Books

Books have always been my favorite.  I would chose reading over most any other activity.  I've been in countless book clubs over the years.  Finding the library is always top priority when I've moved to a new place.  And, I love to own books just so I can pass them on to others with an urgent, "You've got to reading this!"

So, it has been hard to watch my boy as he has struggled to read.  It was evident to me ever since he was a baby that his mind worked differently than my older kids.  He reached milestones at his own pace, and in his own way. Learning to read was no different.  He loved letters early on and knew all the sounds they made before he started preschool at age 3, but somehow the connection between those letters, those sounds and the words they could make was a huge hurdle for him. When he was a kindergartener, and on the advice of a friend, I got the book, "Teach Your Child to Read in 100 Easy Lessons."  We sat down to start with Lea (only 20 months younger) along for the ride.  We worked through the book together and these two siblings were staying right on pace with each other, until about lesson 50.  Suddenly, it clicked in Lea's head, and like my other two readers, she was remembering sight words and making sense of letter combinations, and, quite amazingly, she was reading!

And, Davis wasn't.

He was still laboriously sounding out every.single.word.  Even when it appeared on a page several times, he couldn't remember it from one line to the next; sometimes even from one sentence to the next.  Words like "the" and "to" would
constantly trip him up.  It was ever more apparent to me that the English language is seriously messed up.  And, that something was not clicking for my boy.

I have come to learn in the past couple years that if nothing else, I am my child's advocate.  Often the only one he has.  It was difficult to get anyone in the school to take my concerns seriously.
"He just has a speech delay."
"It will come in time."
"He isn't ready yet...he needs to be in school longer."
Nothing, however, felt right.

One day I went to lunch with my visiting teachers and another lady they visit.  We somehow got on the topic of her family's struggle with dyslexia and like a spotlight in my head, I knew that that was what Davis had. I just knew it.  As soon as I got home I started to research all I could find about dyslexia.  I contacted friends who I knew had children who struggled with it.  I called several literacy centers in town looking for answers.  I was told by more than one person that since he was only 6, he was too young to be tested.  Yet, everything I read talked about how much early intervention can help those with dyslexia.  I knew if he had it, it was best to get him help now, and not wait until he was struggling through 3rd grade or until the school reading specialist noticed something.

After much push and shove on my part, I was finally able to get him tested.  The doctor worked with him for a couple hours and when the results came back, I was not surprised to learn that Davis is dyslexic.

Now, after a year of tutoring and extra help from teachers, I am in awe at the reader that has emerged.  His abilities have skyrocketed.  Reading is still a struggle for him, and it might be for his whole life.  Additionally, his dyslexia affects memory, attention, spelling, writing, speech, math facts and other areas of his academic life.  This isn't something you cure or fix.  It is the way his brain functions and something he will have to work around for always.  But, learning about his uniquely wired brain has opened my eyes to a whole new way of looking at my son.  The abilities he has and the ways I can see his mind working through things far outshine the disabilities and struggles.

And, at last, he LOVES to read.  We are working through the Magic Treehouse Books, just like I did with my bigger kids.  He is excited about each new book, each new chapter.  Tonight as I tucked him in, our chapter read and the cliffhanger ending waiting for us tomorrow, he said, "I just love to read, Mom! I love books!"

Me, too, my boy.  But not as much as I love you!

Listening

We pulled up to the curb to wait, like we do every day, for the elementary schoolers. The little girls were both asleep in their car seats as Davis wormed his way from the back seat, up to the front, and climbed onto my lap. He snuggled in and I asked him about his day at school. He told me about the cutting project he did at school; about waving to his speech teacher, but not going to her class today; about the story his teacher read and the game he played. He talked and talked, which isn't typical for my boy. Or, maybe it just isn't typical because he is in the middle of our family, smashed between two very talkative sisters. For these minutes, he had my full attention. I listened with my ears and my heart and I remembered how much I adore him. Mid sentence he said, "I want a kiss and a hug!"

I obliged.

"I love you Davis,"

"Yeah. Daddy loves me, too."

I'm glad he knows, and I'm trying to show it more often. I want to create more of these perfect moments.

grace

"Davis, why are you dragging the rug upstairs?"
"I need it to make my guy."
"You can't take the rug upstairs, sweetie. Put it back in the kitchen."
"Oh, man!"

This conversation happened this afternoon and I didn't really think much of it. Unfortunately, many conversations I have with my bitty boo are like this: vague, nonsensical (it seems), and dismissed. He is hard to understand. Even though I can decipher so many more words now than I could a year ago, it is still often hard to catch exactly what he means, his intent, his heart.

In so many ways, my boy is so very capable. He is sometimes frustratingly independent... helping himself to whatever he wants in the kitchen; finding the hidden remote and turning on a show; trying to clean up messes on his own (and making a bigger one in the process). But, when it comes to words, it is often a guessing game for me.

I know there is so much going on in that head of his. Every day he surprises me with something he says, revealing something he knows that I didn't know he knew, but that he is very much old enough to know. He is nearly 5, but I often forget what my other kids did at that age. It is easy to treat him like someone much younger.

Tonight, when I walked into his room to help with the bedtime routine, I saw his "guy. He really was working on something.  It is hard to tell in the picture below, but he had taken the bathroom towels and stuffed them in the shirt and pants. He had tucked the pants bottoms into his shoes and borrowed Daddy's gloves from the garage for hands. I'm not sure what plan he had for the kitchen rug when I intervened, but my boy had, in fact, been making a 'guy' and I had dismissed it as something I wasn't understanding. Again.

I'm kind of a slow learner. I have been taught this lesson with Davis before: to listen and pay attention and not dismiss his words as something unintelligible. I'm sure my boy gets frustrated with a mom who can't seem to understand what is going on in his active, intelligent mind.

I'm just as sure that my Father in Heaven gets frustrated with me, too, as He attempts to teach me the same lessons, over and over again; the lessons of patience, love, charity, humility. I have been given experiences that should have (and did, for a time, usually) produced these things in me, and yet, often I fail to remember those lessons, those virtues. I am too quick to anger, too unkind, too selfish. But, just like my sweet boy seems to always give me another day, another chance, to figure it out, my Father keeps sending me chances to finally learn these lessons of life.

And, that is grace.

Halloween

I think I got the worst Halloween costume pictures of all time this year. Bummer.

But, here is how it went down, in case you were wondering....

Dal was a bat with wings courtesy of a (now dead) umbrella. They looked good, but he found that having such a big wingspan was prohibitive when reaching into candy bowls at the neighbors' houses. He still managed a sugary haul, so I guess it is all good. Oh, and he was a little disgruntled that the wings didn't actually provide flight.

Kate's {simple} request to be a mermaid proved a bit challenging to this mom who refused to create flesh colored anything and doesn't believe in shells for shirts.  Plus, my sewing skills are pretty minimal.  Luckily, she was thrilled with this funny tulle and sparkle fin and even agreed to wear long sleeves.

Have a 2-year-old at Halloween is so fun!  Love this little kitty!

Having a picky 3-year-old is NOT so much fun at Halloween.  Davis had a cute scrubs set, courtesy of Gram, and I cut down one of Chad's old lab coats (he is holding it in his hand), but he refused to wear ANY of it.  Except the stethoscope (his adoration of which provided the inspiration for the costume in the first place). Ah, well, maybe next year.

blooming

Around these here parts, I'm traditionally the planner, the calendar-keeper, the long-term thinker.

Except when I'm not.

Chad and I seem to be a good balance that way.  I think long term about stuff like family vacations, schools for the kids, record-keeping and decorating the house.  He thinks long term about stuff like money and career and...landscaping.  He has become the 'master' of the plants, spending all his free time learning about shrubs and perennials, measuring spots in our yard for the future size of the trees, learning which trees will hold up well in our windy, sandy terrain.  Several times I've wanted to just "buy the trees, already" (Like my friend, Jenny, said, "Who needs a landscape plan? Does it say 'whatever is on sale at Lowe's' on it, because that is what's going in!").

But, as spring has sprung, Chad and I have both had such fun watching the baby plants we have selected and planted and watered (and crossed our fingers that they would live) take root and grow and BLOOM!  Everything in our yard is still very infantile.  Both of us trot around the yard during the day, adding a little water here, wondering if we should move something where it will get more sun, adjusting sprinklers (well, actually, that is just Chad, but he does it A LOT. And his lawn is lovely, thankyouverymuch).  It is amazing how excited we get over a new bud on the rose bush or a little blossom on the strawberry plant.  Kind of like how we get excited over the little things in our kids' lives, too, I guess.  What a wonderful time of year to watch the world GROW!

Speaking of our REAL babies...here's how they have been blooming:

Lea is blossoming into a two-year-old a bit early, frequently using her new favorite phrases, "Go away" and "I don't like it."  Hmmm.  Fortunately, she is also a little bit of sunshine as she makes us laugh EVERYday with her world observations (Yook, Mom!), endearing requests ("Yet's rock"---as in, rock in the rocking chair and snuggle), and her self confidence ("I did it!  High five!").  Oh, how we adore this little one!

Having a blast on her first zoo trip (since she wasn't an infant)

Davis is (finally) growing into a big boy and figuring out potty training.  It has been a loooong road with this one (and we still have a long way to go), but he is making progress, which is cause for much celebration from the Mommy.

This is as good as it gets when asking him to look at the camera.

Kate has turned gardener, too.  She helped plant the vegetable garden, planted dozens of GIGANTIC sunflower seeds, and is the watering guru.  We will see (hope with us, will you) if anything comes up.

Kate even made her own plant markers to remember what is planted where!

Dallin is emerging as a social butterfly this summer.  His usual homebody ways have blossomed as he has discovered the freedom his bike (and several near-by friends) affords.  He is usually outside, all day, having many adventures.  He is also the most likely to finish all his chores by breakfast, speedy guy, which is wonderful for me (and awful for Kate, who always gets reminded that "Dallin already finished...hurry up")

Dal at his 3rd grade recorder concert (with the bonus of having cousins in town to come!)

It has been a good first week of summer break!

letter to Grammy

Dear Grandma,

Momma wants to know if I can come visit you until the weather gets nice.  The house has requested a reprieve from my messy shenanigans, and because of the cold weather, I can't go outside to play.  Mom thinks it has been so long since your house sheltered a three-year-old, it might be ready to be, once again, covered in play-doh, marker, cracker crumbs, and copious piles of puzzles and books (some of which have ripped pages).

Can't wait to see you!
Doobie-Doo

P. S. Mom also says that while I'm visiting, it would be great if you could help me figure out the whole potty training stuff.  So, stock up on potty treats (I like M&Ms) and carpet cleaner...I'm not too good at making it in the bowl just yet.

investment

For a mere $2 I bought two days of entertainment.

 It was fun while it lasted.

 Now the stick-ups are all in the garbage and my window needs washing. But, the smiles were worth it.

Right?

all for milk

Milk.  We drink a lot of it around here.  Like 8 gallons a week.  Or something.

I used to be a 'one trip a week' kind of grocery shopper, but since I have to two milk-addicted babies and a fridge that only comfortably holds 3 gallons (I need a deep freezer for extras, but that is another post for another day), I find myself frequenting the grocer's more often than I would like.

The other week I needed to make a milk run. At night. With all four children (plus an extra, just for fun...and because I told his mom I would bring him home from basketball practice).  Since we hadn't carved out time (pun intended) to find Halloween pumpkins yet, I decided the milk run would also serve as our 'pick your pumpkin from the bin' outing.  Not exactly the pumpkin patch experience of the mid-west, but kind of the way it is in these here parts.

Before exiting the car, I told the children that they needed to 1: walk, 2: stay with me, 3: not scream.  As soon as the van door opened, said hooligans children began to 1: run, 2: climb on top of the cart return poles, 3: scream.  This was going to be a pleasure, I'm sure.

I loaded Davis into the car cart (beep beep), the baby into the cart seat and tried to NOT let the other three kiddos get killed as we crossed the parking lot.  The pumpkin bins were our first stop, since they are on the way in.  Chaos ensued, but four plump ones were quickly chosen and loaded into the cart (and only the little guy dropped his 3 or 4 times on the sidewalk).

I walked into the store with the intention of going straight to the dairy case (which, by the way, do they HAVE to put it in the VERY back of the store?), but got a bit distracted by a few other things I needed to get.  By the time we had made it to the back of the store for the milk, and back again to the check-out, I felt a bit like someone stuck in the middle of the Tazmanian Devil's tornado.  Sheesh!  I was glad to get OUT of the store.

But, as we were loading everyone (and every pumpkin) back into the van, I noticed it....pilfered candy in the hands of the 2-year-old.  Eek!  My first instinct (I am ashamed to say) was to stuff it in the back of the van and pretend I wasn't harboring stolen goods.  I mean, the idea of hauling my crew BACK into the store for a $.75 bag of Skittles? Really?  But, the big kids saw the candy. Drat!

Thankfully, my often-shy-Dal was willing to go back into the store alone to return the snitched snack, while I ignored the shrieks of our thief who was screaming "TANDY, TANDY!" at the top of his lungs.  Dal was quick to tell the checker that is was the LITTLE brother who took it, not him.

And, we are honest in our dealings once again.

The moral of this story: Get a milkman.

delay

My cute bitty boo has made such strides in his speech over the past few months.  He can say so many more words for food, for how he is feeling; he can tell me when things hurt and where and if he is cold or hot or sad.

But, sometimes, with some words, it is oh, so evident that he still struggles with his little speech delay.  He'll bound up to me, excited to tell me all about something that just happened.  And, when he is excited and trying to string many words together quickly, it comes out as garbled goop.  He repeats what he just said several times, using inflections and signs to give me clues, ever patient with my quizzical face, but often I still don't know what it is he is trying to say. In those situations, I just scoop him up and give him a hug, because what else can a clueless mommy do?

Today, however, our misunderstanding made me laugh.  Davis came to me and excitedly said "Snow!"  It snowed yesterday and the glorious sunshine of today makes it all so bright and beautiful.  Of course, he wanted to go out and make tracks in the snow.  So I said, "we need to put on your boots."  "Okay. Boots." We found them in the garage and tugged them on.  "Now we need your coat." "Coat!"  We zipped it up.  "How about some gloves?" "No. No gyuves"  But, I insist, because I know he'll try and pick up the snow and then his little fingers will be cold.  So, we pull and tug and tuck the gloves into place.  I walk over to the door to let him out.

"Ready to go, buddy? Ready to play in the snow?"
"No outside.  No snow.  Watch a show!"
"No, go play in the snow.  We put on your boots so you could play outside in the snow!"
"Watch a show!"

He runs (as best he can in his boots) for the steps and races down to the TV.

Oh, boy.  Well, at least he won't get chilly in the basement!

breathe

One of the things I look forward to the most is my Thursday morning Yoga class.  Michelle is the best teacher, so in order to make it to her early class, I load up my dressed-fed-packed brood at 8:10 am, drop the big kids off at the bus stop (waving 'I love you' til the bus rounds the bend), check in the babies at child-watch ('look bubbles!' and toy distractions as I sneak out and try to ignore the tears), and {finally} enjoy an hour to breathe.

Delightful.

Last night, sleep was alluding my Davis (although he refused his nap, so I'm not sure why).  He was awake for a good portion of the early morning hours, which means he, of course, fell back asleep about 5am and slept until 9am.  I missed yoga.

As a {not very close} substitute, I trudged my babies and mat down to the basement to yoga with a recorded teacher on the DVR.  She's not as good, and, quite frankly, the focus isn't there when young ones are crawling all over your downward dog and piggy backing on you child's pose.  But, what can you do?

I was feeling a little bit sorry for myself until I noticed my Doobie Doo following along.  He had spread out a blanket as a mat and was working his sun salutations with the best of 'em.  "I did it!" he shouted, when he bent over for down dog.  My self-pity melted away in my awe of this cutie and his desire to follow in my footsteps, do the things I do, garner my praise.

My 'class' was cut short by a little body crawling into my lap while I was trying to forward fold.  But, as I lifted her up, and she arched her back toward  my mat for a belly tickle (her favorite giggle pose), I felt like my morning had gone BETTER than planned.  And, my body felt good.  Not because I had been sufficiently able to stretch, but because I took a minute to breathe, to see my children for the wonder that they are, and to just 'be' in this blessed time of my life.

Ahhhh.

funny things...

...I've noticed lately:

*My baby LOVES babies!  She loves to rock and give her dolls a bottle.  Today she tried to take her doll for a 'walk' in the stroller.  Problem is, she doesn't know how to walk herself.  How can a girl who is still such a baby herself love to play mommy?
* Bitty boy is talking more and has started to SING his little heart out.  I guess I shouldn't say 'start' since he has been singing for a long time, but now I can tell which song he is performing.  Not so much because I can understand the words, but this boy has great rhythm and pitch!
*Sissy is getting so long and lanky.  She has always loved to dangle from a ledge we have in our house, but now her feet reach the floor!  When did she get so big?
* Mr. D is so darling with his face full of grown-up teeth.  Maybe he won't have as awkward an awkward stage as his mother had to suffer!
*I'm not very good at taking pictures of all these great little moments.  But, I did take some one-year-old shots of this cutie.  Enjoy!

helper

Every toddler has their 'key,' I guess.  Praise at being such a good boy and fear of losing sight of Mommy kept my Dallin doing whatever I asked.  Kate was eager to be the 'big girl,' so getting her to do something was a matter of proving it's grown-up-ness.

With Davis, I've discovered that he loves to be a helper.  If I ask him to hold tight to the cart while we cross the parking lot, he takes off in the other direction.  But, if I say I need him to 'help' me push baby Lea, he'll grab on tight (and grunt as we walk) while he 'helps' me push the cart.  It's like magic.

Tonight, in order to ward off the no-nap grumpies, I told him I needed a pizza making helper.  He gladly washed up and climbed on the stool to assist.  It was cute to watch his little hands smoosh and poke and push the dough.  He love sprinkling on the cheese and adding the toppings; proud to be the big helper.

Later when I noticed that his energetic 'painting' the oil on the crust had resulted in a big grease mark on his shirt, I could only smile as I rubbed on the stain remover.  Shirts will come and shirts will get grimy, but pizza making memories with my 2-year-old helper are some of the 'slow things that stick.'

maybe

If you had been in the parking lot at the church on Tuesday evening when I drove up to drop my cub off at scout meeting, you might have wondered why my toddler was naked in the back seat.  Or, maybe you've had a 2-year-old before.  And, maybe your two-year-old was also obsessed with water.  Maybe you had a day like I did, where your small one went through several sets of clothes because, although obsessed with water (dumping it, filling cups, etc.), he HATES it when his clothes are wet.  Maybe, like me, you came down to a kitchen with 2 inches of water on the floor and a boy repeatedly filling up and dumping cups of water out of the refrigerator dispenser.  Maybe you also found your toddler had climbed up on top of the bathroom counter, several times, to make bubbles in the sink with soap and water.  And, maybe, right before you were going to load up your gaggle of children to do said scout drop-off, your water-lovin' child came to you with outstretched, wet hands and arms.  When you followed him, cautiously, to the source of this wetness, maybe you, too, found that he had been in the bathroom.  Emptying the water from the toilet into the garbage can.  With his hands and a wad of tissue.  ("bye-bye tissue" he chimed, when you flushed it down, his first un-prompted 2-word sentence.  A small speech miracle amid a disgusting cleaning moment.  How quaint!)

Then, maybe you can understand why my boy was in the backseat sans clothes.

Bitty Boo, water free (for a moment) and lovin' on baby sis.

Maybe.

surrender

{picture me, faintly waving a white flag}

I'm wondering what the ramifications would be if I gave up, and conceded victory to the tornado two-year-old who lives in my house.  He has serious angst about things that are put away, folded, stacked, set, cleared, cleaned or stashed in a closet with the door shut.  When he comes across items in said positions, his immediate reaction is to dump, throw, topple, smear and spread disaster across God's green earth. 

{picture me, sitting cross-legged amid massive clutter, serenely repeating the mantra: Two doesn't last forever. Two doesn't last forever. Two doesn't last forever.}

He's cute, though, huh?

I'm pooped. Good night.

Christmas is coming...

Are you excited, too?

taped

Oh, how I pity the book that finds it's way into the heart of this boy....
Affection has it's price. He will, quite literally, love it to pieces. And, in the process, single-handed-ly keep Scotch Tape in business. I'm not an investor myself, but if I were to offer a bit of Motley Fool advice, I'd suggest buying stock now. Because he can't possibly stay in the book-ripping stage forever, can he?
Can he?

Davis's current picks for the "nearly-two" set (all of which have been resurrected via tape at our house)
Noah's Ark, by Lucy Cousins
If You're Happy and You Know It, by Jane Cabrera
Dig, Dig, Digging, by Margaret Mayo and Alex Ayliffe
Peekaboo Zoo, by Susan Hood and Simone Abel

To my bitty boo...

Tonight I let your bathtime linger.

I was the pour-er,
dipping cup in water
and letting flow a slow, steady stream into the tub.
You were 'discoverer,'
experimenting with the way the water hit your fingers,
toes,
toys,
head.
Filling funnel;
pouring cups,
stopping the flow with your chubby toddler hands.

Though you'll never cease being MY baby,
in the coming days, you'll lose your spot as
THE baby.

And, yet, it was so recently that I swaddled my tiny,
5 pound,
winter-born bundle
into my arms and brought home
my boy.

The baby I'd prayed for and wished for and hoped for...
for so long.

You.

one of those days

On days when you do
a lot of looking, but no finding;
a lot of diapering, but still get piddled on (twice);
a lot of cleaning, but without seeing much 'clean';
a lot of delivering, but don't get a lot delivered;
a lot of thinking, but no problem solving;
a lot of laundry, but, well, that never ends....

it is also a good idea to do a little
water fighting
flower gazing
bug tracking
scooter riding
park playing
sunshine enjoying
and {one-year-old} discovering.

Today Davis discovered how to step down the steps all by himself! I never get tired of watching him learn new things!

little piggies

Once upon a time, a long-prayed prayer was answered.
These cuties were purchased before I even knew if my little one was boy or girl, my heart filled with hope for the day little flip-flop-clad feet would toddle about. And, today, I am in awe of my blessings....oh so, so many!


P.S. I'm also amazed he KEEPS them on! However, this is my child who still doesn't say 'mama,' but DOES love to roam the house, collecting various footwear, and saying 'shoes,' 'shoes,' 'shoes.'

Training

I'm in training. For the mommy-lympics. I'll admit, I'm not the world's best housekeeper. I'm not even top-ranking. But there is one event for which my 'coach' has me working hard: speed laundry folding. The idea in this competition is to see who is faster: the laundry folding mommy or the emptying-the-basket baby. My one-year-old is a champion, for his part.

He dives, head first, into a basket of freshly washed clothes, tossing them willy-nilly over his shoulder, through his legs, across the room. He can empty the basket at top speed, afterwhich, he'll cruise the newly minted clean-clothes-clutter, putting his favorite pieces into the basket filled with the dirty clothes. Oh, yes, my friends, he is good.

I'm training hard, though. With each load, I'm becoming more flexible, more agile, more adept. One of the days, in one of our matches, I'm bound to conquer this little giant of sport. Or, he'll get big enough that I can force HIM to do the folding!

Oh, gotta go. My little athlete is off to train for "Swift Toilet Paper Roll Emptying" and "Rapid Book Ripping." Aughhh!