Hope in Front of Us

Life with Avery has been particularly rough lately.  I know what's going on, but feel powerless in helping him, in fixing it, in being able to do anything about it.  I am merely a bystander--a very tired, worn out, sad, bystander.  We are in the midst of ADHD-OCD-ODD hell, and he's only six years old. Our med-eval in two weeks feels light years away.  My prayer at this point is that we can hit the nail on the head with the right medication and right dosage the first time.  My child needs help.  I'm losing hope.

There was a time, before Noah's diagnosis, I would send him off to school in the morning, then wait.  I hated opening my email.  I jumped and broke out into a sweat when the phone rang.  I had to psych myself up to go pick him up.  Inevitably, I would get the email from the teacher, the phone call, or be pulled aside at pick up.  "Do you know what Noah did today?"  "We had another issue with Noah today."  "Noah had to be removed from the classroom again today."  There were days I dreaded sending him back.  With the stress of it all, I lost 45 pounds, and most of my mind.  Our marriage suffered, Noah suffered, none of it was ever good.

This is the point we've reached with Avery, now.  Each day this week, it's been something new.  There was a Category 6 meltdown when I took a different route to school than Shawn takes.  A major temper tantrum when I told him he couldn't wear long sleeves.  Then he destroyed several articles of clothing, had to be removed from the cafeteria during lunch, was rude to the substitute, homework is a nightly two hour battle--the list goes on.  When the counselor pulled me aside yesterday at pick up, it was kind of the last straw.  I felt so defeated I couldn't even react.  When she asked me if this is fairly normal for him, I wearily shook my head yes.  I thanked her for the way the cafeteria situation was handled, collected my child, and left.  There are times Avery shows little remorse, and when he does, it's the kind of remorse a person shows only when they know they should, but don't quite feel it.  He is indifferent to discipline, seeming to just not care that his behavior has consequences. His self esteem is suffering, and he, my charismatic, usually happy, extroverted child, has not made any friends in school so far this year.  He does not appear to understand the ramifications of his behavior, or  how it affects his relationships with others.  When we put him to bed last night, he asked why I'm sad and I lost it.  Crying, I explained that his behavior makes me sad.  When he doesn't listen, when he's naughty on purpose, I'm sad.

I've not been feeling hopeful.  I'm losing my mind.  I am battle weary.  I'm gaining weight.  My marriage is suffering again, our entire family is in chaos.  I don't go to bed at night and rest, I go to bed and think, "It all starts again in eight hours."  I lay awake praying the next day will be different.  I worry that by diagnosing him, we are allowing him to skirt responsibility for his behavior and actions, then I worry I'm too hard on him over things he possibly can't control. I pray that Scouts and sports will help.  I worry that if things are this bad now, what could that possibly mean for his teen years, and I pray we can get to him in time before it comes to that.  As with Noah's process several years ago, there are days I want to walk out of the house and just leave.  I don't feel strong enough to do this.

I went back in my archives and found some of the posts I wrote during Noah's process, because I just need hope.  I re-read several posts, and wow, Noah has come so far in these past five years! I never thought we'd get through it, but we did.  I look at where he is now with life and I'm speechless.  He gives me hope for Avery.  I have to remind myself it is a process. I know we will get through this. None of this will happen overnight.  I also have to remind myself that this is part of God's plan for Avery, as it is with Noah,  and certainly not the end.  Somehow, this will all work for His good, right?  God's got this, even when I don't.  I don't have to be strong enough to do this, because God already is.

I'll Be the One Wearing the Strait Jacket with Duct Tape Over My Mouth

I've avoided organized sports with my kids.  Like the plague.  Not necessarily as a rule, not because I don't want my kids to be in them, not because I don't like them, or I'm lazy, or I myself am not athletic.   I'll be honest, I've avoided them because of the other parents.

The arm chair quarterbacks.  The screamers.  The hecklers and trash talkers.  The adults reliving their glory days through their five year olds.  The parents who want to argue every play and call made by the coaches and referees.  The parents who want to argue about playing time.

I can't stand the kill-or-be-killed mentality so many parents are drilling into their children on the field, the court, the track, the ice.  I can't handle the blatant abuse, ridicule and disrespect badly disguised as healthy criticism and cheering.  It's gotten out of hand.  It's not behavior I choose to participate in, nor is it behavior I even understand.  I think one of the more appalling things about this behavior is that it isn't targeted just at the other teams, coaches and referees, but also at their own children, and their children's teammates.  This behavior does not build strong men and women, it tears down little boys and girls.  I don't like that sports are no longer about having fun, making friends, getting some exercise and learning good sportsmanship.  It's no longer just about being a kid.  Rather, it's all about winning, it's all about being the best. You are nothing without a win.  Parents are taking the emphasis off teamwork, and moving it to individual pressure.  None of this is done in the name of encouragement.  It's done in the name of being the best, with the best defined as those with the trophy and medals.  He who dies with the most bragging rights, wins.  Organized sports, especially at the younger ages, should be about social skills, and emotional growth and development.

This is the message we are sending our children from the stands: You are only worthy of my love when you are winning.

It disgusts me.

We are no longer teaching our children that some win and some lose, and in that process, how to lose--and win--gracefully.  To be clear, I am not one of those "everyone gets a trophy" moms, either.  In that mentality, we are no longer teaching our children that hard work pays off.  Instead, we are teaching entitlement.

The time has come, however.  I am now an organized sports mom.  I come complete with the SUV covered with team stickers, in case you were wondering. I love my kids, I want them to be happy and well rounded, and well, participating in sports is part of that.  My kids need this.  I will be praying that my children are the light to their teammates, that they will have good, positive, encouraging coaches, for the other teammates and their parents, and most of all, that they will have fun, and, as cheesy as it sounds, that it only matters how you played, not whether you won or lost.  I want my children to learn that I love them no matter what, and my pride comes from a job well done, hard work, and respect shown to their coaches, referees, teammates and the other teams--not a game won or lost.  Please don't misunderstand me, I would love for my children to know the joy of winning, but I want these other things for them more.

Already, I have found myself shouting, "YOU'RE DOING A GREAT JOB" and clapping my heart out, embarrassing my son hoping to drown out the naysayers and negativity.  What I really want to say is, "Hey jerk, let's see you out there doing it better!" I know that is not the example I want to set for my children, so I will continue with my campaign of encouragement instead. And maybe a few dirty looks.

I have promised myself I will behave.  I have promised my children and my husband I will conduct myself in a respectful, respectable manner towards these other parents.  I have have promised I will not say what's really on my mind.  If you know me well enough, you know this is not my strong suit. So, if you happen to see a woman in the stands wearing a strait jacket and duct tape over her mouth, give me a wave, and shout something encouraging to the teams.

"Be an encourager.  The world has too many critics already."

Dave Willis

Be Kind

I have dragged out my soapbox, dusted it off, and am now standing squarely on it.  Something touched a nerve today, so here I am, sounding off.  Again.

Why do we judge other moms?  Why do we even think their choices are any of our business?  Here's the thing:  Nothing about their lives really are our business.  Ask yourself: are their children happy, healthy, (relatively) clean, loved and cared for?  If the answer is yes, then--well, stay out of it.  As long as that mom is not committing illegal, reportable, neglectful or even questionable offenses, stay out of it.  Do not insert opinion here.

Just because she is doing the all-encampassing 'it' differently than you does not make her wrong.  Nor does it make your own choices wrong--or even right.  There are very few instances that make a person an expert in any area, and even fewer instances that beg for those experts to impart their knowledge, especially when they've not been asked.  Unfortunately, there are far too many self-imposed experts who don't see things that way.  When you impose your opinions and views on another, you are not speaking with wisdom and love, nor is the receiving person being enriched.  Instead, you are being bossy and pushy. You are distancing yourself and that person with a wall of judgement and criticism.  Your message is lost in your argument.  You are not being helpful, you are being rude and obnoxious.  Another thing to remember is that just because 'it' works for your family, does not mean 'it' will work for another.

Some moms have many children, and some only have one.  Some moms use formula, others choose to breastfeed.  Some moms homeschool, while others send their children off to private or public school.  Some co-sleep, others use cribs.  Some moms have their children early in life, while others wait.  Some like their children's ages spaced out, others prefer stair steps.  And I can't forget one of the hottest debates around: Some moms stay home, while others work outside the home.

Some of these decisions aren't always choices made out of desire, but instead, made out of circumstances.  Sometimes those decisions are forced on us, just because that's how things roll.  In the realm of personal choices, it's no one's business but our own, and our spouse's, and in cases of faith, God's.

It is not up to us to question those choices.  There are questions I do not ask, things I do not assume, and words I do not say, just because of what has been asked, assumed and said to/of me over the years.  I know how much those things hurt, and how long they echo.

God created us all differently, and for good reasons.  How boring would it be if we all behaved the same, acted the same, thought the same--and raised our children the same?  If we all had the same opinions and made the same choices?

Speak in love.  Be kind.  Choose your words wisely.  Be aware of your audience, especially when that person's children are present.  Be supportive, be encouraging.  And if you don't have something nice to say, keep it shut.

In Your Absence: Measuring Parental Success

There is a bit of parenting advice I've carried with me for years, and it's gotten me through those "What in the world am I doing" days.  It had nothing to do with potty training, sleeping through the night, getting them off on that first day of school, or getting them to eat their vegetables.

What this person told me, in a time of personal desperation with Noah, was worth its weight in gold.

That day, another parent was telling me all the wonderful things Noah was doing when she saw him  in school: How polite he was, how courteous and kind, how he always waved and said hello when he saw her in the hallway, that he was opening doors and helping others.  I remember thinking, "Are we talking about the same Noah?"  For several years, when I met with teachers, I was met with only complaints and negativity.  At home, we had similar struggles.  I always worried about how he was behaving when I wasn't there to remind him of his manners.  I shared my thoughts with this other mom, and she shared this bit of advice with me:

"The measure of success as a parent is when he's doing the things you're teaching him in your absence, even if he's not getting them when you're around."

So, give yourselves a break today, Mom and Dad.  Chances are good, if you're teaching them these things, they are remembering them when you're not around.  Home is their safe place, where they don't necessarily remember manners and they can be slobs, knowing they won't be judged, and will still be loved.

Give yourselves the room to breathe, and relax a bit.  They're getting it.

Manners

Warning:  This is a rant.  Yep.  A rant about manners.  They aren't that hard to use, people.

In raising boys, one of my goals is to raise gentlemen.  Boys turning into men who open doors, remember their manners, are polite to others, complimentary, and courteous.

I will tell you--it's really hard when they aren't encouraged by others.  It makes my job that much more difficult.  They start wondering why they should bother.   Should my children always expect a turnaround from the receiving person?  No, but how hard is a smile and a quick, "Thanks"?

One of my pet peeves is people who can't be bothered to thank my children when they hold doors open. I've watched entire families walk through the door, entire groups, as I wait on my child, and not one single person so much as glanced at him.  On occasion, I've been known to call out "You're welcome!  Have a fantastic day!"  I may or may not mutter something else under my breath after that.  I have thanked the people who do thank my children, explaining that it encourages them to continue the good, polite behavior.

Avery is pleased with himself when he holds a door open.  He knows he's doing something right, and something nice.  He knows he's being a gentleman, he likes doing it, and it makes him happy.  I've taught him to wish the person a good day, and smile.  In some cases, I've watched as my children run ahead of a person just to open the door.  They've also recently been racing each other to see who can get there first.  Only my kids could turn manners into a contest.  *sigh*  Please don't knock down the little old lady, boys....

When my children are polite enough to help you, when any child is polite enough to help you, please don't ignore that child's efforts.  They are young and impressionable, and they need our encouragement. Their parents are working hard to raise good children.  Please encourage them, please thank them, please engage them in a short, quick conversation. This helps develop language and social skills, and lets them know they're on the right track.  You know what?  Maybe you could also encourage that child's parents.  We need to hear more of that, just as much as our children do!

If you aren't encouraging these future adults, you are discouraging them.  And, if you are discouraging them, please don't complain about 'kids today.'  In that respect, you are part of the problem, not the solution.

Thank you.

I hate ADHD

Sounds harsh.  But it's true.  I know that sounds horrible and bitter.  Some days, reality hits harder than others (this might be one of those days).  I just want one day when ADHD doesn't invade our mealtimes, homework times, chore times, life in general.  I want one day without a stranger in public staring at me with "Lady!  Get your kids under CONTROL!  What is WRONG with them????" eyes.  I want one day without feeling like I'm nagging my children, one day without reminder notes posted over our entire home (one day without reminding them to read the reminder notes....), one day without the stress of having forgotten or lost something, or just plain losing my mind.  I just want to get through one day focused, attentive, aware, and well, dare I say it??  Normal.

Then I remember: This is our normal.

Get over it and get used to it, right?

I know there are things my kids cannot help.  We've never allowed them to use it as an excuse, or a reason for not doing something.  Having this diagnosis means they just have try a little harder, or do things differently.  Many times, it means redefining success.  Sometimes, I hold them to higher expectations because I want them to know they can do something, rather than make excuses, or fall back on what's easier.  I do my best to teach them and help them mature and grow in the areas they struggle.  I am not a lazy mother.  My kids have these differences due to genetics and brain chemistry.

Lately though, I am just really pulling my hair out.  I fear for my children and their futures. I feel like I'm not doing my job well enough for them.  They are the ones with the diagnoses, but the entire family suffers.  The entire family is in turmoil when others can't settle down, calm down, concentrate, sit or complete a task, when things are repeatedly lost, broken, tipped over or forgotten.  It's frustrating, and at times, downright maddening. There are nights I go to bed exhausted, angry, frustrated and in tears.  There are days that feel like that movie with Bill Murray, Groundhog Day--here we goooo again! I watch my kids struggle, and it pains my heart.  It also stresses me out.  I am fearful for what their futures hold if we cannot get this under control and teach them how to work with it, rather than them allowing it to work against them.  I just want my kids to be successful and happy.

We've made the decision to start Avery on medication. He was diagnosed back in May; it's early by most standards, but after 14 years of Noah, I knew what we were dealing with.  In an effort to be proactive, I've already met with the school; his teacher, only a week in, has already identified difficulties he is having, and that devastates me.  I'm pleased with the school's response, but more still needs to be done for him. His self esteem is suffering as we have to speak to him more frequently, as he becomes more aware of how he behaves and acts in comparison to most of his peers.  We really had hoped to hold off and work with him a bit more, but he is frustrated, and feels powerless and out of control.  I see the look on his face each time we have to reprimand him repeatedly, and I know it's time.  I need to get to him now before it's too late.

I used to judge parents who medicate.  I thought for sure they were taking the easy way out.  Oh my goodness, especially those parents with more than one child on medication! Then, after exhausting numerous therapies for Noah, I approached the pharmacy counter in tears and filled the prescription we'd been given.  I felt like I was giving up on him.  When we got home, I prayed over that bottle of pills and that first dose.  I prayed that God would provide relief for Noah.  We saw almost an immediate improvement once we found one that worked.  I felt so much guilt for holding out on him.  I saw how much easier things suddenly were for him, and became a believer.  We've kept other therapies in place, and Noah's learned to make life with ADHD and Aspergers work for him.  He still has his struggles, but if you could've seen him 6 years ago before medication, you'd know the difference is a positive one.

Medication does not mean I'm giving up on my children. Medication does not make me a bad mother.  I'm not taking the easy way out.  In fact, I've learned that medication is sometimes the furthest from the easy way out.  There are side effects, sometimes dietary restrictions, and oh, the trial and error process of trying to find the right medication.  It's painful.  For the past several years, Noah has had to choose between being able to function (medicated) over gaining weight and growing to his full potential, due to some of the side effects. I love my children more than I hate the idea of medication and ADHD, and my children deserve the best I can give them.  In this case, it means adding medication to the other therapies and behavioral plans in place.  Medication is not a cure all.  It's a boost up, not a cop out.

If you have not personally wrestled with such a decision, please don't judge those of us who have.  Chances are good, we're beating ourselves up already, and we don't need your two cents.  Sometimes, the road to such a decision causes even more turmoil within the family, and puts stress on marriages.  I'm tired of defending my decisions to those who don't understand, and I'm tired of feeling so defensive.  I'm doing the right thing for my children, and for our entire family.  And please, for the love of God, don't lecture us about alternative therapies and extra extracurricular activities, or regale us with stories about your cousin's uncle's dog's brother's sister who had it and was cured when she drank special water/ate an exotic food/wrapped herself in cellophane (seriously, you wouldn't believe some of the things I've heard).  If it's a legitimate therapy, and sometimes, even if it isn't, we've probably tried it. No need to second guess our parenting decisions and skills. You might think you're helping, but you're not.  Medication is not a decision we make easily or lightly.  You wouldn't hesitate to give a diabetic child insulin, or chemo to a child with cancer, so I don't understand why this issue is such a debate.  It separates and divides us, when what we need, as moms, is to be drawn together supporting each other.  Be kind.  We're all fighting our own battles.

That's MY Boy

It's no secret that I like to brag about my kids. I love them, I'm proud of them, and as a SAHM, my world kind of centers around them.  It's pretty obvious as you scroll through my Instagram feed, there's picture after picture of my children.  Sure, there's the occasional animal, pet, scenery or snarky moment photo--but mostly, it's my boys.  I know they are far from perfect, but I think they're the best people ever.  Yes, even on the days they turn my hair gray, cause me to question my sanity, and get on my last frazzled nerve--they are the best people ever.  Even when they are most certainly not the best people ever, they still are.

They seem to take turns being questionable human beings, so thankfully, I'm not always hit with it all at once.  I can usually count on at least one to behave and make my heart swell with maternal pride while the other one(s) are making me wonder whose children they are as I scan our backyard, the grocery store, church or Chik Fil A for their mother...

One of the things that particularly makes me smile--those moments that make my heart full and cause that hitch in my breathing (the one that usually signals joyous tears are about to pour)--is when I see the lessons I'm desperate for my children to learn coming to fruition.  It's often a struggle between what we, the parents, are trying to teach our children, and what society and the schools are teaching them.

We are a Christian family.  There are certain things we know to be true, and other things we know to be false. Our pastor recently finished a message series about what, and how, we need to be teaching our children, raising them up, preparing them to lead and stand up for their beliefs.  We are in a fight for our children: their lives, their hearts, their souls.

All of that came to fruition recently, on Noah's first day of school.

One of Noah's teachers brought up the theory of evolution.  Noah raised his hand ("I said 'Respectfully sir,' so that makes it okay, right, Mom?") and stated that he was not formed from some kind of unidentifiable goop, but he was formed in his mother's womb by his Father, God.

Do you see me jumping with joy?????  He's listening!  He's listening to me, our pastor, his youth group leaders--he's listening!  And he's putting it into practice!!

When the teacher went on to question if anyone else in the class had a religion, Noah again, respectfully, corrected the teacher.  "Sir, it's not about religion.  It's about relationship.  It's my belief, and it's what I know to be true."

Yes, that's MY boy.  That's God's son, and he's one of the best people ever.

Get Over It, Mom!

Avery challenges me.  Daily.  Some days, hourly.  He challenges my patience, my lack of parenting skills, my knowledge and my energy.  He challenges me in my introversion to step outside of my comfort zones as I raise him as God created him.  He challenges me to try things I wouldn't otherwise want to do.  Avery also challenges my faith, and how I practice my faith....  "Mom.  Pastor Greg and Pastor Jon say we have to pray with the voice we sing with.  And you sing REALLY LOUD."  I know without a doubt that God gave me Avery in order to grow me and stretch me!

Recently, Avery has been challenging my fear.

Avery has been desperate to ride the school bus.  I'm not so desperate for him to ride the bus.  He still looks so small to me.  What if he forgets his stop, or isn't paying attention?  What if there's an accident? There are no seat belts, the bus driver has to diligently divide her/his attention between the road and at least 50 kids, and there are all manner of things he will learn on a school bus with older kids that I am not ready to explain to him.  Yes, I'm fearful.  Last year I was able to make the case that he was still in a car seat, and being able to shuttle him to and from school was one of the reasons I stay home.  I explained that those few minutes in the car with just him each morning and afternoon were our time, just for us, no interruptions, no one else to listen in or talk.

Have I mentioned how quick-witted Avery is?  This year he made the case that he's out of the car seat and in a booster (albeit, a high-backed bubble wrapped one), and we're never alone in the car anymore because Ezra is there, too.  Point: Avery.  This year parent pick up is a bit different, as I have to go into the school, which means taking Ezra out and standing in line in the heat, rain, snow and cold, rather than just pulling up to a curb and Avery hopping in.  Yes, it's a bit of a hassle, but it's a hassle I've chosen to deal with.  It's not the hassle Avery wants to deal with.  Yes, a bus might be a little more convenient this year.

We are three days into the school year, and I have heard no fewer than 194859383 times how much he wants to ride a bus. I've told him it is my job to protect him, that's what I get to do as his mom.  He also knows my fear, as I've told him I worry about his safety on a school bus.

"MOM!  You NEED to get over your FEAR!"  Completely exasperated with me, Avery took that chance to remind me that he is God's child first (you know those moments when you hear your own words coming out of your child's mouth and you realize they were actually listening???), God will protect him, and I shouldn't be afraid because "God says we shouldn't."  The mouths of babes.

So, here I am.  Slowly working up the courage to allow my little bird to clip the apron strings just a bit more, and working even more on the urge to not follow the bus as it pulls away with a piece of my heart on board.

I'm working on it kid, I'm working on it.

Back To School

Dearest Children, Preteens, Teenagers and Young Adults,

Soon, you will be heading back to school.  Some of you are excited about your very first day of preschool or kindergarten.  Others are beginning or finishing up high school.  Maybe you are heading off to college.  What you think might be your parents cheering as the bus pulls away, or as you walk away from our cars, is really us trying to put on a brave face and not let you see our tears as we watch you grow up.

Sending you off to school is a bittersweet milestone for us as your parents.  Whether you are homeschooled, public schooled, private schooled, or online schooled, we work towards helping you attain these goals of maturing and succeeding.  Our ultimate goal as your parents is to raise you up just to send you off.  At the same time, there are moments when we just want you to be that small, snuggly child who only wants to be held.  Just one more time.  Please, stop growing.

So, please, I ask you: When we want to walk you to the bus stop, or drive you to school that first morning, please let us.  If we want to take endless photos of you in your first day of school clothes, let us.  If we want to hug and kiss you as you leave the safety of our arms, please let us.  When we take you to meet your teachers and take the time to introduce ourselves, please be patient with us.  When we want to have a conversation with administrators and teachers, when we want to talk about classroom policies, subject content and learning materials, please be patient with us.  Please remember that we are turning you, our life's greatest treasures, over to these strangers, and they must pass muster.   If your parents insist on helping you, the mature, independent college freshman, unpack and decorate your room, if they insist on introducing themselves to everyone on your hall, and want to follow you around campus: please, let them. Yes, even when your mom has a video camera in her hand, and your dad has a camera in his.  We don't mean to embarrass you with any of our actions, we are merely excited for you.  We are expressing our love and excitement in the ways we know how.  This is one of the ways we are interested and involved in your lives.  We are your biggest champions and cheerleaders, and we have such a small amount of time with you before you head off into the world.  We love you, we have raised you to be this successful, mature, independent individual, and now you're off, just like that!

This is your time, and we want the chance to watch you shine.  So, please--let us.

Eating Crow

Before motherhood, and even now, as a mom, I've had many "I'll never"s and "my children will never"s as part of my daily thoughts.  

My children will never act like that!  I'll never feed my little darlings processed character-branded crap!  I'll never park my kids in front of a screen just for five minutes of quiet toilet cleaning by myself!  My kids will never behave that way in public!  I'll never rely on my older children to entertain the younger ones!

I've eaten a lot of crow over the past almost 15 years. A.  Lot.  Of.  Crow.  It's a little chewy, can be bitter, but it's funny to watch the faces of my kids and husband as I gnaw on it.

This summer's biggest crow was "I'll never be the stay at home mom who sends her kid to day camp/care."  Yep, that's exactly what I did.  I found a day camp at a wonderful church up the road and sent Avery there three days a week.

And you know what?  He's loved every bit of it.  He's thrived, he's blossomed, he's grown, he's HAPPY.  Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays have been his favorite days.  As I've mentioned before, while the rest of us in our family are happy to hide in a corner away from the world, Avery is a people person.  He is an extrovert who needs people.  He needs social interaction.  He would've withered this summer here in the house on his own.  He would've died from absolute boredom while Noah was in Jamaica.  Being home with me while I've needed to concentrate on a needy infant would've left him feeling unimportant.  We don't typically take vacations, so these are Avery's summer adventures.  Watching him bound off after a quick kiss each morning, high-fiving his friends and shouting greetings, I knew I made the right decision for him.  Picking him up each afternoon, listening to him talk endlessly about his exciting day and the many activities Pastor B had for them, I knew I made the right decision.  When he begged for one more week of camp after I had decided against it, siting down time before school begins as my reason, I knew I was making the right decision as I wrote out that last check for that final week, caving.  Avery doesn't need down time so much as he needs people and interaction time. 

So, I sent my kid to day camp/care.  I also found countless VBSs for him.  We threw ourselves into the free activities provided by the library.  He's loved it, and I'm quite certain he already knows just about everyone in our new county! We can't go anywhere around here without him waving and calling out to someone he's met through one of these activities!  Avery will have familiar faces at his new school, and hopefully, even a few in his classroom.  

My prayer, years from now, is that Avery will understand that I recognized, and met, his needs.  My prayer is that he will not look back and think, "Mom just wanted to be rid of me."  Instead, I want him to know that I love him enough to give him room, and an environment to grow, where he can be himself.

Some people eat cake.  Me?  I eat crow.  And every now and then, I enjoy it.