Six stories from the week Elliot turns SIX

Just last night, I was holding Elliot in Ms. Georgia's pool, and noticed I had cupped both my hands underneath his head, and was holding him out from my body, just like you'd hold a little baby when you'd want to look deeply into their eyes.  Staring back at me was a little boy, with 20 teeth in a wide, happy smile,  a fresh haircut plastered with pool water, and laughing eyes.  He only let me hold him like that for a brief moment before he said, "Mama.  Let me go.  I want to swim.  Mama, let me go."  I wonder if, all his life, he will be asking me to let him go.

Yesterday, Elliot stood on the deck of the same pool, and put his head down on the side...I thought for a moment he was going to do a dive.  Instead, he let himself roll forward into a tumble.  He had done a tumble set into the pool. Ana shook her head in amazement.  "How did he do that?"

The night before his birthday, we came home from another night of swimming, and passed out in a heap on our bed.  At 2:30 in the morning, Elliot woke up and seemed uncomfortable. After 30 minutes, we discovered that his back and buttocks were covered with hives.  These returned an hour before his birthday dinner the next day.  My mind has been swirling with a sense of impending doom.  I have heard too many stories of late-onset nightmares...You, you party hard, and ask for your presents. 

Elliot returned to the pet store with Kevin to get some other necessities for his birthday turtles, whom he's named Ang and Kitara. He reaches into a pond, pulls out a large turtle who bites him on the chest. He's afraid and hurt. He returns home and gets cleaned up. 10 minutes later, he's asking to hold his turtles.


On Sunday, we are going on a bike ride.  You seems tired and sluggish, and can't get too far.  Ana has zipped forward, and is looking for locusts in Ms. Nancy's crepe mrytle.  We get stuck several houses down.  The neighbors come out with their dog, and the owner proceeds to play fetch with a soppy ball.  Within minutes, you are in charge, whipping the ball out, laughing gleefully as it's returned to you.  Oliver gets off my bike, wanting a slice of the action.  You engage the neighbor, and then her husband, and then their friend in several conversations.  Mr. Kyle drives past and you begin asking him about his new car.  A few minutes later, the neighbors ask if we'd like a big bag of shrimp.  That a friend gave them 60 pounds.  I motion Ana to come back to us, and we begin the trek home with our bag of enormous, dripping shrimp.  We only make it about two houses.  You are really struggling on your bike.  A second later, the neighbor comes by in her fancy dog grooming van,  and asks if she can give your bike a lift home.  You cry as she puts  it in the the van,  and she offers you a lift too.  You climb into the passenger seat, grinning from ear-to-ear, and begin your 20 questions about her amazing ride.

Last night, as you went to sleep next to me, you gently played with my earring.  Your body seemed long, as you stretched out in the bed, your lids kissing your sweet cheek.  Where has the time gone, my love?

Please note the date: April 19, 2010

On this day, I was actually able to SIT in the FRONT yard for a period of 20 minutes. 

I believe it has been 3 years (THREE YEARS) since I've sat in the front yard, with children, without being hot on their heels. 

More specifically, being hot on Elliot's heels, as he tears up the sidewalk, going exactly where we tell him not to go, or running toward the street, or our neighbor's front porch.  It's a long road, but some things get easier (as others' get harder?).  I'm relieved.  And looking forward to fewer limitations to the places we'll go.

Now granted, since then, we've seen many more moments of the same flight risk behavior, too many times.  But I see the silver lining and it's liberating. 

Which is more beautiful?

Watching Elliot do his next amazing thing?
Or listening to his sister, Ana, gush with pride over him?

To the Third Graders at St. Peter's

Elliot is now 4 years old! He is doing amazingly, no doubt because of all the love and prayers said on his behalf.

He's riding a bicycle now, and that is a big deal. For 1.5 years, his been working with a therapist to gain the strength and balance to pedal. They started on a big wheel, and she'd sit on a wheeled stool facing Elliot with her hands on his feet. And in this way she would pedal his feet as he pushed her stool around the halls of Children's Hospital. Then, they moved on to velcro straps around his feet. Finally, one day Elliot grabbed a big wheel at home and said, "DOn't push me. I want to do it myself." And in few slow painful pedals, he'd moved! We couldn't believe it!

It's funny how blessings come. When Elliot started at a new school this fall, I was disappointed because they had a huge yard with no playground equipment. I tried to get together with the school leadership to apply for money for this. They seemed discouraged by the hard work required (they should take a page from Elliot's book!), and so it didn't happen. In their yard, all that's available are tons of trikes and a couple of swings. But guess what: I'm sure the extra daily practice with these bikes made all the difference with Elliot. And he might not have made these moves with the play equipment I thought so necessary.

Moving onto the taller bike was scary for El. It's a longer way to fall, and that's scary for a child with balance issues! But here he is on his Thomas bike, and let me tell you: If you're on the sidewalk when he's ridin, better get out the way. The boy is now quite fast. And is he proud! He smiles the whole way, laughs when the wind is in his hair...He stops when their is a crack in the sidewalk that he knows will knock him down. Stops at the street intersections...

The bike is great for him. Not only does he develop strength and balance, he has to use his eyes to coordinate his movements. Elliot's eyes have been trouble for some time. They cross when he tries to lock them in front of him, and they also wander up and down. All of this can confuse the brain, and so, over time, it will learn to ignore what one of the eyes is seeing, resulting in partial blindness. Next week, we will have Elliot's second surgery on these tiny eye muscles to help them work more accurately. Like always, we are hopeful that this small step could mean big growth for this amazing champion of a boy.

We have never forgotten you, and are happy you haven't forgotten us. Before you become 4th graders, we promise to make a visit.

I hope your year is going well for you.

With love,

Emmy (on Elliot's behalf)

First Steps

Late August is a time for first steps for our kids...all big steps, all towards greater independence.

Today, Oliver, my 11 month-old hubba bubba, took 2 steps, then three in short succession. Ana, Elliot and I were all there to cheer him on, and he gave his trademark big-mouthed grin, with nose crinkle and eye twinkle. I know that by the end of this week, he'll be walking wherever he wants to. Including up the ramp to Abeona House, where he started this past week. He's adjusting there quite well, but some days are harder than others. And with such a generally cheerful guy, I find myself burying my head to hide the sounds of him crying. When I talk about how difficult it is with him in particular, with his temperament, Gwen shakes her head and laughs, "You were the same with Elliot. In fact, you were worse."

Which brings me to my big 4 year-old boy. This week, Elliot starts a 4 year-old program at Hazel Pa4k. It's a public school that seems to have it's act together. In my search for schools, I was amazed at what people pay for in parochial and private schools: worksheets, teacher-led learning...Jefferson parish schools had some of the very few constructivist, hands-on approaches to learning. With a good mix of teacher-led experiences in a typical classroom, with therapies on-site (that *still* subscribe to the pull-out special ed model that I hate), I know Elliot will get everything he needs. But oh, the trust of that, with my sweet boy. My sweet boy who 3.5 years ago was the reason I took my current job--I just had to be there, close to him, making sure he was getting what he needed...and he got so much more than I ever could have imagined. I can only hope that the loving teachers I met will fall under his spell--he's pretty irresistable. But as he leaves Abeona, he's also leaving his Friends. And Friend is a word that's being used around there quite a bit, as the boys move towards FOUR, they are declaring their unwavering loyalties, threatening each other with the withholding of affections, and squeezing each other with unspeakable intensity of emotion. He will be missed. And he will miss. And I will miss.

And my Ana dear, took a big step into big school--and man, is it BIG--it's a CAMPUS, populated by children as young as 2 and as old as 17. But I am ever-validated in my choice of this program for Ana...coming into her classroom, we were warned by the teacher, "Mind there's a bunny hopping around. Don't let him out!" Are you kidding me? As we entered, I saw the other animals near the windows that led to outside: guinea pig, cockateil cage, fish...as the teacher gave us the brief tour, she lifted the paper that hid the beehive, where bees were harvesting honey--from the side, I could see the acrylic tube that led to the butterfly garden...oh, my naturalist, you are home! Montessori activities were scattered here and there, intriguing any child who walked by...2 chess tables set up...the math center displayed the gears of a beautiful old music box, an old brass kaliedoscope, hour glasses of different lengths/times, colorful liquid elements floating at different temps on a suspended numberline...This made the traditional palatable--the calendar math, the desks for the 1st and 2nd graders who are in the mixed age room that face the board...a perfect blend of approaches--the labor of love of this amazing teacher who obviously has read and applied best practices over many many years...I'm excited about another place, another step where the focus is LOVE of Learning! No grades, good relationships...I just believe in this stuff...Since that bunny twitched his nose our way 5 days ago, you've shared nothing but excitement and intrigue over your new big school...and the more folks I meet, the more I realize that I'm going to be as awkward as I allow myself to be...people are people.

We're all growing up. I'm making friends as are you...you just seem better at it than I am, Ana...maybe a tire swing would help the grown-ups?

My sweet children. Watching you grow is equal parts delight and dread. You are so beautifully perfect in your ways of seeing the world...I hope the world will return the favor.

Elliot is FOUR

It's hard to believe. Elliot, you continue to amaze us each day...with your sweet spirit, your big heart, and your perserverence.

Right now, you're talking up a storm, and putting together complex ideas...asking why, and explaining things with because. You begin most explanations with "actually"--you say it so fast it sounds like "ashley." And, of course, we stop everything to hear what you have to say.

You're a pinball, bouncing from thing to thing, but we're (finally?) giving you some tools to get it all out--you love your birthday nerf swords, and are slashing us left and right (we have swords too!)...new musical instruments, and setting your room up like a music studio are great channels for that energy...you especially love your new piano from your Tia Ella.

You are a great big brother to Oliver, and love playing with him. Whenever you talk to him, you slip into "motherease" and are so sweet and tender and your voice gets so high...Ollie's eyes are so full of love for you. You like sharing with him, which we need to watch closely...the baby can't have some of your sprite or french fry just yet, big guy.

You got a new bike and are *this close* to being able to pedal. If we could just get you to look up while you ride!!! We might need to get insurance on your new Thomas bike, cause I see some minor disasters a-coming.

I've loaned you to dad for the last 4 years, but it looks like you're mine again. I'm happy you seek me out more, and want to snuggle, and come to me for a hug when you're hurt. You're the best snuggler, and I feel so warm and happy when you hold me.

Finley said you were his best friend the other day, and that was the best news ever.

Every park is "your Hazel Pa4K"--where you'll attend school in a few weeks...

You're jumping off of everything, including the JCC dive board...backwards I might add.

There are so many things going on with you--it's hard to keep up...But watching you grow is the best gift...and there are so many people (more than we realize, I'm sure) who love you too.

Happy Birthday, sweet guy. I love you--the whole world.

Moving on

Ana's last day at Abeona was Friday.

*sigh*

Elliot's last day will come at the end of July.

We had a ceremony where kids asked that we not take their sunshine away.

*lump in throat*

That night, we went for sushi, and Elliot discovered Shrimp Tempura, Oliver enjoyed his muse of noodles, and Ana relished her California Rolls. And Kevin and I held hands over hot tea, and came home trying to catch frogs under the crescent moon, and wondered at how quickly our little ones have grown.

Again and again, how many times will we have this feeling? This sad longing at these moments passing by?

X marks the spot.

Why does pacifist me LOVE love LOVE that my son is:

• pretending everything is a sword


• jutting these imaginary swords forward and growling, as fiercely as he can, "MY SWORD!"


• Argh-ing constantly


• Growling


• More arghing.

I absolutely love it. You, son, are my buried treasure.

CHange of mind

Elliot just said of his decision of a green popsicle:

Actually, I think I want yellow.

REALLY. (-;

Of cementing teeth

I find myself struggling with one of my fundamental parenting beliefs coming to light. I've often said, maybe too casually, that "parenting is the process of letting go of your children over time."

Easy to say when two of my young children are essentially under my direct supervision every day, as charges in the childcare center I direct. They've been right there, with me, the Fly on the Wall, who'd buzz loudly when things could be better or different.

But things are definitely changing from within, and from without. I'm gonna need someone to hold my hand.

In this, the year that I turn 35,
-My oldest daughter will go to kindergarten. There was a dawning of her growth into another phase of her childhood around her 5th birthday last December. Despite the elongating of her features, and changing of her body, it was the cake with the bold number FIVE on it that screamed to me, "She's growing up, dummy!" Every day, just growing up. Around this whole period, I've learned so much about her...looking at SO many kindergartens that just wouldn't fit. I could feel their academic preparedness squeezing the creativity, and imagination, and Ana-ness out of her. Beyond the fear of not making the right choice for my little one, there is the fear of the move into big school itself. The move away from me, my eyes, my influence. Into a space that's all about her.

-This daughter of mine has lost a tooth. And the one next to it is wiggling. This was the tooth we watched grow a millimeter at a time. The one we celebrated, photographed, showed off, and brushed...the lone inhabitant of her gummy baby grin. I would rather her have cavities, I think, than proudly display the whole in her smile where her "baby tooth" used to be.

-My youngest boy, our wonderful surprise, has a tooth coming up in the same spot where Ana's jus fell out. And the tooth next to it is crowning. This is the tooth that we are watching grow, one millimeter at a time. The one we will celebrate, and photograph, show off and brush...the lone inhabitant of his gummy baby grin. *Sigh* Do you see where this is all leading?

-And my son Elliot, our lover and our fighter, will likely go to a program for 4 year-olds. He will be placed with typical 4 year old children in a school with a special needs preschool, in case he struggles too much. His teachers will have his IEP, and I'm to trust that it will be implemented. I will put him in the car, and I will bring him to his classroom, and I will leave him there for the day. Hopefully, someone will tell me what kind of day he had, what he learned, what therapies were implemented, if he made a friend. And I'm to trust that he is treated with compassion, that he will not be teased or harmed, that when he's stuck, someone will help him. When he can't hear, someone will notice. When he is sad, someone will care. The drive away from this place? I don't think I can make. I think I will be in the bushes, or apply to be the cafeteria lady. Almost everything I've done since Elliot has been about Elliot. And now, there he goes. And please don't tell me he'll be fine. And please don't tell me "parenting is slowly letting go of your children," because I won't be able to control my tongue. I don't know if I can let that baby go. I really really don't.

So what do I do, when cementing their teeth won't change this: they are growing, and moving slowly away from me. There is a hole in my smile.

4 headlines, 2 stories

Headlines:

• Ana's lost a tooth where Ollie is growing a new one. She's really growing a tad too fast for me these days.
• We're pulling together plans for summer camp for Ana.
• I successfully took the three kids out to eat. By myself. And had a nice time.
• Our plans for Honduras are almost finalized!

Stories:

-Elliot is pre-registered for a typical 4 year old class at Haze1 Park Elementary in River Ridge.

-I have no plan C for my daughter's kindergarten if plan B falls through. Feeling less on top of it than I was in early January.

To Elliot, My Son, Who is Three

Dear Elliot,

It's hard to believe that you're turning three at 8:15 tomorrow morning. It seems like just yesterday, you were being put into my arms as I wailed, "Where's my baby? Give me my baby!" And just like that, it seems like you're not a baby anymore.

These days, you're into Superman and Spiderman and Monsters. When we open the door sometimes, you say, "Big Bad Wolf." Trucks and Thomas pique your interest, but in homage to your sister, when you can pick a color, you choose Pink.

You're a fish in the water...fearless completely. It scares us to death, how you put your head under, mouth open, and come up laughing, smiling, and demanding "Again!" You have a ridiculous full-body Sponge Bob floaty-suit (bright yellow to attract maximum attention) because you refuse all our attempts to help you. "Myself," you say, as we try to hold you in the water. Yes, my boy, you can do so much yourself. Thank you for reminding us.

You are such a social butterfly! You love seeing your family...every morning you do your role call, and greet us with a hug, and demands to "nuggle." As I watch you through the day, you pull people to you, teachers, friends, sometimes strangers. I honestly believe that you see God in people, recognize the best in them, and love them for it. You have a real gift there. It defines you when I think of who you are as a person.

You are equal parts tornado and sponge these days, whipping through the house, bouncing pinball-like from one chaotic creation to the other. You laugh at our discipline, and go "boneless" when we try to move you from your latest disaster. Everything is interesting to you. For about 15 seconds. Then you're on to the next bit. Mama is trying to keep up, but I'm getting bigger and more tired. Is this just a phase? Maybe between the cake and ice cream tomorrow, you can let me know.

You're talking up a storm:

I want more baleada please.

Tito is in Honduras.

I want to sit next to Ana.

I'm going to sleep in Mama's bed.

And now everything is "mine." My daddy, my tita, my bear, my turn.

But we mostly love the sweet inflections you use when calling our names, or saying "Darlin,'" Mama's term for you and Ana. You always couple this with some eyelash fluttering, or moving your chin to your chest. It couldn't be sweeter or more endearing, the way you add the extra sugar. You're full of hugs, and kisses ("with noise," we request); it's rare that you tell us, "no," when it comes to lovin' but we understand.

You love your sister so, and follow her around like a little duck. That is, when you're not completely destroying whatever she's working on, or doing exactly what she's telling you not to do. She's having to adjust to the fact that you're not a baby, too. You're doing a great job of asserting yourself.

Favorite moments in everyday life:

• nightly tickles
• helping take out the trash
• any baking that involves the use of the big red and chrome mixer
• flushing the toilet
• reading
• playing your red accordian
• opening the oven (and stepping on the door, if we're not careful
• climbing the inside of the fridge!
• washing the dishes
• opening the car door. Esp. if we're crossing a long bridge. with no where to stop.

And boy, do you laugh! You love a good giggle, and often laugh just because you see others laughing. What joy you bring! Life is never dull with you around, Elliot. You keep us smiling, and running. I'm so grateful that I get to watch you grow each step of the way. I love you, Elliot. Happy Birthday!

Monkey Brain

If my friend describes Monkey Brain as having chatter streaming nonstop like ticker tape through one's mind, I have to wonder what to term my addled emotional state these days.

This week is tricky for me.

• Each morning, I start by reading the Times Picayune 8 part series on the murder of my former student, Lance Zarders. Details of his death, his parents' pain, and bits about his life and dreams mean soggy cereal. I'm still quite angry, but mostly just very very sad. Lance had so much to offer. How do his parents cope?
• Elliot turns three on Saturday. I'm terrible at my kids' birthdays. Each passing year makes me long to turn back the clock, and do it all again. But even harder this year, even more difficult with this birthday, is the fact that Elliot will age out of Early Steps...the program that has his therapists and support team in his school, or at home, and in constant dialogue about what he's doing, how he's growing, what he needs to continue. I have been dreading the day El would age out since we first began his therapies at age 6 months. Now, not only are the training wheels off for us, as parents, but what do we do now? How do we meet his needs and find program(s) that meet his needs, and ensure that what he's been doing is meeting his needs, and still give him a childhood that's not defined by a series of weekly appointments? The anxiety of What Now? had me crying in the arms of his preschool teachers today, as I wondered aloud what the best choice might be, if we could be the best choice. They couldn't have handled it any better: Just tell us what he needs, tell us what to do. We can do it. We want to do it. We love Elliot. Now how do I say goodbye to his therapists, who are honestly like angels to us, who have shaped our parenting, our dreams for our child, our belief in his potential, our hope... I don't know. I've needed them as much as he has.
• This week has begun my work to prepare my little school for life without me as I go have this baby, and spend his first months at home. This week, before Professional Development Week, I'm in hyper-OCD mode. Well, my work-related fears seem silly after all my Elliot fears, but the truth is I'm trying to address every possible scenario that I need to anticipate someone else handling. Yes, I have another 6 weeks. That's both comforting and scary. My work is like my third (soon fourth) child. A child I want to be sure thrives and grows in the next year.
• Stressed-out, physically weary, emotional mom + one sweet girl, anxious herself because of mom's changes, and upcoming baby + one defiant boy, whose (ploys for attention with new baby?) newest tricks all include doing the exact opposite of what stressed out mom says + doting husband whose always working when I'm not = short fuse.
• A back that goes out, a hip that's sometimes numb, a GI system that's frequently emitting acid into my mouth, a belly that keeps moving most of the day, and feet that are (egad!) beginning to swell like rosy mangoes...

Bright spot today: getting a hair cut (complete with the temple and head massage) that always makes me feel good. I definitely need to carve in ME time over the next weeks. I'm afraid of who I'll be if I don't.

Lefty has come to the party!

It's been a family affair, for the last two years. Getting Elliot to incorporate the use of his left hand, often fisted and rigid, into fine and gross motor skills.

We've had a cast made for the right hand, to use in small spurts. Forced use of the left hand.

When he's had something in the right, we've put something in the left (equal input).

Ana has become his big teacher, although she often confuses the Right and Left hand, which can be quite humorous, as in, "Look, Mommy, Elliot turned on the water with LEFTY!" causing a stampede to the bathroom, only to reveal the right hand grasping the spigot.

I'm happy to report that, now, fairly consistently, Elliot uses his hand to attempt to uncap markers, to help him explore new objects, to open and close things...he's frequently sucking on it, fully aware that it's there. And most of the time, when he uses that hand, he looks around, knowing that the praise is coming.

Watching him grasp something tiny (or try to grasp and release over and over) usually makes us misty, and Ana squeezes him in intense excitement. He will watch his hand, like it is coming from outside himself. It all happens as in slow motion; everyone who's worked on this resists the urge to offer any comment or assistance. But we're held captive.

Because intense work with his right hand usually makes him tense on the left side, when he wants to do something bimanually, Elliot will slightly open his right hand (which relaxes his left). His OT has seen older children with hemiparesis do this; she wasn't aware they did this so young (gold stars on the chart for you, my prodigy!).

Pictures to come soon. Right now, I'm just enjoying watching my son's hard work bear fruit. 2 short weeks before he ages out of Early Intervention and turns 3. What surprises lie ahead on this journey! I'm so grateful to have Elliot to guide us, and love us.

Handsome

Elliot now winks, blinks, and hams it up when someone mentions the word, "Handsome."

Do we need to work on being humble, little guy? Maybe, but we can't help it. You're quite the charmer.

Yesterday, Kevin took Elliot to Hangar in Children's Hospital to be fitted for orthotic leg braces. They will likely be high, and conspicuous, and help anchor his left foot, which he keeps flexed, and keep his right foot from collapsing inward as it does.

My son will have many accessories, by then--
The glasses that need to be brought back to the optometrist every other week to be reformed because he chews on them;

The arm cast for his right arm as we work on the forced use of his left hand, applied in little bits (20 minutes at the most, at home or in therapy);

Coming soon: Scapula tape to anchor his scapula and keep it from popping out from under use and poor muscle tone; an E-stem machine to hook up to at night, zapping your weak muscles with electrical stimuli, reminding you that they are there.

I'm struggling a little bit with the feeling that you will be the Bionic Boy, and wonder if you might want to be in your own skin once we subject each of your parts to some kind of Adaptive Technology. I hope this stuff will help.

No matter what, though, you'll still be our Handsome Guy.

slight of hand

Tonight, Elliot enjoyed his "Fuzzy, fuzzy, fuzzy" book (textures) with his left hand!

Without prompting!

Ana felt a little jealous of the attention and teary eyes. Once I reminded her that things that come easy for us, Elliot works hard to do. That each of us is a part of that because we work with Elliot, and we love him. Then she was all snuggles, and smiles.

I'm so proud of Elliot. He does work incredibly hard, and with the best disposition always.

And I'm so proud of Ana. I know being his sibling comes with its challenges, but she has so much love. So much love.

Elliot at TWO!

What a dynamo! Elliot at two is barrels of fun in a charming, chatty, daredevil of a package.

His Loves:

• Big Sister Ana
• Going outside (which he demands several times a day by turning the doorknob and repeating, "Outside!"
• Drums, guitars, maracas, and dancing in a wide circle
• Water (in pools, puddles, the tub, and yes...the toilet)
• Cows and Dogs
• Tita!
• The anticipation of being tickled, or found when hiding (instant belly laughs every time)
• Ms. Gwen
• Apple Juice
• Counting to 8 (it's fun to see!)
• ELMO
• Books!
• Rocking on horses, seesaws, you name it
• Driving plastic cars (steering wheels, really)
• being patted on the back (he'll pat you back)
• smelling flowers
• finding bugs
• sliding with his sister Ana

He Detests

• Doors being closed to his intended destination
• saying Goodbye to Dada in the morning
• Ana crying (he cries too)
• when it's time to rest

My big boy, I can't believe you're TWO years old. Your loving spirit draws so many people and blessings your way, and your happiness brightens our world. Happy Birthday, Elliot! We love you-

Daddy, Mama, and Ana

Best Kiss Ever

They say your first kiss is the best kiss. I won't go into the details of that slobbery ordeal at age 12, but it couldn't have been as good as the kisses I'm getting these days.

Mr. El is now puckering up! That lower lip that he sometimes lets hang open is now showing up for a full-on SMOOCH with sound effects! Now, I loved getting my open-mouthed numbers, where he would put my nose or cheek in his mouth, but these smaks are so good.

I think his new sippy cup (with creds to his speech therapist) is what's making a difference. The NUBY Sports Sipper with a straw top (instead of the hard plastic square mouthpieces) forces him to suck...

Elliot's also talking a blue streak about any and everything, sleeping through the night (for the first time!), and back to his pre-op walking pace.

But the best news, by far, is los besitos.

Elliot's First Day at Brigh1 School

Today was El's first day at Brigh1. We left the house earlier than usual, and somewhat more stressed...did we have everything he would need? Would we be there on time? Anxiety about how he might respond.....

Like always, my fears were unfounded. He gravitated immediately to the large store of toys, and the rocking horse, which I knew he'd love when we toured.

I asked so many questions, and knew immediately, "Yes, I am that Pain-in-the-Ass parent. Nice to meet you. I will always be this way. Get used to it."

There were 4 other children with a wide-range of issues: two with cochlear implants (available only for children with bilateral deafness), one with CP, like El and a hearing aide, and another child who seemed hard of hearing. 5 kids. 5 teachers (among them two 8th grade boys getting service hours. Really cool BIG BOYS for El to admire). LOTS of attention.

In the first 10 minutes there, I learned the signs for boat, plane, train, car, and bus, as Elliot attended to a puzzle on transportation with a teacher. With each completed piece, the teacher would prompt him to sign "more." Since he did this so readily (Yes, with both hands), she would prompt him to sign "please" as well, letting me know that when he knows one sign, push him to do two.

We left after I was satisfied that he would be loved, stimulated, safe...and he let us go. My tears came as we closed the door. I've never really left Elliot. He's always been just down the hall from me. I took the job at Abeona House because I needed to work, and needed to be in tune with his therapies. Soon after I learned that there were so many other players with something to give to our Elliot. This first day was another example of that.

When we came back, he was happy, and didn't want to leave. We sat and played a game of audiotory bingo, and played some instruments. It was a real adjustment getting used to how LOUD the music was played.

I enjoyed spending time with Elliot's new friends. Each of them different, with their own challenges. Each of them beautiful, and loved, and happy to be in a space where they are learning at their own pace with others who understand. What blessings we have in our life, always seeing the adage of "it takes a village to raise a child" at work, and slowly letting our son go, into the world.

One giant step for El-kind

My son walks.

He is now a walker.

He now walks more than crawls.

He walks with a sippy cup in his hands.

He walks to look around the house.

He will be two in two months. I honestly think he'll be running by then.

Elliot, you are my hero. How many moms get to say that about their toddlers? I'm sure not many wish it, but they don't understand. The gift of watching you grow beyond expectation reminds me of the power of faith, determination, and love. I'm so proud to be your mom, my walking guy. You're a superstar.