Following Elias

If Only We All Wanted as Much

Or as little.

"Elias is there anything you want for Christmas this year?'

"What did I get last year?"

"Well, I dont know. Are there any presents you'd like, any toys or clothes or games or something you are just hoping to be able to do?" Elias leans his tired body against mine. "If so you can tell the elf and he'll fly to the North Pole tonight and tell Santa."

Elias looks up at our Elf on the shelf, named Larl by his sister.

(When I asked the kids if they had any ideas for names, Olive nodded and spelled out: "L.A.R.... L!" Elias accepted her choice and so Larl was named.)

Elias tips his head back further, holding onto me for support, and attempts to make eye contact with the doll dressed in red. "Larl, um, I hope my family goes for a walk."

Oh Love, I think we can handle that.

And to think, I once thought he never would. Walk. My one pound twelve ounce son. 

It was once all I wanted from Santa too.

(Photo taken on our discharge day, after 94 days in the NICU)

For our family to just take a walk.

I Wouldnt Be Able to Look at Myself in the Mirror

"What are you thankful for?" Nick asks Elias at the dinner table. Elias plays with his fork and looks down.

"Did you hear your Dad's question?" I reach out and touch his head.

"I'm thankful for my chicken." Elias looks at his plate. "And rice."

"Anything else from today? From school? Or from your time with Ms. Julia?"

"That we did an experiment in science."

"Yeah?"

His teacher added Alkaseltzer to water to make it fizz. Mrs. Babcock told me later that when she asked the class what it looked like Elias said: "Beer."

Yup, that's my boy.

"What are you thankful for Mom?"

Where do I begin...?

I'm thankful that it has been a week since Elias has had any major melt-downs. That he didn't squeeze his sister's face when she stole his puzzle pieces but instead said, "Stop Olive I need those!"

That yesterday he sat at the table with his sister and initiated a conversation with her: "Olive, what did you do while I was at school?"

"Play."

"What did you play?" He asked. A follow-up question!  Related to the topic at hand!!

It may seem insignificant for a big brother to ask a little sister about her day, but in our household its downright magical. I'm thankful for moments like these that make me stop and listen. That give me hope that my son's injured brain is far more capable than impaired.

While dancing in the kitchen last night, both kids held my hands and spun around me until we all felt dizzy. Elias let go and stumbled toward the table, then said, "Its like you are a rotary and I just got off."

My boy who makes metaphors and memorizes roadways. Disabled what? Disabled who?

For an activity in class, Elias chose his favorite body part and explained why. Mrs Babcock hung their pictures in the hallway; a lot of the 3rd graders chose their hair or eyes or lips or hands-- Elias was the only one who chose his head. This is what he dictated to his Aide, Ms. Julia:

As hard as this life of mine is at times, I wouldn't be able to look at myself in the mirror, if I didn't recognize the beauty and wonder that is Elias.

Happy Thanksgiving All!

"Why?"

I curl my body around Olive's in her small green toddler bed.

"I don't want to go to bed!"

"Its bedtime Babe."

"I don't like my green bed!"

We recently put a sleeping bag and yoga mat in our room next to our bed so when Olive comes to join us in the middle of the night she has her own space instead of dominating ours. The downside is she now thinks this is her bed and throws a fit when I carry her to her room at night.

"I don't love my green bed!!"

"I like your green bed. I think its perfect." I push her fine brown hair, the same texture as mine, out of her eyes. "You know Olive, some kids don't even have a bed."

She looks at me concerned, "Why Mama?"

I think of all the kids from my school who live in trailers with families three times the size of mine.

"Some families just can't afford to buy beds for their kids."

"Why Mama?" She draws out the word why, sings it almost, like butter.

"Well, because beds cost money and not every family has enough money to buy one."

"Why Mama?"

"Well, um,... because not everyone learned how to share when they were kids."

"Why Mama?"

"Because maybe their parents didn't teach them to share."

"Why Mama?"

"Um...maybe they were just too busy."

"Why Mama?"

"Um...I don't know." Her why's have won. I can't find the answers. "I'm just glad you like to share."

"Why Mama?"

This could go on forever.

And how do we explain inequality to the innocent eyes of a child?

Flowers

Happy birthday to my Mom and my niece Tess and Happy November 15th to all!

Conversations with my Almost-Three-Year-Old

 

Scary Monster

"Elias scared me." Olive leans her head against my shoulder.

"I know sweetie."  

He just grabbed you by the hair and banged your head into the kitchen cabinet! You should be scared!! Hell, he scared me!!!!

He changed from silly older brother playing horsey and bucking bronco to a whirl of irrational fury. Just like that. A snap. A switch. And there's no words or logic to turn him back.

He might not have meant to grab Olive so hard but once he does he can't stop. Our angry response only tightens his grip. Its like all the connections between his brain and muscles short circuit. And overload.

NOOOO he cries and swings at whoever intervenes. He roars like a hurt hippo. He grunts and kicks and squeezes and scratches.

I sit on Olive's floor, holding her in my lap. She looks at me and says, "Elias a scary monster."  

Oh sweetie...my babies...

Wine Coffee Beer

"What's that?" Olive hangs from the front of the shopping cart and points to a box of Merlot.

"Its wine in a box."

"Why?"

"Because..." I think about saying because Anchorage doesn't recycle glass, or because then you can't see how much you drink, but I'm aware of the line listening and want to keep my answers short.

"Why?"

"Because it is."

"I like wine!" Olive grins.

I smile at my daughter and glance at the people behind me. "No you don't. Its a grown-up drink."

"Why?"

The couple in front of me smiles.

"Its kind of like coffee."

Kind of. Kind of not.

"I like coffee!"

"You're silly!" I smile at the man behind me. And the man behind him. We are all in line to buy alcohol early on a Saturday evening.

Olive gives me her best silly face. "Yeah, and I like beer too!!!"

Oh shit, she knows too much already.

 

Too

I sit at the table doing a dinasour puzzle with Olive. Its quiet as we look for matching pieces.

Earlier she poured a bottle of Elmer's glue on the rug, play tent, laminate floor, and all over the bathroom. (I should have known she was too quiet.) She ran away from me screaming--NO, NO, NO-- when it was time to get dressed. She demanded a treat from her Halloween bag for breakfast and cried a bucket of tears when I said No.

She doesn't look up from the puzzle. "I love you too Mommy. And Daddy and Elias and Tonzy. I love you all too."

How did she know I needed that?

Side-lined

Been benched from soccer due to Plantar Fasciitis and now I'm missing hockey due to Olecranon Bursitis.

(That's my elbow. Not sure why the picture is sideways.)

Man I feel old. And stressed. And frumpy as I reach for another handful of chocolate chips.

Can't play so I eat.

Been a rough year for me physically.

Oh yeah, and I'm still struggling with chronic hives.

(She scratches her scalp as she writes.)

Whhhhaaaaaa!

And yet it could be worse, it could always be worse.

I could wake up to my husband looking like this every day.

(Or the world could always be on its side.)

Or something could happen to one of them:

So I'll stop complaining.

For now.

The Land of the Free Unless

My daughter, bare-bottomed and bold, jumps from the arm of the couch to the dog bed below.

She howls like a wolf and hugs me like a bear.

Olive, my almost-three-year-old little tyrant, smirks as she demands: "More water Mama! More Water! MAMA!"

She walks around the house with a yard sign given to her at our local library. She insists on "hanging" it, wooden post and all, from the kitchen table. When her brother grabs it so he can hold it closer to read-- A Library Champion Lives Here-- she screams, "No My sign!" Instant tears. That stop as quickly as they appear.

"Nuggle me Mama!" she says at night. So we lie together like spoons. "I love you Mama. And Daddy. And Elias. And Tonzy. And my friends. And my bears. And my bed..."

When we take a walk, she runs. She jumps. She picks up stones and chunks of snow. When she sees a small wall she tilts her head to the side, looks up at me, and says, "Lalala?" When I nod she climbs up and walks along it, one foot in front of the other, with her arms out-stretched, singing, "Lalalalalalalalala...."

At dinner she stands in her chair with a handful of chicken looking at her reflection in the darkened window. She shoves too big of a bite in her mouth and opens her lips wide.

"Sit down Olive!"

"But I can't see."

"Sit."

She jumps onto my back, her arms tight around my neck. "Horsy ride Mom!"

As we do dishes she dances to James Brown, throwing herself on the floor and spinning around on her back. Whoa-oa-oa! I feel good, I knew that I would, now...

I hate to think that someday all this uninhibited energy could be shackled by sexism.

That someday she'll look at her reflection and think, "I'm not _________ enough."

Pretty... Tall... Skinny... Light...

That she'll judge herself in relation to her value to men, instead of by her ability to be true to the light that guides her.

I want her to stay this bold. To leap and howl and love her body bare.

This afternoon, I read about school girls in Pakistan, attacked by the Taliban, with acid, just for attending school. 

I live in the United States of America, the land of the supposed "free" --and yet I worry about the future here for women and girls, especially if it is up to gray-haired white men to decide our reproductive rights. To define rape. To legislate our bodies.

I just don't understand how any man can think he knows what is best for a woman. Hell, I don't know what's best for myself, I am in no position to make decisions for others.

The land of the free unless...

Its hard not to get political these days.

Especially when it is so personal.