A New Corner

Robin Apraxia, Grace, Growth, Homeschool, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized September 12, 2016

There has been wailing and gnashing of teeth here on Park Hill Road.

Mostly from me.

It was slowly becoming more and more apparent that I should homeschool my precious little peanut full time this year. A thousand little pieces of information added up to a clear picture: In order to make progress we’d have to make a change.

Homeschooling is time consuming and patience strengthening, but that is not where the wailing and gnashing originated.

I am just so sad that I am the best option for my daughter.

This is not some whoah is me, the sacrifices I must make thing. It is truth.

Last summer my little person and I hopped on a plane and flew to Connecticut to meet with a speech therapist and an aqua therapist. They worked with her and taught me and she bloomed.

When I pulled out of the parking space on the last day, I was a mess. In that school lot, the smell of chlorine thick in the rental car, a new realization was forged in my heart: We only grieve things we are grateful for.

I was so, so grateful for the time we had been given. And I was so, so heartbroken that we had to fly to other side of the country and leave them behind.

People who are excellent at what they do are unique. To see people who are gifted at helping my daughter was vulnerably beautiful. To come home where I have been unable to such find help was hard. And sad.

I had to grieve the loss.

I would MUCH rather have gifted, great therapists to work with my daughter than have to do it all myself as an amateur.

But we have rounded another corner and here we are: A homeschooling family.

I have it all thought out:

I have prayed and researched and I believe God has guided me to the right focus and approaches for Ryan…If I do all I have set out to she will thrive.

If I do all I set out to do, our family will thrive.

My goals for the first trimester are fairly simple:

For my Precious Little Peanut, that means stronger jaw, tongue and lips for speech; and core and hands for writing. For the rest of the family, it would just be good.

Here we are prayerfully, humbly on a new adventure; hauntingly optimistic that we will make progress. This I know: The biggest weak spot is me.

I am flakey.

I can be lazy.

I naturally gravitate toward chaos which means I have to fight me very nature in order to succeed at this.

But God.

I believe HE is for me. I have prayed through my natural laziness and made great strides. I have people praying for my character, so that I may be the educator my daughter needs.

So here and now, for this season, I am coming out of my corner swinging.

The Finish Line

Robin Grace, Growth, Homeschool, Uncategorized June 20, 2016finish line, summer

If the 2015/2016 school year was a marathon, I walked–or limped–the second 13 mile stretch.

I tried to keep on the road, but had very little hope of victory.

Then, out of nowhere, I found the will/energy/ability to sprint that last two tenths of a mile of the race. Who knew I had it in me? I never would have guessed that in the 26.2 miles of the journey, I would shine in the last .2?

I am honest about my struggles, but sometimes I do get things right!

It began with Jared’s Prom. A local high school senior, partially paralyzed by a tumor related stroke, was told by his school that he could not attend his senior prom. It was very obvious, very quickly that would not stand. The community came together and Brighten A Corner threw him the prom of a lifetime a few weeks later…

Then my little family put our heads down and started gunning for the end of the school year.

First, there was HISTORY DAY.

We had costumes put together. They were ready the day BEFORE history day. They were cute! The girls studied their characters. Their characters were interesting! Erasmus and Catherine the Great are now people we are quite familiar with! History is such an important part of learning and character development.

I got the end of the year assignments organized. Ryan completed timeline pieces and Shakespeare puppets.

Reagan got A’s on a majority of her finals. Jake was across the country developing his ability to work hard. “Just finished my thirteenth day in a row,” he said. Doing construction. Hard to believe that is the same kid who never got out of bed on time and spent ~~centuries~~ hours and hours playing video games. Hard times sometimes redeem themselves.

We have a tradition of hosting a last day of school swimming party. This year the last day of school for Ryan was on a Thursday. Kids were finished at noon then would come here. We keep this gathering simple. BBQ chicken, watermelon and chips are the menu. Before they come here the kids have an ice cream social at school so we don’t need more sugar…

Two days earlier, on Tuesday night, Reagan came to me asking, “How would you feel about having the graduation party here?”

She knew the answer before she asked. Of course, we’d love to host the party! Thursday night…after the party for the 1st and 2nd graders.

We sailed right through! Carl and I are getting pretty good at this. We had the second party supplies set aside and organized…so we just picked up trash, washed a load of towels, and viola! Graduation…race home to throw bean dip and chicken wings in the oven and a good time was had by all.

We crossed the finish line, victoriously! (And napped at length the next day.)

He gives strength to the weary
    and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
    and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
    will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
    they will run and not grow weary,
    they will walk and not be faint.

ISAIAH 40:29-32

Summer 2016

Robin Grace, Growth, Homeschool, Moments, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized June 13, 2016Summer Manifesto

This is the last week of school.

All the happy sounds and dances I can muster are coming. Last year I finished strong. This year? Not so much. We are limping across the finish line, distracted and unclear about some *^%$&&** stuff.

Last week’s History Day for Ryan.

Last week’s History Day for Reagan

But I have mustered up enough clarity in a number of areas to write the Lee Family Summer 2016 Manifesto. Can you even imagine how EXCITED my hubby is about this? (Insert sarcasm font.) Six pages of how I want our life lived out is apparently far more inspirational and impressive to me than it is to him.

The nerve.

He’ll be happy with the results. I know it.

These are the things that are compelling me:

My middle daughter will be a junior next year. That means our days are NUMBERED with her. Rather than feeling like I am trying to squeeze every last drop of time and memories with her, I want to pour in.

As parents of teenagers, it is incumbent on us to help create the adults we want our kids to become.

I want to invest time and attention to help develop skills and maturity that will make life richer for her in the future.

As I prayed and thought and made lists, it occurred to me that working on life skills for her will help my youngest with special needs also learn life skills. And it will continue to carve away at the sin of laziness that can plague me. (Exhaustion and laziness can be difficult to differentiate sometimes…)

My youngest still has special needs. Did I think somewhere in my little brain that we would outgrow this someday?

Perhaps.

Don’t judge.

I am convinced that much of life is wishful thinking.

I have tried and tried to assemble a team of people to help us help her. But I have failed at that.

So, I am back to the drawing board assessing and making lists and praying that God would transform my character to be that disciplined, scheduled, routined person who will find the way to do all the things I think about doing. Successfully. And make it enjoyable and magical.

While making money somehow.

No problem.

Let me throw in getting in shape and losing weight while I am at it. Then I’ll REALLY have something to talk about.

My son is so far away.

I still hate that.

I miss him.

I want to be creative about ways to connect.

Our life has stress. And it always will. But that does NOT mean that we can’t eliminate or deal with some of the stress that we have. Purposely living my days the way I want them to feel will automatically reduce stress!

I will never have more time in my days. Twenty-four hours will always be my limit.

What I DO with those twenty four hours will make all the difference.

Keeping that in mind, these will be my mental markers for a successful summer:

The number of times my family sits down to a meal together. It won’t be all my cooking. We love the BBQ and plan on having our teenager make one family meal each week. In a perfect world, this will also be evaluated on how many different places we eat. Out by the pool? Let’s do that! On the front porch? I love it. Picnic at the park or beach? Absolutely. The manifesto gives gathering a prime position.
How much time is spent outside together. No vitamin D deficiencies allowed. After church on Sundays is a great time for us to make this happen. For a while we loaded up the bikes and took the trail to the beach where we would get lunch then head back. Carl and the girls on wheels and me on my two feet, we would trek the five miles. Exercise and sunshine and great for physical and family health, I want to make this a reality again this summer.
Consistent chores I encourage my kids to do well. This falls on me. Will I be calm, ordered, and happy as I teach us to organize and clean with excellence? The manifesto lines up specific times to be set aside to approach these skills as a family. Creating a home which is cleaner with less clutter is the BEST thing I can do for my hubby; and helping my kids be more respectful and responsible about living with other humans? That is a MUST.
The number of books read aloud. Audio books are fine. In fact, I am hoping to listen to some as a family while sitting around the table coloring. I am making progress with my precious little peanut’s fine motor skills and this would REALLY help. Also, more and more people are talking about the stress/anxiety reducing benefits of adult coloring which would be fabulous for my hubby AND my teen. We will start on audio with Les Miserables. That is my teen’s reading assignment for the summer, so we can support her by joining the conversation. While she is at camp, I will be reading Harry Potter and the Little House series to Ryan…along with the Illustrated Classics from Barnes & Nobles. They are my current obsession.
Cards and letters put in the mail. I want to encourage my kids to be letter writers. And thank you note senders. Me too. This will make all of our lives better and sow seeds of friendship and love.

There you have it. The five things that will anchor my summer. (5? Perfect. I will link up a bit late to the FANTASTIC Kelly at Mrs. Disciple.) There are goals and plans about Bible verse jars for the dinner table and prayers for a fresh fire on my Scripture study, each of which will be more likely if I make the manifesto a reality.

My Blank Face

Robin Grace, Growth, Homeschool, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized February 19, 2016Change, questions

I am probably fooling myself to think that my face is actually blank. More than likely my expressions are communicating something.

None the less, lately the phrase is swirling through my mind with striking regularity.

It is how I imagine I look when I just DON’T GET a thing. Or am just NOT BUYING a thing, or idea, or–for that matter–a person. That is probably not the most Christian thing I have ever thought…

But, hey, I am a work in progress.

Changes are coming my way. I can feel them blowing in the wind…and the cracks in my denial are getting too obvious for me to ignore any longer. As I have said before, parenting is HARD.

Parenting a child with Special Needs is that times a gazillion.

My daughter’s learning delays are severe.

There. I said it.

It is time to face the fact that we are in a stagnant place of learning…needing some momentum to be built. It is not that there are not pockets of beauty, wonder and progress.

There are.

But if I stop long enough to face things, the results are not adding up fast enough for us to continue on the path we are on.

Again. Something needs to change.

My hubby and I both feel the Special Education System available in the public schools is not the best fit for her. When I have visited the classrooms I leave feeling fatigued…and so does she.

These last few years have been so good, but time marches on faster than our clock can be set for.

And I know the future is calling to be different than the past.

I hate that I don’t yet know what that means. And I hate that I don’t have a billion dollars to hop on planes, or start a school, or pursue the millions of ideas that flow through my brain in the still, small hours of the night.

And so my face goes blank when things that I thought were good progress change.

The gymnastics class I put her in, to make her stronger and help with coordination, updated its format and rather than attracting 4 year old kiddos, it is appealing to two year old kiddos. That changed the dynamic irreparably. (She already looked like Honey, I Blew Up The Baby.)

Back to square one, with the next great thing to try 20 minutes further down the road. (Each way.)

When your child has a chromosomal abnormality no one else has ever had there is no road map. It is hard to find a pattern, because there often is not one. What works for so many others falls radically short for us.

Yet in other areas, she shines.

She behaves incredibly well. She is helpful and sweet. We don’t want to change her we just
want to help her become the very best she can be.

So the research begins again to find the ideas; to seek out the help; to look at things differently. Honest question fold into fears and insecurities. Do I need to make money, so we can invest more in her? How can I work outside the home and educate her well? What about Bible Study and the few things I do to keep sane? What will my life look like with changes? Can I do this?

Next week I head to a conference for speech therapists. I am not a speech therapist. I will sit and listen and learn and although I know I won’t understand everything, I believe I will understand enough to come home with more tools than I have right now. It is hard to be parent, teacher and therapist with limited tools.

Ryan is over it. She needs new ideas to engage her.

And I will begin praying for an Oral Motor Placement Therapist closer than Connecticut. Perhaps those amazing resources I found across the country can be annual pilgrimages, with on going support in state. These are new questions I am asking myself, because I didn’t realize that Ryan wouldn’t love having me do all. the. therapies.

And patching her eye, because one is straying again.

And telling her to make her bed.

And to stop eating peanut butter from the jar.

So the blank look on my face begins to fade…The simple act of writing it out brings new ideas. New hope is arising. God is so good. My eyes can start to look for a new path without my chest feeling strangled.

There is so much hope in the imperfect. I have moments when I struggle to see it…but those moments are never allowed to reign in victory. That is each of our journeys in parenting, isn’t it?

I am more convinced than ever that all kids have special needs; some just have a diagnosis.

Hello, 2016. Nice to Meet You

Robin Grace, Growth, Homeschool, Moments, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized January 2, 20162016, goals, Hello

2015 was not a bad year at all. I was stretched. I had adventures. I am closer to my kids and hubby at the end of it than I was at the beginning.

There were many moments of triumph and many moments of toil. But all in all, I chose to either enjoy or learn from them. Goodbye 2015, it was a pleasure.

And hello 2016, it is nice to meet you.

Again I am connecting with the spectacular Kelly over at Mrs. Disciple for her Friday 5 link up. (Kelly, and the gang of writers I met this summer at Jen Hatmaker’s home, have been a huge blessing to my little world in 2015. The For the Love launch team experience, from beginning to now, has been an enormous gift.)

Five Goals for 2016

I am a huge proponent of acknowledging our priorities. I have said it before and I will say it again, we can only have one number one priority at any given time. It is because of that deeply held belief that I try to prioritize my goals, so they can build on one another…

#1.) Take Control of What My Family and I Eat.

In 2015 I put quite a bit of prayer focus on trying to get rid of my laziness. I asked dear friends to pray for me, that God would mold my character and make me more efficient. I have made much progress, but in 2016 I hope to address another area of struggle.

I am tired all the time.

In that spirit, I have new cookbooks with recipes sticky noted. I have my calendar marked out. This will be a new way of doing things, combining foods in different ways to maximize energy. (And hopefully lose a few pounds while I am at it.)

My hubby and I both feel a bit better with just some minor tweaks. Once I get everything together and plow full steam ahead I am very optimistic our energy levels will see new highs.

#2.) Address and Fix Ryan’s Sleeping Issues.

I was never a co-sleeping advocate. I believe babies in their own beds are a good thing…but then my one day old infant choked on her own mucous and turned blue. At that point we had never heard the term esophageal dysmotility, but suffice it to say she began sleeping right by my side.

For years every time we would talk about moving her to her own room she would get sick. Pneumonia. Epilepsy. Fever of 105.

We gave up, and she spent some or all of each night with us…pulling our hair, thwacking us with flailing arms, and hogging the bed. She would be quite satisfied with Mommy and a cot with one pillow to share.

It’s not very restful.

It needs to stop.

I have a plan in place, and I am hoping that the increased energy from eating well will help us endure the transition. Nearly 11 years of poor sleep has caused sincere fatigue, but I will actually miss her…

Sigh.

#3.) Getting More Organized So We Can Manage an Aggressive Homeschool Agenda

There is no way to fully communicate how organization impacts homeschooling the girls. (Actually, just Ryan. Reagan is completely in charge her home days.) It energizes it, and makes everything feel doable.

We have really high hopes this season. A huge emphasis will be placed on large motor skills, which we will use to help achieve goal #2. Continuing in gymnastics and much time in the pool will be staples. (I plan on making sure she is very, very tired.)

It is working. She can now play with the Wii…an amazing combination of motor planning skills that show tremendous progress.

It is a huge hope to increase the reading we do with her. Audio books will be a component, but I am hoping to help her fall in love with books to a greater level. My older two kids were both avid readers…So much praying and planning will go into this. If we achieve success in goals 1 & 2, they will have an enormously positive impact on goal #3.

#4.) This Year’s Prayers for My Kids

After much prayer and contemplation, I have come to the conclusion that my prayer/encouragement focus for each of my kids is the same this year. I want all three of them to grow in being grateful, responsible and helpful.

So much of our lives is built around our faith. We only listen to Christian music. We go to church and youth group every week. We pray at every meal. I run a ministry. Bible Study is a large part of life. Both of our older kids attended Christian school for several years.

My heart for my kids’ faith is constant, and not a part of seasonal goals.

Although my middle is thriving academically and diligent about church, my husband and I are having regular conversations about the gaps that need filling before she launches off to college. These gaps, as it turns out, will also benefit our grown son who is just starting college on the GI Bill, and our peanut.

#5.) Honoring The Sabbath

Each of the previous 4 goals are actually part of sabbath success. Honoring the sabbath is not about forcing the family to take the day off, it is about being a good enough steward that I believe 6 days is enough, and the 7th day will add His beauty in a new and fresh way.

Last year we spent many Sundays walking and biking after church. We’d have lunch by the beach, and head home. I hope to repeat that and take it to the next level. Healthy premade dinners, family games and reading by the fire would round it out beautifully.

Of course there are other things rumbling around…ministry ideas and writing goals, but these five set the foundation for any other dreams I may have. They excite me about the coming days and make me happily say, “Hello, 2016. It’s nice to meet you.”

My Demented Oreo

Robin Alzheimer's, Apraxia, Grace, Growth, Homeschool, Moments, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized October 11, 2015Dementia, gratitude, imperfection, Moments, paying attention, sandwich generation

I am part of what is called the sandwich generation, tucked between nurturing and growing my children and caring for aging parents. Because I am ~~naturally~~ soft in the middle, it makes sense to me that if I have to be a sandwich, I should be a cookie one.

So I have decided to be an Oreo.

Just over a year ago my father in law passed away from Alzheimer’s. The last few years of his life were a roller coaster. There were hospital stays and care facilities; anger and emptiness. The journey of Alzheimer’s is learning to grieve the living.

Although my father in law died first of Alzheimer’s, many years before he began to show signs my mother in law’s memory was disappearing.

My husband and I will celebrate our twentieth anniversary this fall, and for over 15 years of that my mother in law has been fading. Her mother had dementia, and she resigned herself to the same fate. She has never been responsible for caring for my kids. My girls have never gone to grandma’s for the weekend.

She is still one of my favorite people in the world.

I call my mother in law Winnie the Pooh. She has a heart of gold but a head full of fluff. She is never cranky, always happy. (I called my Father in Law Eyeore, because he was quite the opposite.)

While some in our family have understandably struggled with the reality of both Grandma and Grandpa radically mentally impaired, my youngest–our precious little peanut–knows no different and loves her world. She loved her grandpa.

She loves her grandma.

This week was Grandparents Day at my daughter’s school and I knew Ryan would love to have Grandma there. Her school is 20 minutes away, and the memory care facility where my mother in law lives is 40 minutes past that. That meant quite a bit of driving.

As Grandma and I were walking out the door of her home to pile in the car I asked her, “Do you know who I am?”

No. She did not.

By the time we reached the first stoplight two blocks away, she asked me half a dozen times who I was. The conversation usually goes like this…

Me: I am a married to one of your sons. Who are your sons?

MIL: Let’s see. (Starting to count on her fingers…) Bernie, Carl, Everett.

On occasion she’ll add someone else to the list, her husband or son in law.

Me: Now which one would have been smart enough to marry me?

She laughs at that every. single. time.

Me: I am married to your son Carl. Usually if you say it together, you can remember my name. Carl and _______________…

MIL: Robin.

It is an interesting conversation. Or not. But it is my life.

For the whole drive we chat about the scenery and philosophy; family and the past. It is often the same conversation on repeat. I believe the fact that she is my mother in law and not my mom makes it easier for me to enjoy her as she is. There is not as much loss to bear.

We get the walker out and toddle to the group meeting.

I get Grandma a snack she can eat with her hands. She lost the ability to effectively use silverware a while ago, but she loves a sweet treat.

Then we headed to the classroom.

Ryan was so happy. Daddy had to come along for the fun.

San Luis Classical Academy, my daughter’s school, is a beautiful part of this season of life. Ryan is on campus two days a week and homeschooled three days a week. I am hauntingly optimistic we will make tremendous progress this year.

Ryan did her “recitation” of Wynken, Blynken and Nod.

When your child can’t talk, you must improvise and prioritize. I decided that for this recitation, being comfortable in front of the class was the goal.

Look at that face. Today was a winner.

After recitations were art projects and show and tell times with Grandma.

Keep in mind that at the very moment my these pictures were taken my Mother In Law had absolutely no idea where she was or who she was talking to. None.

THIS IS GRACE.

THIS IS LOVE.

THIS IS BEAUTIFUL.

My daughter who can’t talk and my Mother in Law who can’t remember have a relationship that looks like this. And they both mean it with all their hearts.

I love this part of the Message version of the third chapter of Ecclesiastes:

A right time to cry and another to laugh, A right time to lament and another to cheer.

This is my life right now…a crazy, mixed up jumble of lamenting and crying while also laughing and cheering.

It is my demented Oreo of a life, and while I may not have chosen it, I do–in fact–love it.

The Gap Widens

Robin Apraxia, Grace, Growth, Homeschool, Special Needs Families June 24, 2015Apraxia, enduring, Moments, The Gap

Parenting is not for the faint of heart. Parenting a child with special needs is that times a gazillion.

My precious little peanut lights my life. She stretches the boundaries of my heart and tugs at the capacity of my mind. She puts a mirror smack dab in front of my laziness for me to face, whether I want to or not.

I am a much better human being because of this journey.

But it isn’t easy.

She has rounded past her first decade and still cannot talk. She has a few words but they are hard work. She has sounds and a few signs, and ideas and stories and things to get across. (Mostly so you’ll do things her way, but I can’t criticize that.)

We’ve had some beautiful moments of learning. There have been many times when things looked and felt exactly like my heart imagines homeschooling could be for her.

And many, many dry, disorganized, exhausted moments in between.

But the number 10 is keeping me up at night.

It feels so old.

Have we missed the chance to get it right? To help her all we can?

I had my heart set on taking her to a speech clinic for Apraxic kids in Michigan this summer. But the Michigan therapist says Ryan is not yet ready for her. Ten years later, and we are still at the beginning.

Go to Connecticut, she says. Get more help with Oral Motor Placement Therapy.

Okay. I will.

On the phone I chat with the specialist in Connecticut who tells me, “What you see in the body, you see in the mouth.”

~~Oh crap.~~ Good to know.

I have always placed large motor skills at the bottom of the priority list.

We can only ever have one number one priority at any given moment. Physical therapy has not been my number one for her since she started walking at 2 1/2. But I didn’t know that what you see in the body you see in the mouth.

Gotta be honest, that is not good news.

Because of Ryan’s diagnosis, she doesn’t qualify for any government help. Tri-Counties Regional Center has nothing to offer her. We pulled her out of public school because it wasn’t working. I guess I could figure out services through the district but because her private school is in the town of a different school district than the one she used to attend, I’d have to start over. Yuck.

So we are shifting our focus in the weeks leading up to Connecticut. In that spirit we joined a hike with moms and kids from Ryan’s school. (She goes to a hybrid school where she is on campus two days a week and homeschooled three days a week.)

We all started at the exact same time.

Soon, we were by ourselves.

Not too long into it she wet her pants. (HOW DID I FORGET TO MAKE SURE SHE WENT POTTY BEFORE WE LEFT? I am not an amateur, for goodness sakes.)

It would have been so. much. easier. to turn around and go back. We could have waited for everyone else at the beginning. (My older daughter and brother in law were with the group.)

But I am terrified that if I am willing to turn back, I put at risk every good thing that lies ahead of her.

So we plowed forward.

We saw cows. In the middle of the path.

It was hard for her. Hard for both of us. I am not a nature girl.

Turning back could not be an option. I cheered and waited and promised dry clothes at the car. I told her forward was the only direction we could go.

As the gap between us and them kept getting bigger.

I fight the thoughts that creep in: What if this is the rest of her life? A series of experiences where the gap between us and them grows until we are totally alone?

It is in these moments that my mantra saves my life: Head up, look to the Lord. Head down, get to work.

I cannot look around. Comparing us to others will certainly kill my dreams. The only thing that makes sense is to put one foot in front of the other.

On this day, that meant finishing the hike.

In August, it means going to Connecticut.

In September it means totally reorganizing my homeschool days because what you see in the body, you see in the mouth.

And on most days between now and then it means repeating over and over: Head up, look to the Lord. Head down, get to work.

Great Moments

Robin Growth, Homeschool, Moments, Special Needs Families June 16, 2015education, everyday, imperfection, Moments, parenting, paying attention, Ryan, Special Needs

I love summer. I love the changing of seasons; not seasons of nature but seasons of life. The coming of summer and the end of school inherently provide a time to regroup.

I often need time to regroup.

Here is the truth of my life: I think I am getting better at it.

I am not perfect. Obviously. But I am also not a perfectionist, I am a pragmatist. What I am constantly trying to move toward is a life that works. For me that means my calendar matches my priorities. In quantity of time my family comes first, but in priority of time my faith comes first.

This season is working for me because, as it turns out, I love to learn. In church and Bible Study I am in a fruitful season of learning God’s word and how it applies to life. In parenting, my girls are in a fantastic school–on campus a few days a weeks and at home the others. Reagan is completely in charge of her own learning, and Ryan is homeschooled a few days a week.

After four years, I may be getting the hang of it. I actually finished the school year with momentum…and I am excited about the coming year.

It’s crazy, I know. I was actually…organized.

I want to push pause on a moment. In one of our homeschool days this spring, there was a breakthrough.

This is an activity we have done many, many times. Baking soda, vinegar, water, corn starch and food coloring have provided hours of entertaining engagement. This day we were using it as our fine motor activity. All of the squeezing and pinching making her little hands stronger on our road to learn to write.

Mostly I sat back and watched, letting her explore and combine.

The breakthrough came…for the first time, ever, Ryan did not combine all the colors into one big brownish-greyish gloomy mess.

Obviously she is still a bit messy. ($3 clear shower curtains get a lot of use as craft-table covers in our home.) But she was more careful than I have ever seen her.

This summer we want to continue to strengthen her foundational skills so that we can embrace the curriculum more thoroughly this fall. We intend to read more and exercise more. In August she and I will head to Connecticut to get a thorough evaluation and several sessions with an expert in Oral Motor Placement Therapy. It is our attempt to progress in teaching her to talk.

We are not ready to give up hope.

Meanwhile, we will do all we can do to enjoy this season, these moments, this child.

“And God looked at all He had made, and indeed it was very good.”

Genesis 1:31

What is Normal?

Robin Homeschool, Moments, Special Needs Families, Uncategorized November 16, 2014

I admit that there are moments when doubt and fear creep into my head and heart about my daughter’s future.

Will she be normal?

Ryan is the only one in the world with her particular chromosomal abnormality. Apparently, I have bad genes. Great.

She is almost ten and can’t talk. Years and years of speech therapy, but still no ability to form a sentence. She can utter few words. She can use a few signs.

As a family we function very well. We guess and decipher and encourage and learn and endure some melt downs as her world and her thoughts expand. But every once in a while I am able to step outside myself and feel how abnormal my normal is.

Sure, she went to four years of kindergarten. Not normal, but absolutely the right thing for her.

No, she is not in Special Education. She obviously qualifies, but my hubby and I don’t believe the system would invest in her; it would merely endure her.

All this is not normal. We are not a part of the typical crowd, we are not a part of the special ed crowd. We don’t fit in.

But, save a few moments filled with ridiculous and useless panic, we enjoy the journey…

Years ago my family began a tradition of going to Disneyland for Halloween.

In my opinion, the Christian Community–of which I am a proud and vocal member–is nutty about Halloween. The whole gather on the 31st of October, in costume, to collect candy, and call it any other name you want and declare you don’t celebrate Halloween is just not for me. And, truthfully, the small town I grew up in had many streets with no lights and obnoxious teenagers that would drive around and smash pumpkins all evening, so my initial thoughts about traditional Halloween are not fabulous. I wanted/needed/searched for a better third option, and Disney was it.

This year, unbeknownst to me, my hubby planned an entire trip to Disneyworld.

Two weeks.

Five different resorts.

Unbelievable.

We packed up and moved our tradition to Florida.

As is the normal routine, one of our first stops the evening we arrive is Downtown Disney to choose a costume. My teen was willing to dress up, but there really was not a great costume for her. (Note to self, a bit of planning and preparation would have been helpful.) Most of the searching was done by my peanut.

I lobbied heavily for this:

But as precious as she was in that costume, and as much as she loved it, when we got into the dressing room she looked at me pleadingly, made her hand into a fist and tapped the wood bench with, “Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock…” which is her way of asking for FROZEN. (Cue the sound track: “Elsa? Do you want to build a snowman?”)

So my daughter, with unlimited options before her, wanted to be a princess from FROZEN for Halloween this year.

It doesn’t get any more “normal” than that.

This Is Your Moment

Robin Homeschool, Moments, Uncategorized September 22, 2014beauty, education, everyday, homeschool, parenting, paying attention

Educating my kids is the hardest part of parenting for me.

The truth is that I ended up hating school, as did my son. And my heart breaks wanting things to be different for my girls.

Three and a half years ago, as my middle was finishing up fifth grade, my hubby and I set out to look at different education options with only one question in mind: Where will she get the most excellent education?

The choice, within that framework, was very easy. That fall our family became part of the San Luis Classical Academy family. It is a hybrid education, where she was in classes with wonderful teachers two days a week, and home schooled the other three. They guided the home days, and we got to add our own stamp to what we learned.

It was the best educational decision we have ever made.

Now she has started high school. And the school is having its very first CIF teams. Ever. It is our first volleyball season as parents, hers as a player and the schools as a team. We love it.

At the game the other day, the senior member of the team started encouraging the girls by saying, “This is your moment.” We were loving it in the stands…every time momentum was going in the wrong direction, she would call it out.

She was right. These really ARE the moments. Life, an abundant life, certainly has grand gestures and big events, but it is the simple of the everyday that really makes things beautiful.

Right before my eyes, she is changing. It feels like she grows an inch a week, and if I could I would sweep her back to chubby cheeks and endless days right by my side. But I can’t, so I will do what I can to pay attention today…because there is so much to be awed by.

She loves school because she loves to learn. We are watching and rooting her on, as we wipe away the tears when she’s not looking. Seeing my kids grow up breaks my heart with beauty.

We are transfixed. We are grateful. She has read Chaucer and Shakespeare; The Illiad and Beowolf. She has been wrapped in science and loves geometry. She joined the Writers Club. After volleyball she heads downtown to get dinner and then attends youth group at church with her friends.

My heart is overflowing with gratitude that God has blessed this process so abundantly, and I will breathe it in deeply because this moment will be gone all to soon.

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak. Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.

ISAIAH 40:29-32

Five Goals for 2016

He gives strength to the weary
and increases the power of the weak.
Even youths grow tired and weary,
and young men stumble and fall;
but those who hope in the Lord
will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
they will run and not grow weary,
they will walk and not be faint.