Ch-ch-ch-changes

I've fallen off the blogging wagon yet again, and seem to have just been focusing on race recaps.  There have been some changes in my family that are pretty significant, and I want to focus on that right now.

School started a little over a month ago---and this time, we're in two new schools!

D is now in 6th grade, which is middle school here.  How I have a child old enough to be in middle school is truly beyond my comprehension.  He's 11!  I remember his first day of kindergarten so clearly-----and now he's out of elementary school and in middle school.  I am continuing to try to soak it all up---it goes so fast. I only have 7 more years left with him at home.  I can cry just thinking of that.

He's made a great adjustment to middle school.  His school is on a block system, which means that he only has 3 classes a day.  They alternate days---one day he has Language Arts, Science and P.E., and the next he has Social Studies, Math and Band.  Because there are only 3 classes a day (plus a homeroom that is the only daily class), each class is 90 minutes, giving them time to really dig into a subject.  But not only is he on a block system, it's a ROTATING block.  So Monday he will have periods 1-3-5.  Tuesday will be 2-4-6.  Then Wednesday it's 3-5-1, Thursday it's 4-6-2, Friday it's 5-1-3, and Monday it's 6-2-4. It sounds confusing, but the kids understand it within a few days.  I actually like it. It means that EVERYONE has every period at each time of the day at some point.  Every child will have math first thing in the morning, when their minds are fresh, and every child will have math after lunch, when they are more sleepy.  Every child will have P.E. first thing in the morning, when it's cooler, and every child will have P.E. after lunch, when it's hot. It's a great equalizer!  And, since there are only 3 classes a day (and really, only 2 academic classes a day) he doesn't have TONS of homework each day. Although, he really does still have a lot.

This year he is in GATE (Gifted and Talented).  He tested into the GATE program in 4th grade, but there really is no program in elementary school, with the budget cuts.  Here, GATE comes into play in middle school. The GATE classes are Language Arts and Social Studies.  He had a choice to be either in homogeneous class (all GATE students) or heterogeneous class (half GATE, half high-achieving but not GATE identified). He wanted homogeneous, and had to enter a lottery for it---and got it. I warned him that he would not be the smartest kid in the class anymore in this type of class, which could be good for him---and he's ok with that.  His math class is the highest there is too (there is no official GATE class for math, but they place kids in math based on their MAP scores).  He's in a compacted 6/7 class, meaning that he's getting a year and a half of math in one year.  Halfway through the year he'll get the 7th grade book.  This also means that he's past the point of me helping him in math.  Luckily, if he needs help, my husband, J, is a math whiz (his dream is to get his masters degree in math). I am great at Language Arts, writing, etc, so between the two of us we have him covered.

He also switched instruments this year. In 5th grade band, he learned the saxophone.  This year he wanted a change, and opted to play the baritone. (Click here to see what this is. I'd never heard of it until this year). He has to practice this most days, in addition to his homework, and also in addition to his guitar (he's been taking guitar lessons since 3rd grade). He has joined the astronomy club (meets once a month after school) and has made a few new friends, although he largely seems to be hanging out with his friends from his old school.  He had a rough start to the year with a few instances of irresponsibility, but now we have a plan that he follows to make sure all homework is done, paperwork is signed, etc.  I'm incredibly proud of him.

On the other hand, my daughter, A, is also in a new school.  She's now 9, and in 3rd grade.  We made the very difficult decision to place her in a special day class. She's been in general ed this whole time.  She's been doing ok, but not great, and between some behavioral problems she's exhibiting and the fact that she needs more one-on-one with reading comprehension, a smaller class was the way to go.  A general ed class has up to 28 kids (and up to 34 in 4th and 5th grade!) and not only does the teacher not have a lot of time for one-on-one attention, but it's very noisy, which is difficult for a deaf/hard-of-hearing kid.  This new class only has 11 kids (it will have no more than 14), and has two teachers.  It's a NSH class (non-severely handicapped) and the only special ed class-type in my district that is is on the academic track.  (We had to switch schools because at our old elementary school, the special day classes were autism classes)  Kids here are geared for a high school diploma, while other special ed classes are geared to a high school certificate.  In fact, their goal is to get the kids out of hte NSH class at some point and mainstream them back into general ed. That is my hope for A.  But, if she needs this class for the duration, then we'll do what we need to do.

She is getting lots of one-on-one.  Actually, she's in the highest reading and math groups, and for at least one of those groups she's the only one in it! I was nervous putting her in this class, but I'm thrilled so far at what I'm seeing her accomplish.  It was hard to admit that she needed more, that she needed special ed, but she does.  I'm proud of her, and frankly, I'm proud of myself and my husband, for recognizing this and placing her where she belongs.  She does miss her old school, and sometimes cries that she wants to go back, but for the most part she loves her new school and teacher.  It's good that we still have Brownies twice a month, because that's where the majority of here friends are and she can still see them. But she's made a few new friends at the new school as well, so that's good.

In short, both kid are where they need to be. Both kids have special needs of sorts, and I've placed them in classes that address that.  GATE or Special Day, each class is geared to my son and daughter, respectively.  I'm hoping that what I'm seeing during this first month continues all year!

Growing Up Too Quickly

Last week my son, D, promoted from elementary school.  From 5th grade to 6th grade.

I now have a middle schooler.

Wow.

I can't believe how fast time is flying.  I have always been keenly aware of how fast it goes. I remember still being in the hospital with him after he was born, and he was 3 days old---and being upset that he was already 3 days old.  THREE DAYS! I wanted to capture every moment, every memory. 

And now he's 11. And going off to middle school.

He is growing up to be, in one word, phenomenal.  I'm so proud of the person he's becoming.  He's kind and empathic and fun and so interesting to talk to. I mean, really interesting.  He is now a junior black belt in karate, and plays guitar, and now plays sax in the school band, and runs 5ks (and has even done a 10k) and does triathlon. He reads books way beyond his grade level, and asks me the most interesting, thought-provoking questions.

I'm so proud of the relationship I've fostered with him.  When A was born, and was in the hospital for several months, D was only 2.  Before she was born, he was my world.  Wherever I went, he went, and vice versa.  I was so in love!  I made a conscious decision when A was born that I didn't want him to feel second best---he needed me too!  So even when she was in the hospital, and I'd spend all morning in the NICU (he would either be at preschool camp or a friend's house or home if a relative was visiting) but I was with him all afternoon, through bedtime, and then I'd go back to the hospital.  All through his childhood, I used any nursing hours I received to spend time with him.  And though our nursing days are long over (thank goodness!) we still spend lots of time together.  We see plays and musicals, we go to museums, we run, and I still read to him every night (we recently finished the Hunger Game series, and have now started on the Divergent trilogy).  We have plans in a few years to run his first half marathon together (a destination trip, I promised him!) 

Recently I asked him if he ever felt left out because of A's medical needs. He said no---and when I told him I had strived to make him feel that way, he said mission accomplished.  Ah, I love that boy!

Now he goes to middle school. He's becoming a man.  Yes, he's still a little boy, but not really...he's growing up right before my eyes.  He's still a cuddle and loves to snuggle with me at night----just not in public!  I'm dreading the day that he doesn't want to cuddle with me anymore, but for now, I savor each one.

I'm excited for him, and a bit worried too.  Three of his six classes next year will be accelerated (GATE for English and Social Studies, and a compacted math class [a year and a half of math in one year]).  Plus Science, PE and band.  It'll be culture shock to him, but I guess it was for me too, back in the day, going into middle school.  He'll be ok.  He'll navigate it all---academically, socially, and emotionally.

Ah, D.  I love that boy.  I just cherish him so much.....and although he's growing up too quickly, I am also loving watching him develop into the man he is becoming.

Broadway Lovers

In March 2010 I took my son, D, to his first play. It was "Pippi Longstocking", a production put on by the local children's theater, the San Diego Junior Theatre.  He was almost 6 years old at the time. I saw an ad in one of those local free children's magazines, and thought it would be a fun thing to do with him.

Little did I know that 4 years later theater, especially musical theater, would be one of our great bonding experience.  For a few years, we would choose a few plays from the Junior Theatre to go to; last year I gave in and bought season tickets, as we had started to go to more and more of the shows.  While it's a children's theater, their caliber of execution is amazing----the acting, props, costume and choreography are simply amazing.  We have seen too many shows there to count, including "Beauty and the Beast", "Guys and Dolls", and "The Sound of Music".

In recent years we started to branch out to other theaters in San Diego; why limit ourselves just to the Junior Theatre? I "liked" the Facebook pages of most of the theaters all over town, from downtown to Coronado to Oceanside.  As a result, we have gotten to see some really neat productions, including "Cats", "Annie Get Your Gun", "Seussical the Musical", "Annie" and "Into the Woods". Actually we have seen so many shows over the past 4 years that I truly can't remember them all.  While I would love to take him to more shows at the magestic Civic Theatre, those tickets are very expensive and therefore we only see shows there that I feel we cannot miss (i.e. I'm trying to get tickets to take him to see "Wicked" there).

Musical theater is something I didn't expect to have in common with my son, but, like running and reading, it's something I delight in sharing.  A few weeks ago we were waiting to see "Thoroughly Modern Millie", and in the program was an ad for Les Miserables.  I asked him if he wanted to see it. He looked me in the eye, and said, "Mama, I want to see ALL the plays.".  A boy after my own heart.  We saw "Les Mis" last week.  We have also rented some musicals to watch on tv, and if I am able to rent the soundtrack from the library, we like to listen to the songs on the way home from the show.

Growing up, I didn't go to the theater too often, but the times I did really stick out in my mind. I remember my parents taking me to the big theaters in Los Angeles to see Cats, Pirates of Penzance and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.  My mother furthered my love for musicals by renting movies such as "Carousel" and "Oklahoma!" for me and my sisters while I was in my teens.  These memories with my parents will always be with me---and I hope my son has the same warm memories when he gets older. 

I have taken my daughter to a few plays as well, and have tickets for some in the coming months, but she doesn't have the love for it (yet) that my son has.  If she develops that passion, I'll include her more as well.  In the meantime, I'm really enjoying my one-on-one time with my boy---and seeing some great live theater to boot!

Endings and Beginnings

"This, too, shall pass."

A phrase that is used all the time, especially in relation to bad things.  I try to remember this when I am going through a really hard time in my life.  When my daughter, A, has been unexpectedly hospitalized (like when her lungs collapsed, or her neck broke), I repeat that phrase over and over to myself.  I realize that while things may look dark and awful at the moment, one day I'll be able to look back, and while I may not smile, I won't focus on the hard moments.

The thing is, the phrase also applies to the good times.  All things, both good and bad, pass with time.

Yesterday was my kids' last day of school.  I now have a newly minted 5th grader and 2nd grader.  This coming year will be my son, D's, last year in elementary school. One more year and he'll be in middle school.  Additionally, my daughter had her bridging ceremony in Girl Scouts last weekend, so now instead of Daisy she's a Brownie. It's weird for me to see her in a brown uniform instead of blue!

I remember clearly one winter day, when D was 5 years old, and in preschool. D and I were at our local park, which is right next to the elementary school.  (A was at home with our nurse).  The next year D would be heading to kindergarten, so I wanted to go into the school office to ask when kindergarten registration was.  D was too scared to go on the school grounds---he was crying that there were too many big kids there.  I agreed to wait until after school was over, so we did.  It was only when the school was cleared of kids that D felt comfortable being there.

Now, D is a 5th grader, at the top of the student heap.  Where did the time go?

I've written before how I mourn the passage of time. Even when D was an infant, STILL IN THE HOSPITAL at 3 days old, I was upset at how quickly time was ticking away.  Now he's 10, and I only have him for 8 more years before he leaves home for college.  Of course, the older both kids get, the better it gets---I love the individual relationships I have fostered with both my son and daughter, relationships that only happen with their growth and their maturity. I don't REALLY miss the days of nursing and diapers and swaddling---yet sometimes I do.

Life is made up of moments, good and bad. I can think back on my son's life and images, like a movie, play on my mind.  Running races with him, going to plays, reading books, temper tantrums, time-outs, cooking with him, legos.  Likewise with my daughter, I think of reading, going out to coffee, her tracheostomy, hospital stays, the American Girl store, painting our nails.  Too many images to write, and certainly more life experiences that happened that I can't remember. And I desperately want to remember it all. The good and the bad.  The hard times and the amazing times.  I  don't scrapbook anymore, which is a shame, as I would love a visual reminder of my years of early motherhood once my children are grown.

There are certain markers in life that clearly delineate the passage of time.  Going from grade to grade, then elementary to middle and high schools.  Testing from one belt to another in karate.  Going from Daisies to Brownies (and then Juniors, and beyond, in Girl Scouts).  Racing a kids' 1/4 mile race, graduating to the mile, then running 5ks, and now contemplating a 10k.  At each marker I celebrate with joy, tempered with an undercurrent of bittersweetness.  Each stage marks something new and exciting, while marking the end of something else.

Looking forward to this summer to regroup my feelings; then I'll be able to fully embrace the new.

Double Digits

A few weeks ago, my son, D, turned 10.

Double digits.  The big 1-0.  A decade old.

While it doesn't seem possible that I've now been a mother for a decade, there it is.  I've written about D so much before....too many posts to link to, in fact, so I won't link to any. For the fun of it, I just clicked on the "My Boys" tab at the top of my blog and saw post after post that I have written about D....full of pride, bittersweet at how fast he's growing up, always with love.

Last weekend we were on our way to a play.  We saw "Shrek: The Musical" at the San Diego Junior Theatre. D and I have been going to see plays and musicals and this theater for a few years now, and finally this year bought season tickets since we see all the shows anyway.  We've been branching out to other theaters in San Diego, not just the Junior Theatre, and have been having fun exploring new theaters and seeing new plays.

But I digress.

We were on our way to the play, when he said to me, "Mama, we do so many things together.".  When I asked him to name some, here's what he came up with:

• see plays and musicals together
• read together (I've been reading to him almost nightly all his life.  We're currently on the second book in Rick Riordan's Kane Chronicles, "The Throne of Fire")
• do puzzles together (we're in the middle of our first 1000 piece puzzle, this awesome rock 'n' roll one)
• run together (we've run countless 5ks together and I hope to do a 10k with him next year)
• bike together (he just got a new bike, in fact, and is slowly increasing his distance)
• play guitar together (well, although I play a little, he is pretty darned good, and I enjoy sometimes singing to his playing)
• watch shows together (we just started watching "Survivor" together for the first time)
• play golf together

In short, he's become someone fun for me to do things with, not just my little boy.  As much as I wish he'd stay small forever, I am thoroughly enjoying the young man he is becoming.  He's FUN!  He marches to the beat of his own drum---he doesn't really care what others think.  He's brilliant, interesting and comes up with ideas and theories that blow me away.

He's also tenacious.  This weekend he'll be doing this first triathlon.  That's right--a triathlon!  This weekend is the Spring Sprint (a race that I myself did in 2011). My BFF is doing his first triathlon that day too---and D is doing the kids version, called the Itsy Bitsy Triathlon, for kids 7-10 years old.  It's a 100 yard swim, 3 mile bike, and 3/4 mile run. 

A few weeks ago he got an awesome new bike from my daddy and step-mother---a sweet 21-speed mountain bike, which is a huge upgrade from the 1 speed used BMX he'd been riding.  On his actual birthday, he told me he wanted to ride 10 miles for his 10th birthday.  Of course, the endurance athlete in me was so happy!  To date, his longest bike ride had been 5 miles, which is the distance around a local lake we like to bike. 

We got to the lake, and did one lap.  At the end of the lap, he was exhausted and wanted to go back to the car. I told him we could, but his goal had been 10 miles, not 5. I would do whatever he wanted to do, but wanted him to think things through.  He decided to go for 10. As we biked the second loop, I told him about the triathlon saying "suck it up, buttercup", and that he was my little buttercup for sucking it up and continuing.  At the end, he was so proud of himself for completing both the 10 miles and his goal.

The next day he showed even more tenacity.  I had signed us up for a local 5k, the Peace Love Run (race recap still pending!).  We got there bright and early, which was no easy feat since he was up late the night before at his birthday party.  As we watched the half marathon start, and then the 10k, suddenly D got a stomach ache, and told me he wanted to go home.  I knew he must not have been feeling well (too much cake and ice cream the night before!) as he loves to run and race, and told him if he didn't feel well we could go home. Or, he could try to walk it. Or, he could try to run it and stop if he needed.  I was prepared to leave, when he said he would try to run. I'm glad he did, because not only did he run the whole thing, but he came in a full 2 minutes ahead of me!  My little buttercup, sucking it up.

Right after the 5k, we drove to the other side of Mission Bay for his first open-water swim practice, in preparation for his triathlon.  We met my best friend and Steve.  The water was c-c-c-c-cold!  And poor D, who is little and has NO body fat, was freezing. He was crying, saying he made a big mistake in signing up for the tri.  But in the end, he dunked in the water and swam a bit.  Once again, sucking it up.

In short, in a 24 hour period, he "sucked it up, buttercup" with running, biking and swimming.

That's my boy. I posted about his bike ride on Dailymile, and got great responses, especially this one from my friend Rose:  "The fact that he wanted to do this for his birthday is such a great tribute to you! Your enjoyment both of being active and achieving goals has rubbed off, congratulations."

I could go on and on about D---but it all boils down to this:  I love him. I can't believe it's been a decade already, and at the same time I can't believe it's only been 10 years. I feel like I've always known him. He's one of the lights of my life, and I'm so incredibly lucky and grateful that I get to be his mommy.

Halloween Musings

Last night was one of the best Halloweens I've ever had.

I love Halloween so much.  I always have. There's something about the excitement in the air, the silliness, the fun.  I love the houses that go all-out and decorate.  I am always amazed by how creative people, children and adults alike, can be with their costumes.  I think handing out candy is so much fun, and it's even more fun going door-to-door with my children.  Back in my early 20's when I used to dabble in witchcraft, it was celebrated as the new year...and in truth, this time of year always seems like a new beginning with the holiday season upon us.

I also have had cause to celebrate on Halloween. In 1999, my husband, J, proposed to me on that night.  And on Halloween morning 2005, with my then-one-year-old son, D, at my side, I looked at pregnancy test stick and saw the "+" mark. I found out I was pregnant with my daughter, A, and excitedly (and somewhat fearfully) told D he was going to be a big brother.  Yes, Halloween has always been fun for me.

When I became a parent, Halloween took on new meaning. It wasn't about me, it was about my son. I recall those first few Halloweens with D....picking out his costume, taking him around a few houses.  Usually my husband would join us for a few houses and then return home to hand out candy while I did a few more with my baby, and in subsequent years, toddler.  The older he got, the more houses he would be able to go to (and the heavier his trick-or-treat bag would get!)  When A was born, we would take her out to a few houses and then J would take her home and hand out candy, again with me walking around with D.  I cherish those memories. I can still feel his little 2- and 3-year old hand in mine, hearing him exclaim over people's carved pumpkins on their doorsteps, his shyness in saying "trick-or-treat", coaxing him to go up to some particularly scary houses.  I remember one year when he was dressed like Spiderman. He must have been 4.  People would open their doors and say "hello, Spiderman!" and he would pout, "I'm not Spiderman, I'm D!"  Ah, out of the mouths of babes.

When D became 5, and was in kindergarten, he finally had friends in the neighborhood (before that, we didn't know anyone with kids his age around us; turns out, the street was crawling with kids!)  From that point on, every Halloween involved meeting up with a particular group of friends and running around the neighborhood. Typically J goes with him and that group, while I would do a few houses with A then return home to hand out candy.

I love to decorate for Halloween as well.  In my house, decorating doesn't mean making the house look spooky. It means dragging out my box of "decorations", the majority of which are artwork that my kids have done, mostly in school, over the years. I get so much pleasure hanging up their orange finger-painted pumpkins and other such artwork.

Which brings me to yesterday.

Yesterday started out good. I took the kids to school, and stayed for their costume parade (D was dressed like a ninja, and A was dressed like a cat).  The 4th and 5th grade students did a flash mob, so I got to see D dance with the group to Michael Jackson's "Thriller".  I then helped out with A's 1st grade Halloween party, then went up to D's 4th grade class to do the same. It was so fun!  I came home, did a quick 50 minute workout (biked on the trainer for 40 minutes, then ran for 10 minutes), showered, and had to leave to pick the kids up from school. I hurriedly threw laundry in the washing machine, and too late I realize I had accidentally tossed my phone in too.  By the time I realized it, it was already wet, and not turning on.

I spent all afternoon brooding. I was afraid to tell J, as we have had so many unexpected expenses this year (we had to replace our washing machine, air conditioner/furnace, and garage door opener, to name just a few) and I knew he would not be happy about this. When D saw how upset I was, he said some wise words: "Mama, it's just a phone." I realized he was right.  It was just a "thing" and it was just money.

This time last year, A had JUST gotten home from two weeks in the hospital, having broken her neck. She had the halo screwed to her head, and I pushed her in a wheelchair to a few houses, so that she would have a token trick-or-treat experience.  I recalled her first Halloween, in 2006 when she was just 4 months old, having spent the first 3 months of her life in the NICU.  She was not breathing well at all that night as I carried her to a few houses in her cute pea-in-a-pod costume, and in fact was a few days away from being back inpatient for month while she got a tracheomstomy.  Hey, just a few months ago I was dealing with my husband's stroke.  This Halloween, everyone was home, everyone was healthy, and that was the most important thing in the world.  There is no amount of money that can buy that.

I was also grateful that just this week, J had uploaded all my photos from my phone onto the computer, so I didn't lose them.  THAT would have been devastating.

So at trick-or-treat last night, I shook off my bad mood.  The kids dressed in their cute costumes, and off we went.  D went with my husband with his usual crowd of friends and hit every.single.house in the neighborhood.  As for A? Well for the first time SHE had a group of friends to go around with too.  Like my son, she didn't have neighborhood friends until she started kindergarten last year.  Before that, all of her friends were from other sources (preschool, kids of my own friends, etc) and none were in our specific neighborhood. And although last year, in kindergarten, she had made some local friends, her neck break prevented her from really going out; as I wrote earlier, I just pushed her in her wheelchair (she was using a wheelchair at the time because of the halo on her head) for a few houses.  Last night, however, she joined up with four other friends and had the best time.

I felt so good, knowing that D was happy with his friends, A was happy with her friends, and that both had a nice group of parents that I trusted and felt comfortable with.  We were all healthy, we were all safe, and our family has come such a long way this past year.  It was the best Halloween ever, mostly due to being able to simply be grateful for what we have and not stressing about the rest.

Shaken to the Core

Like every other mother in the world, like every other parent, like every other human being....my heart is hurting right now.  It literally hurts. When I think about the horrific events of yesterday, my heart hurts so badly that if I didn't know better I'd think I was having a heart attack.  I have cried so many tears, but when I think I'm all cried out, suddenly I start crying again.

Much has been, and will be, written about the tragedy, and I don't have it in me to write much, or even anything new to add....but I will say this.  Although I have always been a very grateful person, and have honestly cherished every moment with my children, this has shaken me to the core. This tragedy will make me a better mother, an even more present and appreciative person, and a kinder human being.

My heart is in Connecticut......

When My Heart Grew

I love to watch my kids interact together. A is now 5 1/2, and D is almost 8, so they are able to play together a lot more than they used to. A is still not as developmentally advanced, in terms of language, as other kids her age, but D is amazing with her. It's especially fun for me to watch them in the tub together, playing with the bathtoys and splashing around.

Back when I was pregnant with A, I was so scared of how having a second child would affect D. In fact, I was so focused on D that I wasn't even excited about my pregnancy. Even though A was a planned pregnancy, and I was happy about it, during the entire 9 months I was worried about how D would react to having a baby sister. I was also sad at losing my "alone" time with him. For 26 months, D and I were inseparable. I was with him all the time, rarely leaving him. He was my light, my joy, my sunshine. You know that "honeymoon" stage you get when you're in a new relationship? That was me and D for two years straight.

I was so sad at losing our one-on-one time, and so worried about how D would react, that I felt oddly detached from the pregnancy. Not depressed....but like I said, I wasn't EXCITED about her. I did all the right things----got her room ready, had a baby shower--but my focus was on my son. I was also scared that I wouldn't love her---how could there be room in my heart for another baby? The love I felt for my son was so great, unlike any love I had ever felt. (In fact, later, when she was born with so many birth defects, I thought that God was punishing me for not being excited about her. When I told this to my rabbi, he allayed my fears, telling me that God would never punish me for such thoughts or emotions.)

Before A was born, a friend sent me the following poem, whose author is unknown.

Loving Two

I walk along holding your 2-year-old hand, basking in the glow of our magical relationship. Suddenly I feel a kick from within, as if to remind me that our time alone is limited. And I wonder: how could I ever love another child as I love you?

Then she is born, and I watch you. I watch the pain you feel at having to share me as you’ve never shared me before.

I hear you telling me in your own way, “Please love only me”. And I hear myself telling you in mine, “I can’t”, knowing, in fact, that I never can again.

You cry. I cry with you. I almost see our new baby as an intruder on the precious relationship we once shared. A relationship we can never quite have again.

But then, barely noticing, I find myself attached to that new being, and feeling almost guilty. I’m afraid to let you see me enjoying her—as though I am betraying you.

But then I notice your resentment change, first to curiosity, then to protectiveness, finally to genuine affection.

More days pass, and we are settling into a new routine. The memory of days with just the two of us is fading fast.

But something else is replacing those wonderful times we shared, just we two. There are new times – only now, we are three. I watch the love between you grow, the way you look at each other, touch each other.

I watch how she adores you — as I have for so long. I see how excited you are by each of her new accomplishments. And I begin to realize that I haven’t taken something from you, I’ve given something to you. I notice that I am no longer afraid to share my love openly with both of you.

I find that my love for each of you is as different as you are, but equally strong. And my question is finally answered, to my amazement. Yes, I can love another child as much as I love you—only differently.

And although I realize that you may have to share my time, I now know you’ll never share my love. There’s enough of that for both of you – you each have your own supply.

I love you—-both. And I thank you both for blessing my life. --author unknown

This poem came at the right time for me, as I read it right before A was born. And, of course, we know the rest of the story. I fell in love, head-over-heels-madly-in-love--with my daughter within seconds of her being born. D loves his sister, and she idolizes him. He is so protective of her, so proud of her. A few months ago, I was talking to my husband at the dinner table about her upcoming IEP. I was crying, saying that all I want is for her to be a typical child, but no matter how well she does, she'll never be typical (she'll always, always have her hearing and balance impairments, if nothing else). D asked, "what does typical mean?" I responded that when you're typical, you can do things that other kids can do. His response was "what can't A do? She's amazing!"

A IS amazing. And so is D. I'm a lucky, lucky mama that I have the two of them. And they're lucky to have each other.

Cookie Monday

I recently started to read the book "The Happiness Project", by Gretchen Rubin. I first heard about this from my sister, but other friends have also been reading it too. The idea of taking active steps to make myself happier is very appealing. Not that I'm depressed, or even unhappy...far from it. But I definitely feel that I can be happier. I borrowed the book from the library, but am enjoying it so much that I bought my own copy (I also bought one for my very best friend; he and I plan on working on our own happiness projects together). Gretchen also has a website that is worth checking out.

Anyhow, I'm only halfway done with the book, but so far the chapter on parenting is really hitting home. Gretchen writes about "fog happiness". On page 91, here's what she writes: "In many ways, the happiness of having children falls into the kind of happiness that could be called fog happiness. Fog is elusive. Fog surrounds you and transforms the atmosphere, but when you try to examine it, it vanishes. Fog happiness is the kind of happiness you get from activities that, closely examined, don't really seem to bring much happiness at all---yet somehow they do."

I understand fog happiness. In some ways, my half marathon and triathlon training is like this. Training makes me incredibly happy. However, when I'm actually doing the training, I'm rarely happy. Running is hard, swimming can be boring, and biking is a huge effort for me. At any given moment I am not happy...yet the whole thing makes me happy. Fog happiness. Likewise with my kids. I love my kids so much; they are my life, and I think I am a very good mother. However, on a day-to-day basis, I don't experience a lot of happiness with my kids. I experience a lot of emotions---contentment, pride, anger, frustration, worry, love--but happiness only comes in short bursts here and there.

In the book, Gretchen talks about taking time for projects and traditions. Reading this, I had a brainstorm: why not have a weekly tradition with my kids, doing something that makes all three of us happy? Hence, Cookie Monday was born. I decided that every weekend, my kids would choose a cookie recipe (we have a cookie cookbook, and once that is done there are tons of other books and websites to get new recipes). I would buy the ingredients, and on Mondays after school we would bake them together. I chose Mondays because, let's face it, Mondays are usually boring. And I chose baking cookies because it is relatively easy and it's fun. Plus, even though I love to cook, I am not much of a baker, and I figured this would help me hone my skills.

This past Monday was our first Cookie Monday---and it was a huge success! We made chunky chocolate cookies with white chocolate chips and walnuts. My son, D, read us the recipe and my daughter, A, mixed everything together. It was fun---and I have to say I was happy doing it! We enjoyed eating our freshly-baked cookies, warm from the oven, and now have cookies to eat all week long. We even ordered a new cookie jar for the project, as the only jar we had was a haunted house cookie jar for Halloween, which is inappropriate to display in any month but October.

I'm glad I thought of this project---it's fun, easy, inexpensive, and something that both of my children can do, regardless of their age and academic/physical levels. It's also good for D, who is learning about fractions and measurements, and for A, who needs to practice pouring and stirring for her fine motor skills. The only thing it's NOT good for is my waistline---thank goodness I run! :)

Smiling Under My Tears

Today was the first day of school! D started second grade, and A began kindergarten. I have been somewhat dreading this day, as I have truly enjoyed having the kids at home this summer. Save for a few days here and there where I almost pulled my hair out in frustration or boredom, we really had a good time. It was nice to have relaxed mornings, not have to worry about schlepping off to yet another therapy appointment, and recharge after a jam-packed school year. And I have been trying to savor each day with my kids, getting all the kisses and snuggles I could get.

Dropping D off at his second grade was a breeze. A few years ago, when he started kindergarten, I cried as I left him. I was sad that he was growing up so fast, that time was flying by, that he was in elementary school. But last year, and now this year, I'm just so proud of the young man he is becoming that it's a pleasure to drop him off. When I picked him up he was happy and said he had a great day. Whew!

My daughter, however, was a different story. She is now in kindergarten. Actually, she is in the first year of a tw0-year kindergarten. I am fortunate that that I live in a school district that offers this. It's a special program for kids who are born June-November, who would otherwise be the youngest kids in their class. For example, if a child is born in October, and started kindergarten, they wouldn't turn 5 until October, and would be in a class with kids who are almost turning 6! This is a great program, and is perfect for kids who need that extra year of social and emotional growth. Since A's birthday is in June, she qualified, which was a relief because I didn't think she was ready for "real" kindergarten yet with all of her delays. So, she'll be at this program for the year, then transfer to our home school next year for her second year of kindergarten (not every school in the district offers this class; our home school is one that doesn't, so she's now at a school different than our home school.)

In contrast to my feelings of sadness when D went to kindergarten two years ago, I was feeling excited for her. Most of my friends whose youngest kids are now in kindergarten were sad, but I was too proud of her to be sad. You see, today was a dream come true for me. Five years ago, when A was in the NICU struggling for her life, this was nothing but a pipe dream. As the years went on, and she had delay after delay after delay, I would hardly dare to hope that one day she would overcome all that she has.

Last spring, when we had her IEP and she tested into a regular, mainstream kindergarten class, I felt like my prayers had been answered. Yes, she will still be receiving all of her services (speech therapy, physical therapy, occupational therapy, adapted physical education and deaf/hard-of-hearing therapy) but she is in a regular, non-special ed class. It's all I ever wanted for her.

My biggest challenge this summer has been potty training. Last month I wrote that at age 5, A was still not trained (which is not unusual for kids with issues similar to hers). I'm proud to write that, only a month later, she is now trained! She still has a few accidents here and there, of course, but she is trained. Because of her balance issues, she has trouble getting on and off the toilet by herself, so I put her on at home. Yesterday, we were able to go in to her classroom and let A practice going on the potty all by herself. Luckily, the toilet there is so low that she had no trouble getting on it.

When I dropped her off today, I was in tears as I left. Not because I was sad...but because I was so proud. She's come so far. WE'VE come so far. She walked right in the classroom and didn't look back. When I peeked in the window, she was already sitting on the rug with the other kids. That's when I lost it and burst into tears: because she was one of the kids. I can't explain it in words, but anyone who has ever had a child with special needs will know exactly what I'm trying to say.

I am proud to write that when I picked her up from school, she was still in the same clothes I had sent her in. She had no potty accidents, and told me that she went to the bathroom there twice. I expect an accident here and there, of course, but now I KNOW she can do it! She loved school, and can't wait to go back tomorrow.

Here's hoping for a smooth school year for both my children!

What Oprah Taught Me

Last month The Oprah Winfrey Show ended it's 25 year run with a lot of fanfare. I have watched Oprah from the beginning, and was sad to see it end. I never watched it every day, but over the years would more of often than not turn it on at 4:00. In more recent years I would tape it daily and watch it if the show's theme appealed to me.

As the countdown to the last show started, there was a lot of talk about what the Oprah show taught people (I also listen to Oprah sometimes on XM radio, so a lot of this was on the radio). People wrote or called in saying the lessons they learned over the years from watching the shows. This got me thinking, because I have certainly learned a lot myself. Some things I learned were from the experts that she had on the show, but more often than not I learned things from everyday people she had on as guests. Two of my favorite sayings that I heard on the show was "How's that working for you?" (a good life quote from Dr. Phil) and "When people show you who they are, believe them" (by Maya Angelou).

However, one of the most poignant things I learned on the show was to be grateful while making my kids' lunches. Gratitude is a theme in my life; heck, even my blog is titled "Grateful Mama" (and here is why). But even I sometimes forget to be grateful for the little things.

A few years ago, I was watching Oprah. I am embarrassed to say I don't even remember what the show was about. I *think* it was about a mother with cancer, and a friend of hers was helping her with her kids when she was so sick with the effects of chemotherapy. I may have gotten the story wrong, but at any rate, the friend was saying something to the effect that her friend, the one with cancer, tried her hardest to make her kid's lunches every day, as it meant so much to her.

That one phrase, a casual toss-away sentence, really grabbed me. It made me realize that I, too, should be grateful that I have the opportunity to make my kid's lunches:

• There are mothers who are dead, who have lost battles with diseases or have had tragic accidents, who would have have loved to be around to make their kids' lunches.
• There are grieving mothers who have lost their children, whether to death or kidnapping or other unthinkable happenings, who have no one to make a lunch for.
• There are children (like my own daughter up until a few years ago) who can't eat, who depend on feeding tubes for their meals. I know when my daughter, A, had her feeding tube I would have given anything, ANYTHING, for her to eat orally.
  
• There are families who don't have enough money to make their kids' lunches (or even have a home to do so in), who depend on public assistance at school to feed their kids.
• There are mothers who are never home, who work all day and night to support their families, and have to depend on others, like nannies, to care for their children.
• One day, maybe sooner than I would like, my kids will be grown and I will have no one to make lunches for.
  

Don't get me wrong; I don't jump up and down every night when it's time for me to prepare lunches for the next day. It's tedious, and hard for me to pack a lunch for my son as he is a picky eater. But I welcome it every night. I am here, I am alive, I have two precious children and a pantry and fridge full of food. It's one of the many, many ways I nurture them every day.

Thank you, Oprah.

7 Links

There has been something called 7 Links circulating around the blogosphere. I was honored when Thesesa over at Active Eggplant nominated me to do it. It's a great way to dig up old posts, especially for newer and casual readers. So, without further ado, here are my 7 links:

1) My Most Beautiful Post

This is hard! I'd have to say it's one of these two: Thoughts on Mothering My Daughter and Thoughts on Mothering My Son. I wrote both last Mother's Day, 2010, and to me sums what what I have learned from parenting each of my children, including my daughter who has some special medical needs.

2) My Most Popular Post

My most popular post, based on page views, (apart from when I did my Tommie Copper Compression Sleeve Review and Giveaway) was I Miss My Daughter: ICU Update. Last month my daughter was unexpectedly in the ICU for a week, including over her 5th birthday, when her lung collapsed after a supposedly simple surgery to close the hole where her trachestomy had been. Lots and lots of people read that post. It was hard to write..and after re-reading it now, I'm extra glad she is home.


3) My Most Controversial Post

I don't think I have ANY controversial posts! I will post this one, I Feel Like A Running Fraud, because that was an INNER controversy with myself. I didn't feel like a real runner, or a real triathlete, even though in actuality I am.


4) My Most Helpful Post

I will nominate What is YOUR Excuse?, in which I counter-attack all possible excuses for not making time to exercise! I firmly believe that we can ALL carve out time to work out. If I can do it, anyone can!


5) A Post Whose Success Surprised Me

I wrote about a necklace I had engraved with the phrase I Am Not Afraid. I Was Born To Do This! My friend and jeweler Erica Sara made it for me. It expressed my thoughts on overcoming my fears, both when it comes to racing half marathons and triathlons and in parenting.


6) A Post I Feel Didn't Get The Attention It Deserved

Oh, heck, I don't know! I honestly don't pay attention to the number of people who view my blog or each post. I also don't keep track of comments, as some people comment on my blog, others write their responses to posts on Twitter and dailymile, and many more people read but don't respond at all. I will, instead, randomly choose one that didn't get a lot of comments: My Sweet Potato Moment, where I explain why I am grateful for all the little "ordinary" things my daughter does...including getting food stains on her clothes.


7) A Post That I Am Most Proud Of

Easily this post is The Swim. I was proud of the way I wrote; I thought it encapsulated a swim session from beginning to end perfectly.

And now I'm supposed to nominate 5 people of my own to do this exercise. I'm not sure if these friends have done their 7 links yet, but if not, I encourage them to do so!

Steena at Finding My Happy Pace
Jacqi at Bloggin 'N Joggin
Jenn at My Little Rays of Sunshine
Jenn at Junk Miles
LB at My Reason To Tri

"It's My Favorite Time of the Day"

A few months ago I wrote about me reading the Harry Potter series to my son, D. He is now 7 years old, and definitely ready for the books. I was so excited to read them with him; I tore through the books as they came out several years ago, and loved losing myself in the wizarding world. I had hoped that D would enjoy the books as much as I did....and I'm thrilled that he loves them even more than I could have hoped for! He hangs onto every word, and remember details that I quickly forget.

We are now 2/3 of the way done with book 3 (The Prisoner of Azkaban). I'm surprised at how quickly we've moved through them; after all, we just started with book 1 in February! After we read each book, we watch the movie during a special movie night (complete with popcorn and Drumstick ice-cream cones!) Of course, he's only watched the first two movies so far, but watching the movies together after reading the books has added to our shared experience.

It's nice seeing him branch out from his Star Wars mania, too. He has been deeply into Star Wars for a few years now, although I don't see his love for all things Anakin Skywalker and Obi Wan Kenobi fading anytime soon. I love asking him questions like "would you rather be a Jedi or a wizard?" or "would you rather hold a light saber or a wand?" or "would you rather fly in an x-wing fighter or on a broomstick?" Questions like those send him into a tizzy, as he CANNOT choose between his two loves, Star Wars and Harry Potter.

I have been reading the books out loud to him. He is more than capable of reading the books on his own, but I really wanted to share the entire experience with him. It's been good for many reasons: I get to re-read the books; when we come to a word he doesn't know I define it for him; we're able to stop for him to ask questions; and, of course, I get my cherished snuggle time.

Last night I asked him if he minded me reading the books to him. I was sure he'd answer yes, as I thought he'd rather read the books on his own, where he could tear through them quicker. His answer surprised me: "No, it's my favorite time of the day. I get to spend time with you and hear the book."

Yes, the kid's a charmer. And he has my heart.

Happy Mother's Day!

It's Mother's Day. I'd love to write a post about how much it means to me to be my children's mother. I tried last year, writing about my son and my daughter. But really, I can't write what I feel. I am nowhere near an eloquent enough writer to be able to express the joy, pride and happiness I get from parenting these two children, the most precious gifts I've ever received.

So, I'll leave it at that. My love is unexpressable.

Happy Mother's Day to all of you fabulous mothers out there!

The End of an Era

I've written before (actually, I've written about it many times here on my blog) how I wish I could freeze time. How my children are growing up too fast. How their childhood seems to be vanishing before my eyes.

Today I attended the Mother's Day Tea at A's preschool. And it hit me, for the first time, that when school ends in one month, I will no longer have a preschooler.

Whoa.

I've been involved in preschool since my son, D, started at age 2, in 2006. Heck, we'd even done Mommy-and-Me through our synagogue's preschool, so technically I've been involved since he was 6 months old in 2004! But he started "real" preschool when he turned 2, going three days a week. I kept him going three days a week when he was 3, and reluctantly sent him all five days when he turned 4 (at our synagogue, when they turned 4 they all HAD to go five days a week). I vividly remember attending his Hannukah performance during his last year there. I was crying, because I knew it would be my last time attending the annual preschool Hannukah performance. My daughter would be attending preschool the next year at a local Presbyterian church. I am a very sentimental woman, and soaked up every last moment of that preschool. But I still had a few years of preschool with A to look forward to.

And now, we have only a month left. Next year she will be in a pre-kindergarten program through our school district, so she will officially be in elementary school. My preschooler days are numbered. And I know that before I know it, D will be leaving elementary school for middle school (he starts 2nd grade next year but gosh it goes so fast!) and then my kids will both be in high school and then......

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

I need to allow myself to mourn the passage of this time of my life. Preschool is such a precious time, where the kids learn new songs, sit in circle time, and finger paint. Where they tend to invite the whole class to their birthday parties. Where they are at their most innocent. Where they love their mommies unconditionally and unabashedly.

I need to brace myself....because come August, elementary school here we come!

7 Years of Motherhood

Today my oldest child, D, turns 7 years old.

I have written before about how much I love him; about how much I have learned from him; about my challenges watching him grow up. He is my pride and joy. I simply adore that boy.

Not to say that raising him is all fun. He and I butt heads almost daily. We are very much alike: stubborn, willful and independent. Sometimes we'll be getting into an issue (eating his vegetables, getting up in the morning for school) and I'll think, "Aha! Karma!" for I'm sure my parents had similar issues with me as a child.

He is still a mama's boy, despite my fears earlier in the year. Just the other day he told me I was his "forever girl". He doesn't like me to put on lipgloss, telling me that I look beautiful already. And he loves his snuggles, hugs and kisses, especially at bedtime. When J is out of town on business, D begs every night to sleep with me.

I know it won't always be like this, and that sooner or later (hopefully later) he'll pull away. But until that day comes, I will cherish every hug and kiss.

Seven years ago, my life changed---for the better. I had no idea how big a hole was in my life until my sweet son came and filled it.

It Keeps Getting Better

This morning I was in my gym's locker room when I noticed a woman sitting on a bench, nursing her baby. I asked how old the baby was, and commented that I missed those newborn days, and how much I had enjoyed nursing.

The woman told me her son was 3 months old, and that he was her first child. "I don't want him to get any older," she told me. "I love this stage."

I had to agree with her to a point. It's no secret that I desperately want to hold on to my kids' childhoods as long as I can. I cherish every stage and hate to see them grow up, even though I know it's the natural, healthy progression. That newborn stage was magical, especially with my son, D. I remember wailing to J WHILE STILL IN THE HOSPITAL AFTER GIVING BIRTH that time was going so fast...and at that point D was only a few days old!

But then I had to reflect. When D was 3 months old, he was adorable---but really, there were minimal things he could do. He nursed, pooped, and slept. He wasn't sitting up yet. He wasn't even rolling over. Our big milestone was that he was smiling. So while he was precious, and trust me, I LOVED that stage with him, there wasn't too much interaction. (I'm not even going to discuss A at 3 months old....freshly home from the NICU, she was a medically fragile mess.)

Every month that goes by, my kids become more and more interactive. Take D, for example. At almost 7 years old, he is inquisitive, verbal and fun. We are able to DO things together the way you can't with a 3 month old---play board games, go to movies, have abstract conversations about religion. And my daughter, A....at age 4 1/2 she has come a long way from the helpless infant in the NICU. She helps me grocery shop, cook, and fold laundry. We laugh, play and talk about her day.

Do I miss the infant stage? You bet. There is nothing like being your child's world, of having them depend on you for every need. But would I trade my kids' current stages to go back? No way. As much as I dread them growing older, I AM having more fun with each passing stage. Can't wait to see what tomorrow brings!

Appreciating Typical

We have about a million hours of video footage of the kids, and are finally in the process of transferring the tapes to DVD (so we can actually watch them). Yesterday I put one of the DVDs on. The one that got randomly chosen started when my son, D, was 21 months old and ended a few months after his birthday. His entire 2-year old birthday party is recorded, which reveal a very pregnant Sugar Magnolia (my daughter, A, was born just 2 months after his 2nd birthday). I hadn't seen this since we shot the video, and I, too, was entranced.

It was amazing to see how little D was. At the time, he seemed so grown up, like such a big boy. He was always very precocious, even at that age. We have footage of him, at 21 months old, singing the entire alphabet. He had the Fisher Price Little People A to Z Zoo and was rattling off the names of all 26 animals---even obscure ones like ostrich, nightingale and yak. After the birthday party scene, we have footage of him riding his tricycle for the first time (a gift from my father and step-mother) and although J had to help him a bit, he pretty much understood how to ride it.

The more I watched, the more my emotions changed. First I felt happy reliving these fun moments. Then I felt nostalgic. I don't remember D being this young, and again I felt like time is getting away from me. Suddenly I felt awe. After having A, with all her developmental delays, it absolutely floored me that D knew the alphabet at 21 months and was riding a tricycle at 2. Finally, I felt sad. The things that come so easily to D are so hard for A. When she was 2, she had just started to crawl. Even now, at 4 1/2, she doesn't a trike with half the finesse that D did at age 2.

Since D was my first child, and was either developmentally on time (said his first word before he was one, walked at 13 months) or even early (he was reading at age 3) I thought that's what all kids did. When he was born, he latched on right away and was a champion nurser until I weaned him at 14 months old. He sat through, and understood, his first movie (Curious George) at age 2. I never appreciated how TYPICAL my son is. He hit all his milestones---speech, gross motor, fine motor, feeding, even potty training--when he was "supposed" to.

It never occurred to me that my second child would have so many challenges. Not able to eat and require a feeding tube? Not being able to walk until age 3 1/2? Not passing her hearing test and requiring hearing aids? It wasn't on my radar. But now I celebrate her milestones with a fervor that I never felt with my son. Sure, when D hit his milestones I was the proudest mama ever. I relished every little thing he did--and I still do. But with A, it's different. I don't just relish her accomplishments, I shout from the rooftops! Because everything is so much more difficult for her, what she does means so much more.

Now I know better. I know that typical development is a thing to be cherished and not taken for granted. And trust me---I don't.

Tears and Books

My son, D, age 6, is a voracious reader. He's been reading since he was 3 years old, and as of last year in kindergarten (at age 5) he was reading chapter books--sometimes 2-3 in one day. He is really into series books, and likes to own the books in the series. His favorites are Magic Treehouse, Beast Quest, Encyclopedia Brown, and the Boba Fett books. He is currently in the middle of reading The Chronicles of Narnia.

Needless to say, with him owning so many chapter books, he was running out of room on his bookshelf. Last week he cleaned out his books and gave all the ones he deemed too "babyish" to A. In turn, I had to clean out A's bookcase, and get rid of all the books that were too babyish for her. I ended up with a huge pile of books which I gave to my next door neighbor (who has a one year old; she was thrilled to get the books).

This whole process made me very sad. I've written before how I would love to slow time down, how time is just getting away from me. It seems like just last year when I was reading these "baby" books to my infant D. We spent night after night with these books....reading them...looking at the pictures. We had our favorites. Now they are cast out of his bedroom, to make room for books that I thought he wouldn't be reading for many more years (is my first grader REALLY reading Narnia?) In one afternoon, he disposed of all little-boy reading material.

And what of my daughter? She now loves to read books about Dora the Explorer, Olivia and the Disney Princesses. Although she still occasionally looked at the baby books, there was no need to keep them. Her bookcase is now filled with D's books; a whole new set of books to explore with her.

I know they are only books, but they represented a big part of my kids' childhoods. They were part of years of nightly tuck-ins, lullabies and snuggles. I will never get that phase back. The progression is forward, not backward. I cried many tears last week while cleaning out the bookcases. I know it's natural...but it's hard.

Relaxing and Chilling

This week, save for one speech therapy appointment, we have had nothing to do. All of A's school-based services were cancelled due to the holiday, and I had cancelled her private OT and PT as they interfered with my romantic get-away with my husband. No ballet, no karate....just relaxing and chilling with the family. My kind of week.

Usually I am running around like a maniac chauffeuring my two kids from one activity to another. I wrote in the spring about my crazy schedule; this year it is even busier:

Monday:
1 hour of speech therapy for A (through the school district)
1/2 hour of adapted P.E. for A (through the school district)
1 hour of speech therapy for A (through our private insurance)
Take A to school

Tuesday:
1/2 hour of physical therapy for A (through the school district)
Take D to karate

Wednesday:
1/2 hour of occupational therapy for A (through our private insurance)
1 hour of physical therapy for A (through our private insurance)
Take A to school
Take D to basketball practice

Thursday:
Take A to ballet
1/2 hour of occupational therapy (through the school district)
Take D to karate

Friday:
1 hour of speech therapy for A (through the school district)
1/2 hour of adapted P.E. for A (through the school district)
1/2 hour of deaf/hard-of-hearing therapy (through the school district)
Take A to school

Saturday:
D has a basketball game
A has 45 minutes of horse therapy


Sunday:
D has Sunday School

This list does not include picking D up from school every day (J takes him daily, thank goodness), picking A up from school 3 days a week, homework, random doctor's appointments, working on the educational foundation I helped to found, playdates, volunteering in D's class once a week, cooking dinner every night, making lunches, and all the various little details that every mom has to do, not to mention the stuff that a mother of a child with special needs has to do. Plus, I need to make time to work out every day, since I'm training for half marathons and triathlons, and read my books for my monthly book club.

So yes, having a week with virtually nothing to do? My idea of heaven.