Tuesday, April 13, 2010

and she doesn't get to know

I had to run errands yesterday. With the kiddos. And Grams.



Buying in bulk just makes sense when you're feeding a family of five.



So we were at BJs. With a cart full of cheese and green beans and the like.



Toby and Grams were in a different lane checking out. While I had Bristel and Trevy perched in the double seated cart. I love the double seated carts! Keeps two of the kiddos contained while still allowing maximum cart fillage. Which means less trips to the store. Have I mentioned that I'm not a big fan of food shopping?







The check out clerk was obviously lonely. And MUCH too talkative. Me? My life is pretty full these days...so making BFFs in the check out lane isn't really on my to-do list. I was totally kicking myself for not opting to use the self check out lane.



::smile::



Besides. There's the Trevor factor. If our contact remains in the 10 minutes or less visual observation only zone...the less likely questions are asked. Or curious body language read. Real or imagined. Because visually we look perfectly normal. All of us. Now that the curls are camouflaging the scars. The outside ones anyway. It's weird to me that the scar running across his skull was more obvious than the clusters of seizures he used to have while we were in the market. Oh...and when I say questions asked...I really mean questions asked of him. Questions like...








Hi little guy...what's your name?



or



How old are you?



or



Move your hand, buddy, don't wanna hurt you.





His hand is probably reaching for something breakable to throw. Because Cause & Effect is all the rage with the (seizure) kids these days.



Questions WAY over his head. Better luck if you'd ask him where his nose is. Chances are he's already picking a winner!





It's not the questions that bug me really. They're innocent enough. It's just that my adorable middle child is perpetually seeking attention. And has therefore been saving up all her blabber for this precise moment of opportunity. Which is why she'll spurt the following like a wound up jack-in-the-box...


He's three but he doesn't talk yet well sometimes he says mama but most of the time we don't understand him because he had seizures and the doctors and to cut out half his brain...



All without taking a breath. Beware if she stops for air. It means she's getting set for her second round of pent-up-middle-child thoughts that she's just dying to share with you!



I was involuntarily cringing when the Check Out (old hag) Gal started with the questions. The dreaded questions. If I'd had more energy I would have shushing Miss. Midster. But I was zonked. I may have managed a grunt (or was it a groan?) and a smile. Bristel's cheeks were puffed and ready for release...



My baby brother's in school with the big kids and he takes a bus a great big yellow bus with the big kids to the school where he goes cause he's three, you know



Check Out Gal smiled and responded...



Oh no, Dear, he's too young for school. He doesn't go to school.



Bristel does not like to be corrected. Especially when she's right.



YES HE DOES! The great big school with the big kids on the big bus!



COG ever so slightly rolled her haggy eyes and proceeded to say something like...



You mean daycare. I'm sure his daycare is nice, honey.



I was standing there by the sheer strength of my will power. Because I'm tired, ya'll. And all I wanted to do was sit! Lay down in the middle of the road like Trevy...and Sophie...and all the other little Trevy-ish kids! Oh...I know I probably could have set that old COG straight. Taken up Bristel's cause. Parted Trevy's curls and shoved her nose in his scar. And felt the satisfaction that came from watching her face blanch as she realized that he was indeed in school. And why.



But I didn't. It wasn't her business. And besides it's kinda a privilege to know. That you're witnessing a living breathing miracle. She didn't deserve to know how special he is. How special all my kids are for that matter. That Bristel loves her baby brother so much that she saves up all her words and uses her moment to speak...about him. Nope. She didn't deserve to know.



So I silently swiped my card and left.



But it was bugging me all night. I'm easy to irk like that. And I've been in a mully mood anyway.



Alas...my life is full. And Benadryl works sleepy wonders quickly. Before I knew it it was morning. Again. And we were rushing around to get Trevy dressed for his day. At school. Not to be confused with daycare.



::smile::



You know...



It's amazing how quickly 3 hours can fly by. Seriously amazing!



It was like one minute I was smoochy whooching him (against his sensory will) goodbye...the next we were piling in the car to pick him up. Where he would get smooched again!



As I was standing in the little glass vestibule waiting for a glimpse of the mini-school kids to come tumbling around the corner...the COG's words swirled through my mind. Uninvited.



I'm sure his daycare is nice...



He's too young for school...



And my heart was sad. In that moment. That my baby can't have a normal childhood of easy peasy play and learning. That his days need to be filled with forced and purposeful teaching. Gobs of repetition. And slow progress. And while I was mulling myself into a melancholy they came into view.



And oh how flippin' cute they are!



That line of three year olds. Backpacks like turtle shells hanging off their backs. Holding Hands. Grinning at each other. Tripping. And stopping. And touching. And pulling. Cute as can be.





And then he noticed...



Me. Waiting on the other side of the glass.



And he came running and pounded on the see-through door. Squishing his face and nose right into it. Beaming from ear to ear. And licking a big circle in the pane.



All the other waiting care givers ooooooh and ahhhhh and chuckled. And my heart got all sappy. My smile just as goofy as his...



When he started saying "mama...mama" and sharing his opinion about our squeezes and smooches being delayed by that silly old glass door! He's not a fan of the waiting.



Miss. CNA opened the glass partition and he came barreling over for hugs. It's so cute the way he runs for a squeeze. He doesn't put his arms out like a typical hug. He just races up arms held tight to his sides ready to be squeezed to pieces. Which is exactly what I did!



And my heart wasn't sad any more.



Because who cares if the Check Out Gal ever gets set straight.



I'm the lucky one. I'm squeezing a Mini Miracle to pieces! Every day!



And she doesn't get to know.





Maybe someday I'll share with the parents that were laughing with me in the vestibule. But that's another post altogether...

11 comments:

joanne foltz said...

It is amazing how Bristel and Trevor are so close in size in these pictures! I cannot wait to get in on the hugs and kisses from the kids! Miss you all. Bibi

baby trevor's mommy said...

Trevy and Bri are close in size! She's always putting on his clothes in fact! I think it makes her feel like maybe she's the baby? :)

I hope you can stay with us for awhile! The kids need their Bibi time...

...danielle

ShannonDBR said...

I love this post.

Blessings,
Shannon

KC's Mama said...

Oh, how I wish I could take a page out of your book and just be quiet. But instead I made some shirts : ) One of them on the front says

Epilepsy 0

Autism 0

Me 2

On the back it says, I'm not naughty, I have epilespy and autism.

The other one, which has yet to be delivered yet, says I have autism, what's your problem? lol!

MJStump said...

i like how you say "she didn't deserve to know how special he is." its really true. i mean, our kids are miracle babies and we should share their stories with people that are special to them and us. not usually worth telling a stranger that doesn't get it, can't get it, and doesn't care enough.

maybe that's selfish. i dunno...i'm not really good at sharing my princess :)

it is hard seeing and knowing how our little ones can't just be kids, but they have their therapies and restrictions and a lot of work to do for being so little. realizing that has helped me loosen up a bit more and just have fun and let go of some things...i need and want her to have fun and just be a kid.

always love your posts. usually right on with what i think and feel.

sending hugs :)
jody

Sophie's Story by Elaine said...

"Old Hag"...such a nice way of putting it ;)

I hate the evil stares and snide comments as if I am a horrible mother. Especially when we go out to eat and other moms (with their perfectly behaved toddler sitting in a highchair) look at us with our out of control kids and our 4 1/2 year old still sitting in a high chair throwing a tantrum.

And nothing is better than the big squeezes you get when picking up your child from school. It makes everything else melt away. If only for a moment.

Sinead said...

You made me cry again. I'm glad you didn't tell COG. Not just because it is none of her business but also because if Trevy's receptive language is as good as Emma's then he does not need to hear people talking about what he cannot do. I keep my answers to "she's three" When they ask her questions, I smile and let them give up and label her shy. I say "oh no, she's not shy at all - she just doesn't want to talk to you today. Maybe next time" All with a big smile. I'm glad he is enjoying pick up as much as you are.

Adesta said...

My Haylee is exactly like Bristel. She just waits for someone to ask something about Kym and off she goes so I know your aversion to stranger questions!

But, you are definitely a better woman than I D, cuz honestly, I would have bugged on the COG!

Colby said...

For many years, I wanted Colby to "look" normal as well as be normal...

(Trying to turn lemons into lemonade again!), I have found that any strange babbling or...or whatever....that comes from Colby... seems to be accepted a bit better (I THINK) because he is in a wheelchair, etc....It's a visual explanation to everyone...

You guys whose kids "look normal"? It's a blessing and a curse at the same time....I don't have to explain my child...Y'all do....I'm so sorry for that.....

Cyndi

Mrs. M said...

I love this story. Love that you kept your miracle to yourself and let that COG hag live in her small world.
I laugh about Bristel...that child is all life...and hilarity...and love...
I love the window kisses, puppy style, the happy face, the mama....
It's all wonderful...you and your little family.

Laura said...

Hi, I found youe blog via Ain't No RollerCoaster. I love it!
Anyway, I feel the same way when I take my son out sometimes. He's big for his age and is just now really beginning to speak and engage with people. He has a medical ID bracelt and sometimes people ask what is wrong with him. Sometimes I explain but most often, I don't. You are right- they don't GET to know!