Rescued … again

I’m thinking I’ve got you beat. I’ll bet my kids have been rescued by the lifeguard more times than yours have!

Zippy, especially when he was younger, would go under water at the city pool and stay there. He would just sorta sit there under water for a long time. The kid has pretty durn bad asthma, but, man, he could hold his breath under water. He would stay there. Just suspended half-way between the top and bottom. And just stay there. A long time. Long time.

When the young lifeguard(s) couldn’t stand it anymore, he/she would jump in and save him. Except the saving would nearly drown him! He would be peacefully relaxing, his little sensory-overloaded body in a very calm and relaxed state, when suddenly he was grabbed violently up out of the water! It would terrify him.

And it would always confuse the lifeguard(s) who really thought he/she was making a daringly brave rescue attempt.

This scenario played out more than a handful of times. Too bad we didn’t go to any one city pool often enough to let the lifeguards get to know Zippy and his floating-yet-not-drowning ways.

However, I don’t think Zippy was rescued even one time this summer. A first! This summer, more than any other, we really only swam at Mimi and Papa’s house and didn’t really frequent any city pool or water park. Would we make it a whole summer with no rescue?

I’m thinking so.

But Chloe nearly ruined it yesterday. She came really, really close to being rescued, and I can promise you it would’ve really surprised her.

Chloe has been loving floating on her back in her flotation suit this summer. She went to a friend’s birthday swim party at a nearby city recreation center. The center had a nice indoor pool which included a little lazy river. (But watching the rate at which the kids made it around that river, I’m thinking it’s not so lazy a river!) Chloe was floating by herself around and around and around the not-so-lazy river while I watched nearby.

I noticed one time around, she flipped up on her back and was loving the experience. How did I know she was loving it? Well, I could hear her growl over the noise of the river. Chloe has a happy growl that she uses when she is really enjoying something, and I am sure she was really loving the back-floating river experience by the intensity of her growl.

Enter in the young man on lifeguard duty. He sees, first of all, an awkwardly floating young girl making strange noises, not smiling. He goes into instant alert and concern. He takes half a step and alarmingly surveys the child’s situation. Indeed, the child must be in trouble because she’s still floating, moving in an awkward way, and making a strange, alarming sound. His neck lengthens as his alarm heightens. He takes another step toward the child.

I’m watching from the other end so I can’t communicate to the lifeguard at all. I am sure I am about to witness another of my children getting rescued from the pool.

As Chloe comes floating around the bend of the river and I see her a little more clearly, I laugh out loud at what I see as the lifeguard grabs his little red life preserver and jams his whistle in his mouth: my paler than pale little girl, floating oddly atop the water, motionless … and seriously appearing lifeless in her pale skin! I laugh, thinking of what that poor lifeguard is thinking and start swimming toward her.

I know I shouldn’t have laughed, but I couldn’t believe a Mastin was about to be rescued again!

Quickly I was on the move toward her — not to save her life but to save her mood. Being violently rescued by a stranger when your are happily in your own little peaceful space is not nice. I know this because Zippy has told me so!

As Chloe floated pale and motionless by me, I grabbed her by the arm and laughingly told her she could not float on her back at this pool — she was scaring people. She looked at me and with her eyes asked me to repeat that — it really didn’t make any sense.

I repeated, “You can not float on your back here, okay? You’re scaring people.”

She nodded okay and went on back around the river, careful not to flip up on her back again.

Later I talked to the young lifeguard and told him I had instructed her not to float on her back anymore since it was freaking him out. He genuinely thanked me, agreeing that he was very freaked out.

So there you go. I think I win! While none of my kids have been rescued by a lifeguard when their lives were in danger, my kids have been rescued — and nearly rescued — the most!

Getting Noticed

I have often said that our family tends to stick out like a sore thumb.

On the best of days, we are at least an inter-racial family which makes heads turn; and we have Chloe who is either in her wheelchair or is walking wobbly, fighting gravity with each step, which also causes folks to look. Add to that the days that one of the children is in a mood or is loud or ornery, the times when we have some extra equipment or whatever, and what you have is a family who really sticks out. We get noticed.

A good thing (I think) is that Paul and I are both ultra laid back so at least our anxieties or noise or activity don’t add to the picture in an annoying sort of way. (Unless folks are annoyed that we aren’t more bothered by our lives!)

But rest assured, our family cannot sneak into any place. No tiptoeing in for us! It is as though our presence is a magnet and the general population’s heads are attached to the other pole of the magnet, snapping them quickly in our direction as the spotlight lands right on us!

I’m sure it was no different today when at lunch time the kids and I walked into Discount Tire, seeking new tires for our van. I hopped out of the car and hurried to be next in line since the store seemed a little crowded. Zippy followed shortly after me and found a seat. Elliot got Chloe out of the car and carried her iPad for her and helped her walk into the tire place.

Chloe had to stop and rub on a couple of the tires on display that had little knobbies sticking up that made her giggle. Elliot stood patiently by and even reached over to see if the tires were everything Chloe was making them out to be. When Chloe had her fill of the knobbies, Elliot led her over to a seat and got her situated to wait — all while I stood in line at the counter.

A few minutes later, I walked out to the van with the tire guy to inspect the tires. As I walked back in the door, an older gentleman held the door open for me, and I could feel him looking intently into my face, begging me to look at him. When I looked up, I saw kind eyes … kind eyes that longed to return a blessing to me.

“I am so happy to see that big brother help his sister,” he said.

“Oh, thank you. He is a great big brother,” I said with a smile.

“He really is! Please tell him that I said so,” he added with sincerity. “He needs to hear that…. And so do you,” he finished.

And as I sat down, I couldn’t help but smile. Yes, we got everyone’s attention as usual. But today at least we were a blessing to one man.

It was interesting to me, too, how for the rest of the visit to the tire store, I was more aware of us being on stage.
I was more aware that people were watching.

Watching me feed Chloe her lunch of refried beans. Watching me sign “I love you” phrases back and forth with Zippy who sat across the room from me. Watching me clean up the floor after Chloe dropped her drink. Watching Elliot tell Chloe not to sit on the dirty floor. Watching my precious children waiting patiently and getting excited when the tire guy drove our van into the big garage. Watching Elliot support Chloe as she walked back outside to the van while I paid.

It’s nice to be able to bless others sometimes. And super nice when they tell us that we’ve blessed them!

So with 4 new tires and 4 happy hearts, we went on our way, continuing our errands.

Our Side of the Street

Seems our house is the neighborhood hang-out, which I really like for the most part. Ours is the driveway where everyone congregates to play basketball. Ours is the yard where the mega sword fights take place. Ours is the front door where all the kids line up for their pick at Zippy’s arsenal of Nerf swords.

And since the weather has been so nice lately, the boys have been playing outside more and more. And something that’s made a big difference in their outside play: a bunch of the once-tiny boys on our street are now big enough that their parents are letting them come down the street to play with my boys. And at least a couple of them are surprisingly … ummmmm … noticeably … ummmm … strikingly … crazy and loud and a tad-bit frightening with a sword. You get the picture.

One day this week, Zippy was outside playing with a multitude of small boys, involved in a rigorous and serious Nerf sword battle. There was much screaming and wailing so I went outside to check it out. I am not yet used to the screams and wails of these newly-grown neighbor boys so I couldn’t tell if their screams were from pain, fear, anger, fury, or fun. Seems they were mostly screams of fun with just a tad bit of fury which is the tad-bit frightening part I mentioned earlier. I decided I had better stick around and keep an eye on these new, wild boys.

As I watched, the boys ran, screaming and wielding their swords, from one side of the street to the other. And back again. And back again. It was really a scene to take in.

Now, I should tell you that our street is not a busy one. Not many cars travel down our street. But some do. And oftentimes those cars travel faster than I wished they would.

Well, what I noticed was that the boys (including my 10 year old) would run across the street without ever glancing up to check for cars. On the rare occasion they did look up to check for cars, they did so in the middle of the street. We all know that if you wait until you are in the middle of the street to look for cars, chances are you will get squished by one before you decide to look up. This was not okay.

I called Zippy over to where I was standing. I told him no more crossing the street in the middle of a sword fight. “Either you choose that side of the street and stay there, or you choose our side of the street and you stay there.” I checked for understanding. It was clear that he heard and understood my meaning as he repeated it back to me.

And he ran off to play again, obviously choosing our side of the street as he hollered to all the boys to come over to our side and to stay there. And pretty quickly the crazy battle migrated over to our side of the street.

It wasn’t but a couple of minutes later that I spotted Zippy in the street. Flabbergasted, I called him over to me again.

“You are done. Go inside. You’re done playing,” I said, shaking my head.

“What did I do??” Zippy begged to know.

I looked at him with disbelief. “You were in the middle of the street!” I nearly yelled.

And then as serious and as genuine as he could be, he revealed to me exactly how little he had understood my instruction. He reminded me just how literal he is and how very careful I must be when giving him commands or instructions. “I wasn’t in the middle. I was on our side! You told me to stay on our side of the street!”

And I stopped.

He was right. As I replayed it in my mind, I could see him clearly on our half of the street. He carefully had stayed on our side of the street — not veering to the center of the road, but staying way to our side of the street. In the street, but on our side… of the street.

I laughed out loud and hugged him close to me. I re-explained what I meant by wanting him to stay on our side of the street. “I mean stay on the lawns on our side of the street. But no road. If your feet are in the street at all, you are disobeying. Do you understand?”

And I think this time he did. And he obeyed carefully.

Her Voice

Delight!

Recently I also delighted in the sound of Chloe’s voice. Chloe is 10-years-old and is mostly nonverbal. When she vocalizes something, we notice. And we smile. And we’re proud. And we think it’s precious.

We were at a group Bible study recently at a friend’s house. Chloe was back in the little girls’ room playing toys. And several times she mimicked a talking toy. I heard her clap a couple of different times. She talked off and on, unaware that anyone was listening.

But I was listening. I heard it. And it made my heart glad. It was difficult to follow the adult conversation because I was so taken by the sound of Chloe’s voice in the next room.

I love that precious little girl. And anytime she is talking, it makes me stop and listen. And my heart is so filled with singing and smiling.

Keep it up, little one!

Delighting Today

As most of you know, I chose a word for 2012. A word to focus on. A word to sorta guide me. A word to remind me.

Delight.

My word for 2012 is Delight. It has been more of a challenge to Delight than I was expecting. It is so easy to get wrapped up in the daily struggles, big and small. It is so easy to get carried away with my to do list each day.

But today I delighted.

I went away for the weekend on a church women’s retreat. I was gone for 2 nights, and Paul took care of everything single-handedly. (Well except for a few hours when my sis-in-law had Zippy and Chloe.) Coming home, I was excited to see my family. Don’t know if you’ve noticed before, but I rather like my husband and my kids. They are my life, and they complete me. I adore them. I breathe easier when we’re all together and accounted for.

So coming home was a nice feeling of expectancy and reuniting.

Elliot was the first one I saw. He ran across the parking lot to greet me. He was genuinely pleased to see me and told me that he missed me.

Then I greeted Zippy who is always glad to see me. Even when I’m gone for only an hour, he often greets me as though I’ve been away for a week. I love that kid.

And then I said Hi to Chloe. When she heard my voice she looked up into my eyes for longer than she usually does, seeming to take it all in and making sure it really was me. It was a sweet look. And then I made her give me a sweet kiss.

And then I saw Paul and was genuinely glad to see him and to touch him.

I was home. And all was well. 🙂

She Knows!

A friend of ours is our number one respite care provider for our kids. Zippy refers to her lovingly as his 2nd mama. She adores my kids, and the feeling is forever mutual.

This week she bathed Chloe. During the bath the bath water got dirty, as is often the case with bathing a dirty child. She was draining the dirty water and planning to refill with clean water so Chloe could continue to play in the bath tub. Chloe started to put the washcloth in her mouth to suck on it, but the sitter told her NO, explaining that the water is dirty … you don’t want that in your mouth … that’s yucky … don’t put that in your mouth … I’m draining the water to get some cleaner water … this water’s dirty … we don’t want this water in your mouth … it might make you sick … it’s yucky … this is very dirty … don’t put that in your mouth …

And Chloe turned and looked right at her, and clear as a bell and with a little exasperation in her voice said, “I KNOW!”

As you can imagine, the sitter thought it was hysterical and very clearly got the message that Chloe wanted her to shut up about the dirty water and the washcloth!

Love my girl making herself perfectly clear! 🙂

I Finally Did It…

I finally did it.

I committed the unpardonable sin.

I’m not surprised. I figured it was coming, and I knew I was completely capable of doing it. Any mom is in danger of committing it; and probably most of us eventually follow through and actually do it.

Yes, I committed the unpardonable sin.

I completely and totally –100% entirely — embarrassed my child.

The scene: dropping off my junior high son in the drop-off line at school; several other junior high students milling about on the sidewalk and porch; Elliot walking to the building, approximately 35 feet from the car.

I suddenly remembered that I didn’t know what time to pick him up. Was he staying for student council after school, or did I need to pick him up at the regular time?

And then I did it. I knew at the time that it was probably a mistake. My heart knew that I was messing up and that I would not be able to turn back or take it back.

But I did it anyway.

I rolled down the window, and hollered out the window: “Elliot!”

And there. It was done. It was unpardonable. And it was done. It was out there.

I watched as Elliot melted with absolute and utter embarrassment right there on the porch of the school. I watched, wincing with pain, as he turned his face to the bricks of the porch and attempted to disappear from sight. Realizing he could not disappear, he proceeded to nearly turn himself wrong-side-out and shoot me the quickest of tiny glances to see what in the world could be so dire that I would dare shout his name in front of all of these people.

It was too late to turn back. I knew it would be.

So I shouted again. “3:15?”

Elliot stood, still attempting to melt into the bricks, not even looking my way. And I thought I detected the very slightest of nods, agreeing that 3:15 was the correct time. But I couldn’t be sure that that really was a nod.

He was beginning to convince me that the entire world was staring, pointing, and laughing at us both for this unbelievable act committed by a dorky mother right here in the drop-off line in front of everyone.

“3:15?” I shouted again, this time also signing the time just in case he couldn’t hear my yelling voice.

I immediately got the message that signing while yelling at a junior high boy is even worse than just yelling at a junior high boy. Oh, boy. This was getting worse by the moment.

I would surely burn in Hell for this.

Elliot looked at me ever-so-slightly with a look of sheer desperation and gave me a nod that accompanied a look of … well, a look that said something that Elliot is really not allowed to say to his mother.

Elliot once more stuck his face in the bricks of the building until he was sure that the insane yelling from the mini-van had stopped, and he turned and headed into the building, out of sight of the multitudes of teenagers who were surely laughing and pointing and texting and tweeting about the horrific scene out in front of the school.

And I sat there, alone in the pick-up line, ashamed of how I’d behaved. I knew that I had finally committed the unforgivable sin — the one that Elliot will probably hold against me until I go to my grave … and perhaps even beyond the grave.

Yes, I was one of those moms. And I was ashamed.

(Or at least I pretended to be ashamed after I laughed out loud at my funny, horrified, ruined-forever pre-teen boy!)

What A Week!

Glad it’s over!

A week ago today, Elliot got stung on the eye by a bee and swelled up like a great big red and purple balloon. A couple of hours later, after who-knows-what-the-whole-story-is, Chloe had to be on the school bus for TWO HOURS. I was not a happy mama.

The next day started with Chloe and a stomach virus. Elliot later joined her in the fun of the virus.

Paul was the next to fall, coming home from work and going to bed.

Then came me. I am not one to miss a party! I spent a day in the bed with the virus and the next day in the bed with a migraine — probably from dehydration.

Elliot and Chloe were home all week from school. Ugh. Makeup work won’t be fun.

And then yesterday, one of my children got provoked by a particularly maddening student in his class and responded in a way that was unwise. (Being vague purposely for protection’s sake. 😉 Some of you detective-types may be able to put the pieces together, I realize!) My child was devastated by his choice and by his pronounced sentence: detention during recess and lunch. He literally cried himself to sleep after school. While inside I think this particularly maddening student got what was arguably deserved, I mostly just hope this terrible experience will keep my child walking the straight and narrow for a long time. Like forever.

To top it all off, today it’s cold and rainy. I’m a wimp and don’t like the cold.

But it’s Friday. And next week is spring break.

I love Fridays. And I love spring break even more!

Bring. it. on!

Delight!

Update on my Word for 2012.  I am delighting in:

• spring-like weather!
• Chloe’s throwing a big ol fit to express her frustration
• basketball season with my boys
• watching Wheel of Fortune with the family
• the boys playing together
• Chloe dribbling, dribbling, dribbling the basketball
• an evening with nothing to do
• a freshly-mowed lawn
• finally discovering what was stinking up my fridge!
• new air fresheners
• new batteries
• a clean bathroom
• a new shirt
• friends who “get it”
• celebrating my nephew’s graduation from Basic Training in the Air Force!
• bedtime ritual with Zippy of reciting a special poem while rubbing his cute face
• holding Zippy’s hand while walking across a parking lot
• hearing Elliot practice drums/bells
• Chloe voting NO! to going to her brothers’ basketball games
• making progress on some goals that I set for this year
• speaking of, feeling like I’ve conquered the new “one space after a period” rule!
• playing Words With Friends with Elliot

… Yes, I’m delighting! 🙂

Taken By The Color

by Kelly Mastin

There on the homework so mundane,

My fingers pointing at the words we read,

I stop, surprised by what I see, sitting there in front of me.

There atop my hand, sits his.

Connected — mother and son are we.

But once again I am reminded. Once again I am surprised.

Can we be so different? My son so different from me?

My hand is pasty pale, but his is dark and brown.

Mine shines bright white, nearly pink,

While his is warm and brown.

How did I forget we were different? How could I be surprised?

I stare at our hands: So different. So diverse. So beautiful. So right.

And my heart interprets: It’s unity and sameness. It’s family and love.

Our hands tell our story — of adoption, redemption, and love.

I capture a mental snapshot of our hands there together.

Light and dark, white and brown –contrasting yet entwined.

Then, poof!  The flash of the bulb causes the clock to tick again.

And we’re back to doing homework, back to the mundane.

Back to being just my son and me.