Sydney, Age Six

Once in a while something triggers an old memory that I had all but forgotten, something I would have blogged about back then if I had been blogging at the time. Tonight a comment from a Facebook friend triggered one of those memories. I will always associate this Facebook friend with this particular event.... It was the last day of first grade for Sydney, which coincided with the closing of our small community’s school. It had been quite a year for everyone involved in the education of Sydney as we all tried to manage her behaviors that come with having Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS) and Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD). Sydney’s first grade teacher was extremely talented and had taught much of the year with Sydney wrapped around her legs, literally. Sydney’s teacher and I had asked many times for increased services for Sydney without the results we hoped for. Through no fault of her own Sydney was not able to behave herself. There was no keeping her in her seat. She spent most of her day wandering the room and pestering the other students. There was no amount of discipline and no incentive program that could help Sydney control her impulses at the age of six and she was not yet on a medication that made a real difference.

 

That last day of school there was to be an assembly to hand out awards, recognize students and staff, and say goodbye to our small community school. Emotions were running high and tears were flowing. Patrons were both sad and angry because our school was closing. A large crowd gathered in our small school’s gymnasium. Teachers were seated in chairs at the front of the crowded building, while approximately eighty students from grades one through five were seated on the floor. Parents and community members sat in rows of chairs or stood, and the speeches and awards began. Almost immediately Sydney began to wiggle and I began to sweat. What were they thinking sitting her in the midst of all those children without an adult? Sydney’s wiggles turned to bouncing and swaying back and forth. Next, she was putting her hands on the children close to her and trying to engage them in a regular game of tag as they swatted at her like a gnat that could not be dissuaded. I was sick to my stomach. I could not reach her or get her attention without creating a bigger scene than she was making. The teachers were also unable to get to her easily without moving a lot of students. Then, just when I thought I could not be more embarrassed, Sydney began crawling around, weaving in and out of the children, distracting them and causing them to have to shift and move as she crawled around them and over their laps. The seconds felt like minutes to me and I shifted in my seat unsure of what to do. I was wishing the floor would open up and swallow me. I recall hoping that everyone was remembering that I had six OTHER children that DID know how to sit still and they were not judging my parenting on the behavior of my youngest child. I desperately wished I could whisper to the person sitting next to me, “Remember, Sydney was neglected for the first year of her life and she has many excuses for her behavioral issues. The Smiths are really good people. Pass it on.”

I was hoping that Sydney would eventually crawl over to the edge of that crowd. Maybe an adult would be brave enough to grab her and put her in a headlock until I could get out of the crowded seating where I was confined and take possession of my little angel. But as luck would have it, Sydney wormed her way further and further from me, toward the front of the gym jostling children all along the way. And then she was UNDER the chairs the teachers were sitting in, slipping between the legs of one chair after another, right up front where every eye was focused. If anyone had missed Sydney’s performance amongst the children, they surely were not missing it now. I cannot remember now how many adults tried to coax Sydney out from under their chairs as she squirmed her way down the line. The librarian, Lisa Myers, who had a great relationship with Sydney and genuinely liked her for who she was, lured Sydney out from under the chairs and onto her lap. While I was trying to teleport a message to Lisa that went something like, “Get a vice grip on her or she’ll squirm right out of your arms and escape!” this gentle lady was holding six-year-old Sydney lovingly, cuddling her, whispering softly to her, rubbing her back, smiling down at her with genuine affection, and keeping her calm and quiet. When that assembly was over I couldn’t get to Lisa fast enough. I thanked her and I have thanked her again since that day. Lisa did not just rescue the children that Sydney was distracting that day. She did not just help the adults to refocus on the speaker instead of focusing on the chaos my little girl was causing. Lisa showed me an example that I will never forget. She picked up a child that many of the adults in the room (myself included) probably wanted to take out and paddle. And instead of frowning at her, sternly talking to her, or telling her how disappointed she was in her behavior, Lisa lavished Sydney with affection and smiles.

There are two morals to this story…

The first being: The adults in Sydney’s life have often expected more of her than she can give. That day we sat her in the middle of a crowd of children, without an adult to directly supervise, or medication, and expected her to behave like her peers. When Sydney was unable to behave as her peers, I became embarrassed and I was ready to punish her, or at the very least lecture her. Sydney was doing the best that Sydney could do that day. Lisa recognized that. I love the quote by Albert Einstein, “If you judge a fish by its ability to climb a tree, it will live its whole life believing that it is stupid.”

And the second: Lisa did not know how deeply her kindness toward Sydney would touch me. We can be sure we have influence on the people around us. Whether it is good influence or bad influence is for each of us to determine. When we leave our homes each day we do not know what kind of lesson we might teach someone. You never know who is watching and what impact your example will have on them. The ripples in the water sometimes go far. It takes only minutes to create a great long-lasting memory. It also only takes a minute to wreck someone's whole day or worse. 

So there you have it. The old memory was triggered yesterday when Lisa told me that my kids reflect my hard work on their behalf and that I am a great mom. What she did not know is this: Once in a while when I am ready to throw my hands up in the air, jump up and down, and holler at my little ADHD princess, I think of Lisa and how gentle she was with Sydney that day and instead of the jumping and hollering I am able to pick her up and hug her instead.

For more about Sydney, read Teaching Sydney (Or Trying To)

Find me on Facebook at Quirks and Chaos. Like what you read? Want to become a follower? Click on the Google Friend Following gadget on this blog. It's over on the right side and asks you to subscribe. Or you can add the URL (the web address in your search bar) to your Reading List. You can do that by clicking the plus sign in front of the URL. Thanks! 

Why I Blog

I blog about my special kids. I blog about autism and FAS because I want to educate others. Educating others will make all the difference in how my kids and others are treated in this world. I blog for Tate and Sydney.

I blog to share my experiences with others. I blog because parents need to know that drinking alcohol while pregnant will do irreversible damage to their unborn baby. I blog because adoptive mothers need to know just how hard parenting a child with no impulse control is going to be. I blog because autism is now being diagnosed at a rate of 1 in 66 and many of my readers will be touched by someone with autism, if they are not already. Sometimes my blog posts are encouraging to others but sometimes they are not. I blog for others.

I blog because it is good therapy for me. I have blogged about the disappointments we have encountered, the challenges we have faced, the people who have helped us, and the few who have hurt us. I have blogged about victories and failures, the hard work and the rewards. Sometimes when I blog I am sad, but usually when I blog I am not. I blog for me.

Although much of my audience has never met me, they are getting an intimate look into my life. I wish I knew them better. I would love some feedback, some comments after the posts. With almost 100 posts up now I should be getting a feel for what gets read and shared and what does not, but I am still surprised sometimes which blogs get hundreds of views and which ones only get dozens. I know my kids, siblings, and even cousins are reading. As long as my large family is reading I can always count on at least two-dozen views. HA. I know some of my readers are teachers. A few tell me they are reading and learning. Two of my teacher friends have told me they have learned more from my blog than they have from any other source. That makes me happy on one hand, but sad on another. Of all the people in this world that need to be very well educated about autism, it is our kids’ teachers. They should get a lot better education about their “special” charges and their needs than one mom’s view. It is one in 66 now, folks! Everyone needs to know what autism is in this day and age.

Some of my most-read posts are the ones I write about personal tragedies, not the ones about autism or FAS. The post about my miscarriage, one about the things I regret, and the one I wrote recently when I was filled with angst over my inability to influence someone I love were some of my most popular posts.* Why is that? Why do we all love a train wreck? Why do we all want to read of someone else’s sorrow or regret? Maybe it is so we can exercise those empathy skills that we would not have if we had been born with autism! And, it may be that when we read of others’ trials we can count our own blessings.

If my purpose in writing each post is not to educate or edify, does that mean I should not have written it? Must a Christian ONLY write or speak of things that will encourage others? Must we leave out the heart-rending stories that do not have happy endings? Must we never talk of our past disappointments or our anger? Have I hurt my influence with my writings? I think I know the answers but recently these questions were planted in my mind by a reader.

I realize when I “bare my soul” and share my thoughts in a public way I am opening myself up to criticism. I realize that I have a huge responsibility as a Christian not to hurt my influence. I also realize that I need a thicker shell if I am going to continue to blog. It is a good thing that I have a whole lot more encouragers than I do critics. I have read (and I believe it is true) that for every put-down we hear, we need ten compliments to undo the hurt from the one criticism. “Be careful little mouths what you say” as I used to sing to my children.

One of my favorite gospel preachers once said we can judge people’s actions but we had better not judge their motives. We cannot see a man’s heart or know his motives. Only God can. Sometimes people judge me by the words I write. I cannot fault them. I wrote the words and invited those people to read them. But, when people try to see behind the words and imagine that my words are not sincere or that my heart is bitter, can it be that my heart is not the one that needs examined? For the record: I do believe that we can judge others. A favorite quote of non-Christians is that we should not judge others based on John 7:24 but they never want to finish the verse which says we must judge others with RIGHT judgment. You will find the same idea in Matthew 7:1-5 and it finishes with the idea that pulling splinters out of an eye is hard to do if your own eye contains them. I’ll step off the soapbox here.

I will continue to blog: for Tate and Sydney, for others, and for me. From time-to-time I may have someone question my motives or even my sanity. My motives are pure and my sanity…. Well, I have as much as I ever did. 

*links to posts mentioned: Loving Chaney, Regrets, Sometimes There Is Nothing I Can Do

Next up: Why I don’t usually get excited about those autism feel-good stories I see in the news.

Choosing My Nursing Home

This is a follow-up to my last post entitled “Don’t blink” I started my blog to raise autism awareness and encourage people to interact with people who have special needs. So the way that post was received took me by surprise. I received a lot more feedback than usual. Many people told me it was their favorite post to date. I decided I’d take another stab at blogging about parenting, in general. Thanks again to those who have encouraged me.   

Last week I accompanied my dad to a pre-op meeting. He is going to have some knee surgery. He has a terrible cold and his knee is bothering him so I convinced him to sit on a bench while I went to retrieve the car, saving him a few steps. He was reluctant to let me, afraid to inconvenience me, but I was able to persuade him to allow me to save him the extra exercise, which he did not need.

As I walked away, I wondered how many times my dad had gone out into the cold to do something for me, or how many hundreds and thousands of steps he had saved me over my lifetime. I wondered how many kind deeds he had done for me that I could remember and how many that I will never even know about. Why did I offer to save him those steps? Because I love him. If you have good parents you will understand. We love our parents because they taught us what love is, by loving us first. If asked to describe the devotion involved in a child/parent relationship, I’m certain I would never be able to put the depth of love and commitment into words. 

My mom and dad are in their eighties and have been parenting me for almost fifty years. That’s a long time of putting someone else’s needs first, counseling them, encouraging them, and praying for them. My dad can’t do as much as he used to be able to do. He used to be able to work on hydraulic elevators, and fix almost anything that was broken. He cannot do those things anymore. I’ve seen him struggle to finish much more simple tasks lately. My dad, my hero, a man of steel, sometimes needs me to do things for him now. So, I will be there for him, the way he was there for me. I will let him sit on a bench while I go and get the car. I will help him take care of my mom. I will do many of the things for him that he once did for me. I will put his needs before mine. 

Putting others’ needs first: isn’t that what it’s all about? The golden rule?  ...whatever you want men to do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets (Matthew 7:12). It was Jesus who spoke those words. If everyone lived by the golden rule, there’d be no need for any other rule. My mom and dad taught me that rule. If we were to all teach our children that one thing, we could change the world in one generation. Think about it. 

I hope my husband and I have instilled the Golden Rule well in our own children for many reasons, one being: they will pick our nursing home. (haha)  We’ve had a sort of joke around our house for the past few years with our oldest two sons. When we aggravate them, they sometimes say, “Be careful, I get to pick your nursing home.” It seems a long way off, getting old enough for a nursing home. But in reality, time flies. Our lives are compared to vapors in James 4:14.  As I said in the last post, “Don’t blink.”

As my parents become elderly and I’m living my middle-aged years, my oldest children have become young adults. Yesterday morning our oldest son called home to ask his dad for some advice about a car that wouldn’t start. I wondered how many of those phone calls I have made: “Mom, what’s that recipe for…..?” and “Dad, come quick! There’s a raccoon in my chicken house!” As I listened to my husband’s side of the phone conversation, I could hear how willing and happy he was to help our son, as best he could, over the phone. It’s like coming full-circle for me. My husband and my dad are both very wise men. I’m switching gears here and no longer talking about their ability to help with engine repairs or unwanted varmints. Although their knowledge of mechanics and their shotguns have come in handy over the years, their Bible knowledge and wisdom is what really matters. Our oldest called home a few months ago to ask his dad’s political opinion on an issue. Shawn didn’t give him a short answer, but helped him reason it out himself. After they talked, my son wrote this in a blog post: “My dad is the smartest man I know. He’s not a doctor, lawyer, scientist or professor. Ironically, he didn’t even finish college. I’m talking real-world-experience-smart. He’s always pushed me to make hard decisions and trained me to learn from my own mistakes—mistakes, by the way, that he encouraged me to make on my own. This life is a learning experience, and my dad’s my favorite teacher.”  

That blog post, written by my son, touched me and made me realize that our son sees his own father the way I see mine. I wish everyone had the kind of dad I have. I wish everyone had the kind of dad my children have.

My wonderful parents

My folks will hopefully be with me a few more years, but years go so quickly for me lately. Is getting old scary? If I live to be their age will the reality of my life ending be terrifying? My parents seem tired but they don’t seem terrified. Their influence will live on in the lives of their children and grandchildren. They have a lot of things to be proud of. The apostle Paul wasn’t afraid of death. He said “to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). Why wasn’t Paul afraid of death? Because he knew what waited for him after death. The apostle John tells us that we can KNOW we are saved (1 John 5). If I am sure I will spend an eternity in Heaven then what’s to be afraid of?