He shows me over the top grand

I've had this day...

It started out great. The first Saturday in so many where, most of the day, we were all home. Together.

That's really nice.

I used to take it for granted, but not so much in the past couple of years.

So, the day started with a big mug of coffee - with whipped cream. The boys were fun, and we were just having an all around "I'm-so-glad-I-have-these-precious-boys-and-life-is-realy-just-darned-good-right-now" kind of a time.

Well, as it turns out, little brother is very adept in knocking down block towers.

And taking apart Legos.


And the occasional pinching/hitting/biting fests. {What can I say. I think he inherited some of my crazy}

And stealing every-last-blasted-toy-you-ever-did-pick-up.

And, as it turns out, the boys really are used to going their separate ways each morning.


K to second grade.

Jay to first grade.

Noe to kindergarten.

Mommy and Kai-bear back home.

Having this glorious togetherness, well, it took some adapting, and learning, and many, many, many lessons in kindness.

I got tired in a hurry.

Weary of the struggling and fighting and neediness.

And really, what's with 5 and 6 year old boys making up words?

At mealtime?

"Bobba-clocky-Boo-sky" might be funny once (and even then, I am doubtful), but over and over? With food in your mouth?

No.

And then we start rhyming. And ya'll know what happens when that starts.

Bad words.

Innocent minds do not realize this, but it just seems inevitable that when the rhyming starts, the inappropriate words can not be stopped. Since they truly do not know, I don't want to make a big deal over it, but for the love of all things sane,

"Can we please just s t o p!!"

I had to remind myself alot - a l o t - of how blessed I am.

What a high calling this is.

That some day... maybe... they just might rise up and call me blessed. *cough*


So, I began this continual mental list of my blessings.

You're blessed Wendi, so blessed


"MOM! BABY IS STEALING MY MARBLE!"

Yep. Blessed. This is good. What a privilege. Teaching little people. Mm-hmm. Good.

"Noe - STOP BREATHING ON ME. WHEN YOU BREATHE ON ME YOU SPIT ON ME. YOU.ARE.GROSS."

Little miracles. Every single one of them.

Unclench teeth.
 
And then in the midst of the crazy; this me trying to convince myself that my life was over the top grand, and them trying to push every button I have, plus some I didn't even know I had - crazy, in the midst of it I glance over my shoulder and saw K.

He was surrounded by books.

His lips were moving.

Every now and then you could here a soft syllable or two, and some giggles,  as he concentrated on the words.

And I melted.

See, something has recently happened, that really is over the top grand. 

And it took my pushed buttons, my frustration, my not-so-convinced-of-grandness self, and bad attitude - 


and transformed it into true thankfulness.


K had three years of preschool. Each year we anxiously waited to see what would happen with his learning. We really didn't know what his abilities, and possible disabilities, would be.

It was slow going, but we began to see that he was, indeed, able to keep up with his peers.He had to have help to get focused, and refocused. He had a slower processing time, and got distracted alot, but sure enough, he was learning.

We were thrilled. Beyond grateful with each new concept he picked up. When he was in kindergarten we excitedly watched as he mastered something that we had so hoped he would, but wondered if it would ever happen.

He learned to read. On his own. Sounding out words, then phrase, then sentences.

I cried when I first experienced him reading out loud to me. It was a proud mommy moment, and ever more highlighted  with the shroud of special needs, years of waiting, wondering, loving, fearing, and cheering on this little man.

The next year, when he was in first grade, our exuberance was dampened as it began to become more and more clear that although he read each word, he had about zero reading comprehension.

The words were symbols on a page. Hieroglyphics of sorts. His brain deciphered the phonics and formed the word, but he really had no point of reference for so many of the meanings behind the words.

I've shared here before how his world is small. Mostly because of his severe vision impairments. Somewhat because of his lack of running, walking, playing sports, etc. His world is arms length and usually floor level. So, it made sense that when he would read about football, or the stars in the sky, or a big city with towering buildings, - they would not have a mental image to accompany them, so they would not be fully understood or remembered.

It was disheartening, to say the least.

But, we pressed on. And his teachers and therapists pressed on. And we waited, seeing little results...

...until last week.

We sat down to homework and his reading log on Tuesday, a week and a half ago. It started normally, working our math problems, and picking up our book.

But everything changed when his little voice rang out in a cadence that was anything but normal.

He always read in a monotone voice. Reading the words. For that we were thankful. But we also had grown very accustomed to the words lacking meaning and emotion when he read them.

On Tuesday evening every emotion was noted, felt, and read as such.

Every quotation mark changed the feeling and tone.

His voice articulated the meaning behind every.single.word.


I laughed, because I had not heard these sounds from his mouth before.

And then I cried, because the meaning of what was happening was not lost on me. Not at all.

It was like he was learning how to read, and trying out his legs, and forming his first words all over again.

He looked up at me and smiled.

He commented about the story.

He noted that the main character had the same name as his physical therapist, and her hair was black.

He went back and corrected words that were pronounced wrong.

He would not have done any of this prior to Tuesday. Something just clicked. And he got what he read.

When he was done with the book he was all smiles, and then he declared that he was "very, very, very , very {what is the deal in this house about using a million "very's" whenever we are trying to get our point across??} tired. And he laid down and fell into a deep sleep.

It's tiring to read with emotion, to get into a story, and remember it, no?

So, when I saw him surrounded by books, reading, and smiling today - I got my over the top grand. It is, it really is. Oh that I would never forget it!