Pathways to preschool

A couple weeks ago Brian was in Dallas, and I was spending the morning with the kids like usual. I had just settled Patrick down for his morning nap and came back downstairs to get Hartley set up doing an art activity. I pulled out a princess coloring book that my aunt had given her along with a jar full of crayons. She gravitated towards her art supplies like she always does; I love that crayons and markers have an almost magnetic force over her. I figured now I was set up to do the business of my morning - return a call from the Neuro Developmental pediatrician at Children's Hospital that Hartley's pediatrician referred us to.

A cheery voice on the other end of the phone chirped what seemed like a million questions related to Hartley's development. As the princess coloring book lost its luster I began doling out princess stickers. As usual none were ending up on the pages of the coloring book. Princess after princess found her place stuck on Hartley's little white table. 

I talked about Hartley like she wasn't there, which I hate but it's sometimes unavoidable seeing as I make these calls during business hours. And even though I feel like I've discussed her development ad naseum, every time discussing it with someone new just feels draining. Our conversation concluded with the lady on the other end asking me to have all of Hartley's records faxed over to her so they could review them and call me back to schedule an appointment. I hung up feeling a little worse than when the call began honestly. 

In that moment I felt so tired. Brian was gone so I knew after the kids went to bed he wouldn't be there to talk to me about the phone call. I had been feeling like Hartley was progressing but not as quickly as her peers so I was feeling "the gap" widen. I repeated my mom's words to myself, "it might get a little worse before it gets better". I took a deep breath and reminded myself to enjoy Hartley. My mind was bogged down with these little worries that sometimes seem unavoidable but I need to remember to enjoy my beautiful, quirky 2 year old. 

A short time later I glanced down at my phone and realized I had missed a call. Hartley's service coordinator, Carole, had left me a voicemail. She calls from time to time to check in about how Hartley is doing and if I miss her call I usually just call back without listening to the voicemail but that day I decided I would. She said she was calling to discuss "an opportunity for Hartley", and I knew exactly what it would be. I actually wasn't disappointed that they would be inviting Hartley to Pathways to Preschool, a camp of sorts to get the kids ready for Special Ed preschool in the fall. Honestly, around this time I was starting to realize that things were stalling out a bit and things were actually getting more challenging than usual. The scripting had increased and she was talking in a lot of gibberish. Her ability to listen and focus weren't so hot. And while I know these lulls will happen, quite frankly, they are never fun.

As soon as I called Carole back and she extended the invitation, I accepted. I didn't even attempt calling to discuss it with Brian first. It was much more of a "just tell me where and when and no matter what, Hartley and I will be there". 

I did ask Carole if she'd ever heard of a child being invited to attend Pathways and then be found ineligible for Special Ed preschool. She said she hadn't ever heard of a case like that and that she thinks Hartley will be eligible to attend Special Ed preschool this fall. 

I'm certainly not holding her to this, and I'm still constantly saying that we don't know for sure that Hartley is eligible. Her little team will be surprised if she is not eligible to attend but nothing is final; we still have assessments ahead of us. 

This week, however, Hartley and I started Pathways. 

Yesterday morning was a little nerve wracking. It actually felt like the first day of school for yours truly. I placed my cup of coffee on the kitchen table along with my bowl of special K. Normally I scarf down my breakfast because I usually have about a minute to eat before someone needs something. But I felt too nervous to eat so for once I didn't mind avoiding my breakfast and rescuing thrown sippy cups or lost toys instead. 

I dressed Hartley in an outfit I bought her earlier this summer. For some reason I put a lot of thought into what outfit she'd wear, and I picked a certain one because it reminded me so much of the outfits my mom used to dress me in as a little girl. I remember my mom having my siblings and I stand on the front stoop wearing our backpacks standing next to one another for a first day of school picture. Thanks to Pinterest these pictures have evolved to always include a chalkboard which a caption of the day. Well, I knew Hartley would never stand or sit facing the camera and holding the sign but of course I attempted it anyway.

As we got into the car I realized I didn't have the princess CD with me so I played my Justin Bieber CD (judge away, I like what I like). Hartley actually sang along to "Sorry" in her sweet, soft singing voice. I had my notebook with written directions in my lap and thought about how one of these days I should probably join the rest of the world with using a phone gps instead. 

As I read the last direction, I could see the school pop up right in front me. I took a deep breath and figured now was as good a time as any. I've actually never left my 2.5 year old in someone's care that isn't family. Yes, I realize that makes me sound crazy but I just had never gotten to it, I guess. 

We walked in and she held my hand so tightly. All these various emotions churned inside me: nervousness, pride, excitement. I hoped I was keeping up a good poker face as I talked to Hartley about how much fun we were about to have. 

We got to the classroom, and every couple seconds she looked around to make sure I was never more than a foot away from her. For the brief 30 seconds I had walked to the corner of the room to plop down my diaper bag, I immediately heard a familiar voice screeching, "MAMA! MAMA!" 

"It's okay, sweetie. Mama just had to put down her bag. I'm not going anywhere!" Lies. I knew our time was numbered. 

We walked around the classroom exploring our new, primary colored surroundings. We spent most of our time playing with a box of plastic kitchen supplies and toy food. She was having a ball playing independently. She pretended to cook, and I watched wondering when they'd herd the parents out like cattle. 

Once all the other students arrived, we did circle time. I always wonder if the little plastic chairs are truly able to hold adult weight because Hartley always wants me to sit right next to her. We both sat in our teeny plastic chairs, and I rubbed her back so she'd remember I was right there. 

We sang the welcome song, then the wheels on the bus. Everything was going smoother than I expected. Then, it was time. 

I can't even fully revisit the moment I had to leave her because it was awful.

Hartley cried. She screamed out for me. Then tears started pouring out of me, too. I grabbed my diaper bag and ran out of the room at the ushering of our service coordinator.

I was the first parent out the door. I was the only one crying. My child was the only one screaming at the top of her lungs for her mom. 

I breezed through the colorfully decorated hallway to the room the moms were supposed to go to. Both of the service coordinators had the most empathetic looks as I tried desperately to look like I wasn't tearing up. It was embarrassing but in that moment I felt too upset to be too embarrassed. 

They sat us down and had us do a crafting activity. So that actually helped me a lot. Crafting is my happy place so I just engrossed myself in the little book they had us make. It was definitely a little awkward. Even though we had gone around the room introducing ourselves, it certainly doesn't feel right to ask what exactly is up with the other kids. But I can't lie, with the exception of the children with physical disabilities, I desperately wanted to know. I wanted to know if anyone's child was like Hartley because so far I have no friends with children that are "like" Hartley. I wanted to feel like I could talk to these women. Did anyone feel a little weird about all of this? Or maybe I'm the only one? What are these moms struggling with? To they have some of the thoughts and feelings I have? Well, yesterday I wouldn't learn any answers to those questions. But today, I did. And for the first time, I felt far less weird and alone. I actually was quite proud of myself today for cheering on my fellow moms. 

I was that lady who hopped up from her seat to reassure another mom, "you are not failing your child". Yes, I beat the service coordinators to the punch. I have repeated to myself many times "Page, you are not failing Hartley." So I was very quick to tell a fellow mom what I often need to hear. I actually never knew how comforting and yet heartbreaking it would hear to hear another mom say, "I think I'm failing my son".

The truth is, we are not failing our children. We are actually doing so much for them. I told her how sometimes I know that I'm supposed to repeat a phase a thousand times for Hartley to get it but that I get so tired of hearing my own voice that sometimes I just want to stop talking. I told her how relieved I am that starting this fall I won't feel like all of this weight to be this perfect mom 24/7 won't rest on my shoulders. Hartley will have teachers and friends she gets to learn language from instead of just me. The feeling that your child is struggling and you don't feel totally qualified to help them is awful. So I often remind myself of all the fantastic things that I do for Hartley and that helps me feel better.

While I've spent the last couple mornings in uncharted territory with strangers, Hartley has done extremely well.

The first day she substituted Carole in for me, and she stayed very close to her during her mom-free preschool time. I'm incredibly grateful that Carole acted as mom to her, and I know it was invaluable to Hartley.

Day two Hartley blossomed a bit more and she made a new friend. She followed around a little girl name Sophie. She actually sat and sang during circle time. When they brought the kids back to the moms, Hartley's face lit up at the sight of me. She smiled a gigantic smile and sprinted full speed into my arms. The room let out a collective, "awwww". I'm sure everyone is now well aware that my child and I are ridiculously attached to one another - and who knows if it's a healthy amount. 

As we drove home today I felt very proud of us both. We are both taking on something completely new, and we are both trying our very best. Sometimes it's fun. Sometimes it's hard. And so far our like practice preschool kind of seems like both at the same time. 

I hope the rest of Pathways goes as well as the first two days went. I hate even using this term but I can't find a better one so - I hope this early intervention is helpful. 

And I look forward to coming back on here to share more of our little school adventures. 

I also realize I'm way past due on a Patrick update as he is developing insanely fast all of a sudden. But that is for another day and another nap time :)

The Last Day of 30.

I think whenever birthdays roll around I have a tendency to reflect - on my life, the past year, etc. 

When I hit 30 last year, I felt anxious, uncertain and uneasy. I was 8 months pregnant with Patrick, and I couldn't keep up with my very active toddler. I felt so much self doubt about my ability to care for and juggle a newborn and a 1 year old. I wasn't entirely loving my choice to be a stay at home mom, and I was wondering if I was missing out because I didn't have a "real career". We were outgrowing our townhouse but I was terrified to move. I was disappointed in myself, honestly. I kind of felt like I was just this boring stay at home mom. 

And the truth is, I don't look back at that milestone birthday very fondly. I actually feel kind of bad for that woman who was holding herself to these high standards of what she was supposed to be just because the calendar had hit a certain date.

31, however, I feel very proud of myself. This past year, I gave birth to my son. I learned how to be a mom to two children under the age of two. Brian traveled a lot last fall, and I learned just how much I could do all on my own! We underwent the process of selling, buying and moving with an infant, toddler and dog - and around Christmas. And since Brian's work was insanely busy, I actually was an extremely active participant in taking care of all the move things. 

Weeks after the move, Hartley turned two, and my job as a mom got a little more complex. I learned about some oddities in her development, and I took on an advocacy role and started to learn therapy exercises to help her. I actually did the same for Patrick for a gross motor delay; though his issues concern us far less, honestly. I did my first mommy and me class with Hartley in the spring; we took ballet. And it was quite humbling to be the mom of "the quirky kid" ;) A great lesson in patience. I also started volunteering for The American Cancer Society through a program called Look Good, Feel Better. I actually have grown to love being a stay at home mom. I can't imagine doing anything else right now but my volunteering has reminded me that I do have skills outside of my domestic skill set. 

Don't get me wrong, I still have some bad days. I didn't magically become some perfect, enlightened being over this past year. But I'm going into 31 feeling really good. I'm proud of this past year, I'm more confident, and I'm hopeful that the year ahead will be a great one. 

I always joke about my age. I high five people who card me and I thank people who opt to call me "miss" instead of "ma'am". But I truly would not trade where I am in life for anything. 

Cheers to the last day of 30! 

Fireworks

I don't remember the last Friday where I was excited as I was this past Friday. I knew Brian would get out of work relatively early, and he was bringing home Mellow Mushroom for dinner. And then our little family would have three full days together. Seriously, all weekends need to be three day weekends! 

I'd also been looking forward to taking the kids to a firework show. It's been years since I've done the quilt in the grass, live music, food truck, real deal fireworks show. We always watch the neighborhood fireworks at my parents' house, which is really fantastic but definitely a different experience. It does offer the comfort of being able to pop inside of the kids were to freak out, so a super crowded show not very close to home was a gamble. However, I'm happy to report it went very well. 

We took them to Lansdowne Resort because I've always heard such good things about their Fourth of July celebration. The place was a little "too much" for me when we first got there. It was a very long walk from the parking lot to the resort, and we should've brought the double stroller but naively opted for the single. The ticket lines were long. And the lines for food were even longer. We're talking 50 minutes to buy an overpriced hot dog long, and God knows how well that works for families of babies and toddlers. 

Again, our naivety, we bought a bunch of food tickets we couldn't use because the lines were too long, and I was annoyed because I was hungry and looking forward to all this food they advertised. But luckily the Good Humor line was short and sweet, so we ate ice cream for dinner. Hartley was all about it! Here I was pissed because I thought I'd get this fully loaded hot dog, and she couldn't be any happier to pummel two ice cream cones instead! Yeah, if you're gathering from this story that I'm one of those people who gets hangry - you're spot on, no shame, I am. 

But Hartley was loving life twirling around and dancing to the live music, face and dress covered in chocolate. Patrick was his normal jovial self. He was literally bouncing himself on the blanket and loving watching the big kids do cartwheels in front of him. He only tried to crawl off like 50 times ;) We saw that the kids were having fun but as the masses grew, we had no idea how we'd do the trek back to the car in the huge crowd of hundreds, if not thousands, of people. Especially with no stroller for Hartley. Then the idea of having two tired kids sit in traffic waiting to get out? Reality struck that we couldn't do it - especially my hangry self!

So we packed things up and headed to the playground in front of the resort. Hartley loved playing on the playground, until she discovered a beach volleyball court. Then she decided the beach was her hangout for the night! She made friends like little kids do and just began running around with her new buddies on "the beach". A little girl came up to Hartley and asked her to play tag. I didn't take pictures or a video because I didn't want to creep out the other parents but it was the picture of perfection. All these sweet, Americana-clad babes chasing each other around and laughing endlessly. 

Well, not endlessly because Hartley did end up getting plowed. But it actually kind of worked out because the mom of the kid that plowed her gave her a lollipop, and that ended up being good bribery to get her to sit in my lap and watch the fireworks ;)

Hartley absolutely loved the fireworks. She was cheering and screaming, "whoa! Fireworks!" Patrick seemed a tad unsure at first but Brian scooped him up and being held securely in his dad's arms, he discovered he liked them, too! 

We watched the first ten minutes from the playground, and then we decided we had a long walk back to the car so the kids could enjoy watching them as we headed to the swagger wagon. Every now and then we hit a sweet spot and would stop so Hartley could watch from a prime viewpoint. But we made it to the car just as the finale was happening so I'm proud to report - we beat the heinous traffic!

Patrick's eyes were hardly open as I loaded him in the car but Hartley was wide awake. Go figure. Her little body was covered in sweat, dirt, sand and chocolate, and she was one very happy, very sticky little girl. 

When we got home, it was around ten o'clock so it was dirty to bed! I thought ahead for Patrick and had him dressed in Patriotic pajamas for the event so he could just be moved into bed. And I think even Hartley knew she was nearing her limit as I took off her sand-filled shoes and got her changed. 

I couldn't believe what a success the night had been. Yeah, I wish we could've used our tickets. We passed them off to some grandparents who had just been hanging out with their own grandchildren so I felt like they had probably earned some free drinks ;)   But a 2 year old and an almost one year old spending hours out somewhere and not a single meltdown, only smiles? Complete success! 

Now I need to go find myself that hot dog...