY upset. I reached out his hand, and looked at me with this disgusted look of betrayal... as if I had hurt his brand new puppy.

I left him, and ran in the house.

I. Felt. Terrible.

That was worse then his first day of school. I just kept repeating to myself (out loud, in a very soft voice) "it hurts, it hurts, it hurts, it hurts". and I started to tear up (not cry...tear up).

I climbed in the shower, as if to wash away some of the pain I was feeling. I wanted it off of me. I wanted the physical pain off me and down the drain.

I took a deep breath, and tried to forget about the time.

But I couldn't.

I really couldn't.

I thought about Logan in school, eating lunch, playing outside, napping. Wondering what he was doing each minute of the day.

Then, at 3 I sat outside waiting for him to come home.

As each minute passed, I more and more worried. "Was he okay, is the bus driver having to deal with a melt down, did he nap, did he eat, how did he do getting back on the bus..."

As the clock hit 3.40 I began to panic. "Maybe she got lost. If they're not here in 4 minutes, I'm calling the school."

And there it was. 3.43pm. The big yellow monster came screeching around the cornor to drop off my little monster.

And he did great.

The driver said he was an angel! Then asked me why he was being bused all the way to (xyz) school. I told her because of his developmental delays. And she said, "He doesn't sound delayed to me."

And my heart skipped a beat. He doesn't sound delayed to her... praise the Lord in Heaven.

Father, I know you hear my prayers, and I know You know my son. Watch him, Lord, when I can't. Hold him, Lord, when I can't.

I won't let you fall, Logan. I won't let you fall.

It tastes like sausage

He's already making progress, and it's only been ONE. WEEK.

I am truly amazed at the strength of my son. He started school- full time- and he's riding the bus (I'll blog about that later). What an awesome little man I have :)

He came home today, and sat down for dinner ( I know 4pm is early for dinner, but he's starving when he comes home). I made fancy sloppy joes (no bread), with rice and peas and salad. He also ate the left over rice noodles from the night before-I told you he's starving when he comes home.

So as always, I make him wash his hands before dinner (especailly when he's just come off the bus), but he wasn't having walking all-the-way (6 feet) to the bathroom. So, I just gave him some hand sanintizer I keep in the kitchen. As he's "washing", he starts singing a song about washing hands, and "be sure to wash the tops." UN-BE-LIEVEABLE!

Then, while he was eating he said "Mmmmm. This tastes like sauce-age." (It took me a couple seconds to figure out what he was saying, cause I wasn't sure if my ears were failing me or not-my son dosen't know the word sausage).

I said, "It tastes like_what?"

"SAUCE-AGE"

I was like, okay then.

wait, there's more.

Then, he walks over to the white board, picks up a dry erase marker and says "down, across" HE WROTE THE LETTER L. The letter L. I've been working on that for WEEKS, and he's in school 4 days and now he can write it! But that's not all. He can write L, AND O.

Then, he picked up a picture he colored, brought it over to me (as I'm writing this blog) and says "Look Mommy, I colored this with a crayon. A purple crayon."

I-AM-SHOCKED.

And last, but certainly not least, he hands me a piece of lettuce (a piece he rejected) and put it in my mouth, and said "swallow it, swallow it, swallow it" in a high pitched teaching voice. And when he saw that I did in fact swallow it, he cheered "yay, good swallowing Mommy".

I am a good swallower! And, by the way my pants fit, I think I've been swallowing pretty good for quite some time now.

I need to go now, cause he's writing his letters, and I need to cheer him on!

"Down. Across." "Down. Across." "Down. Across." "Down. Across."

Saved by the Bell

Logan had his first day of school last week! On Thursday, October 15, we made a leap of faith and dropped off our big boy at his first day of TPK- Therapeutic Pre Kindergarten.

Our morning started great. Logan woke up in high spirits, and was excited to "leave the house"... or so he thought.

When we left our house, I started to tear up. I thought about all those days I wasted complaining and not soaking him up. All the times I "wanted a minute alone" or was frustrated over his rituals. All that time. Gone. Like the blink of an eye. Gone.

I realized that today was the first day of his academic career, and that my sweet baby boy that I held in my arms just 4 short years ago, was growing up.

That was the longest drive of my life. The school is about 35 minutes from my house, so as I drove I thought a lot. I took a deep breath and remembered how I breathed him in on October 14 at 5.01 pm. The way he gazed at me with those goopy eyes, and how it felt to hold a life in my arms. When he was born, I was very ill, and can disticntly recall that day. When Dr. G showed me my little boy, and he started SCREAMING I thought to myself "I should be crying now". And when then they placed him on my chest (very breifly- only for a picture... that's how sick I was) I thought "He's going to fall, please, take him, HE'S GOING TO FALL". Looking at the pictures now, you can clearly see that the nurse was holding him and had placed him on my chest for a picture.

As we pull into the school, my heart sinks deep into my chest and I can feel my blood pulsating through my veins. I've been looking so forward to this day, and now it's here. All I wanted was one. more. day. But it was too late.

We parked the car, made a call (to the Grandmothers-for blessings of course) and walked to the teacher.

He said "Mommy, I'm very sick. We can't go to school."

I replied, "You're going to be great Logan. I love you, and I'll see you soon."

I gave him a kiss. And left. Like that day, four years ago, I thought "I should be crying now". But I didn't. I was sad, yes. But his time had come, and I was happy.

When I returned the teacher said he did GREAT! I was so happy that the day was over, and he was safe.

One day down. Fourteen years to go.

I won't let you fall, Logan. I won't let you fall.