Fireside Chat, Minus Fire

Hi. 

Lately, I have been near hysterical at any given moment, but today I am getting stuff done, and my outlook has improved.  I thought it might be nice just to talk to you for a minute.  You know, while I eat my 5th yogurt.  (Hey - I never said I wasn't still stressed out!)

So.  A little more about my kids:

Abbie has always been a mystery.  She doesn't perform on demand.  Some babies, out of sheer desire to impress, will answer all your questions and promptings.  Abbie was not that child.  For all I knew, her mind was a permanent blank.  Then, one day I was engaged with Grant and just happened to glance up at the play pen while a DVD I had in was showing the letters of the alphabet, set to classical music.  Abbie said all the letters except j and q.  Her age: 14 months.  Please note that she said the letters, but not to me.  That was the moment when I realized that there was plenty going on inside Abbie's mind, but not much being communicated.  And she had no desire to change that.

"Nope.  Not telling."



 

Grant I knew was thirsty for knowledge.  And I assumed he was smart, even if not to the extent he has been proven to be.  I probably did wrong, here, but when I saw that he was starting to read before kindergarten, I neither encouraged nor prevented it.  I was petrified that he would resort to being a trouble maker if he was bored in kindergarten.  He was already hard to keep still.  So I would read, and let him read when he wanted... 

By the way, if you want your children to like books - be seen with one at all times.  My kids think books are cool because they saw me being excited about books when they were toddlers.  And I'm one of those people who giggle when I read.  Or cry.  All the stuff.  Sometimes, I even fight with the author or characters.  "Don't do it!  Don't  you dare!  ...I can't believe you did that.  That was a terrible idea.  ...See?  I told you not to do it."  Books are our friends.

Another thing about Knowing and Grant is this:  I call him my Baby Engineer.  If you recall, I am from an engineering university town.  Grant is a type, and it's a type I recognized.  One that I am comfortable with.  One that I love.  But I am not calling him an engineer because I want him to be one.  I could care less what he does, professionally, so long as he can support himself and is happy.  I call him that so he will know that he has peers.

When you are told that your child is having trouble with the other kids at school, and that he is unhappy (and has been for MONTHS and no one told you), and has been making wild statements about killing people, your imagination immediately goes to the worst possible images:  Your child shooting at random at the top of buildings, or walking up to some student who has long forgotten what unkind remark he or she made and hurting him/her in some way.  Your child blowing up buildings while inside them.  Your child committing suicide alone in his room.  Your child standing next to you and you not knowing that he wants to die or to kill or that his heart is breaking...or broken.

I wanted there to be a place in his mind that remembered that if he is patient, he can go somewhere and be surrounded by people that are similar.  A different kind of classmate.  Classmates who understand.  I wanted him to be able to look around and say, "Ah, yes.  Those are my people."

"Yay, robots!"

 

Grant and Abbie are going to perform solos in a musical recital on Saturday.  It's their first time performing.  Poor Grant was given a very hard song to learn and perfect.  He has told me he is nervous.  Abbie has been given a song she already knew, and one that she has advanced past.  We are not particularly worried about her.  I have to work Saturday morning, but will leave early in order to meet them at their concert.  I really need this to be a positive experience, but it seems like luck is against us in the details, at least for Grant. 

Cross your fingers for us.