Love is patient, Love is kind...

Well after 5 solid days of high fevers, headaches, diarrhea and nausea, my sweet little Finny is finally on the mend. He came down with some nasty bug last Thursday, and was completely thrown for a loop until well into Monday afternoon. He'd flirt with low 100-101 temperatures for much of the daytimes, especially with ibuprofen running through his system, but every night he'd shoot right back up to the mid to high 103's, even measuring as high as 105. He ate next to nothing. He hardly left the couch. He sobbed through what must have been some really intense headaches for such a little man.

He was such a trooper and hardly complained at all. But by the time Tuesday morning rolled around and he wake fever free and finally ready to begin the recovery process, he was a wasted, broken little boy.

It's been a rough week this week. Honestly, with Finny, the recovery from illness is always harder on everyone (including him) than the sickness itself. He seems to do fine being wiped out, zonking on the couch with heavy doses of drinks in straw cups, videos, books and some coloring thrown in for fun. But come the day when he must rise from his stupor and actually accomplish anything whatsoever and it is as though the sky is falling every.single.time something doesn't go his way.

I know he physically cannot control himself in many ways. I know his little body struggles even on the best of days to maintain a sense of normalcy and balance that most of us take for granted. Sensory Processing Disorder is not something that he does on purpose just to make life difficult for himself and those he loves.

But can I just admit something here?

Man is it hard to maintain compassion and patience through a day (or two or three) of a five and a half year old boy whining, complaining, arguing, fussing, grumbling, withering, crying, whimpering and generally grumping through every single moment. I am thankful beyond words for my three other children who have been beyond patient and compassionate as they watch their brother fall to the floor in a heap of misery every time he has to, say, I don't know, choose a spoon to eat the pudding treat he should be thankful to be given. And I am thankful that I was blessed with enough patience and kindness to get through the day without just locking him in his room and putting earplugs in. But man, it took everything in me to not completely lose my cool with that boy. Actually, it took more than I had, which is where God stepped in and took over my own human will and weaknesses.

So I just wanted to vent that here. I love Finny more than I can say. He struggles, yes, but his struggles hit parts of my heart that I cannot even fathom being touched by anyone else. I ache to watch him suffer (and he has suffered more than all my other children combined in his short little life). But I just love him beyond reason. And yes, the past two days have been hard. I know he's lost a few pounds. I know he's weak and tired and his body has been thrown completely out of balance with the fevers and lack of nutrition over the many days of his very difficult flu. And I know that with patience, consistency, love and a whole lot of his OT exercises and some extra doses of sweetness on my part that we will see our sweet boy emerge again in a few days.

Sigh. But man, it's a stretch for me.

Thank you Lord. For Finny. For patience. For the grace You've shown me that has taught me how to show grace to others. For three other loving and patient children who know when to step back to let a brother in need get whatever it is he needs from me. And for the 12 hour break while he sleeps so I can ready myself (and You can fill me up with more of your grace and patience...) for yet another healthy day...

Check.

I just finished a new Occupational Therapy activity schedule for Finny that includes more summer-friendly activities. It also includes more activities that I think I will be able to stick with, and most of the choices that take a lot of time and energy on my part (the choices that often got skipped, in other words...) have been replaced by more Mommy-friendly activities. ;o)

Anyway. I just feel REALLY GOOD to have a new list of fun activities to do with my boy! And most of them I know at least Goose, and probably even Punky, will want to participate in. So that will make for some fun summer family time.

I'm excited. I hope Finny likes his new activities. And I am reminded how much better I do when things are new and changed up... I get complacent when schedules and activities get a bit stale. I need to take a mental note for the many years of OT and homeschooling ahead of us...

Update on Finny's Schedule

We're doing pretty well keeping on a schedule with Finny's OT activities. I plotted it out a couple of weeks ago, and we now have seven specific activities to do each day of the week, slotted about every other hour.

And I just had to write a quick post to say that I have seen a world of difference in Finny! Sure he still has his low days and his absent minded/space cadet days... but on the whole, he's really doing great. We have all as a family found that we can pretty easily identify when he's running "high" or "low" and even Finny seems able to recognize when he's not "just right," though he's still often confused about the details. When he starts overreacting to every little thing, or throwing fits over seemingly unimportant obstacles, we've learned that he's "low" and we need to do an activity. When he's not paying attention to his body or actions, apparently that's a "high" engine (Have I mentioned the whole engine thing? That's the program the OT has us working on with him that helps him learn better how to self regulate - like a car engine, our bodies need to be just right. If our "engines" run too low, it's like a broken down car. Too high is like a race car and can lose control. But just right is like a nice, average car in good condition - it can go where it needs to go but does not get so fast that it loses control. So that's how we talk around our house now - it's all about high, low and just right!) and he needs some attention with an activity, too.

I've definitely noticed that the times when I am not consistent with his activities through the day he has a much harder time regulating himself and flops from high to low depending on the day. So I feel very rewarded with the schedule in that I can see the difference it makes for him, so I keep at it, even when I have other things that feel more important at the moment.

But with the more predictable schedule, Finny does not fight the activities, even when one he's not in love with pops up. He is totally OK with whatever activity I have set for the moment, and he does it all virtually without complaint, which is a huge improvement from a few weeks back when I was the Big Mean Mommy and he felt so frustrated by ti all.

So, that's how things are going. A boy who is happier and healthier is a good sign to me that we're doing something right. And I am so happy to be seeing so much more of my happy, bright eyed and positive little Sunshine Boy!

Progress

Well, today we are starting our OT therapy schedule for Finny, and even though it is just one small part of our day, and only really aimed towards one small person in the house, I think it is already making a world of difference.

I feel more productive, I feel ready to direct Finny, and I feel good knowing that when the kitchen timer beeps every two hours(thank you Mary Grace for yet another useful idea) I have something written down and ready to follow.

And the funny thing is I have been dreading the idea of sitting down and writing out any sort of schedule forhis OT activities for weeks! It just felt like such a daunting and overwhelming task. But when I finally sat down and put the rough draft together last night, it wasn't a big deal at all. Of course it's not complete - I did just list seven activities for each day (one for every two waking hours) but did not put them in any particular order. That way I have the freedom to pick a more intense activity if he needs it, or a simple, short one if I do not have the time or attention to spare for him at that particular moment. I find I work better with a structure, but I still need flexibility or I tend to just quit when I fall behind or get overwhelmed.

So really, for Day 1, it's hard to say how good of a schedule it is. I can only hope that it will continue as well as it has started. Plenty of time to fall off the path of good intentions, after all. But I feel good today and I really enjoy having some direction in this area of my life.

Also, I started my first day of sneaking in one extra chore per weekday. Monday mornings will be the day that, in addition to the normal daily chores, I do a pick up and tidy in the little guys' rooms. Finny and Punky share a room and are responsible for keeping it clean. They pick up daily, but do a full clean every Friday morning. But Girly Pie and Goose are too little to pick up their own rooms, and I tend to fall behind when I set something on their dressers or someone takes a toy out and no one gets around to putting it away. Though their rooms are not terrilbe, they are often untidy and cluttered looking. And really, they will have years of havign messy big kid rooms. I'd like to enjoy them while they are still cute, little guy rooms. So Monday morning seems a good time to plan on a slightly more formal attempt at making their rooms look neat and sweet.

So there is a quick update on my progress as I make efforts to improving my own follow through and organization. I'm still looking forward to other helpful hints. The one I got so far was a great reminder to just take baby steps and try one thing at a time so I don't overload and give up. Thanks for the tip, Tree Climbing Mom! ;o)

Date Night

It's amazing how healing it can be to just go out with one of your children for an evening.

Finny was having a particularly hard day today, and though I do not have it in my to go into details here, I will say that I gathered from him that he has not been feeling very well loved lately. By me, that is. He has not felt loved by me.

So, aside from breaking my mother's heart, I felt compelled to go out of my way to make special time for just Finny. My husband was kind enough to come home a little early from work this afternoon and happily kept the other three kiddos home so that I could take my dear, sweet, sad Finny out for a Mommy Date.

We went to the local craft store and he spent his birthday money on a fun craft. He also spent his own money to get small gifts for each of his brothers. He is such a sweet boy.

Then we went to the restaurant of his choice, which was of course Red Robin. I must admit that I am really quite sick of good ol' American food... but it was his choice, so Red Robin it was. He delighted in choosing his seat and getting me all to himself. He did lament the lack of Punky in particular a few times - but that just makes for a better day tomorrow after having missed one another tonight, I figure.

So, I got to carry my five year old boy through parking lots and have completely uninterrupted conversations with my little guy.

Did you ever notice before that that the crescent shape of the waxing or waning moon looks remarkably similar to a flying banana? No. I hadn't noticed that before tonight, either. But that Finny is one observant and imaginative fellow.

So the night was good. The day was salvaged.

Thank you Lord for good friends who are there to talk me back from hysterical fits of depression over what must surely be my complete lack of competency in parenting. Thank you for a husband who, despite his faults, knows when his wife really needs him. Thank you for an almost seven year old big brother who didn't even bat an eye when told his little brother was going out on a Mommy Date, even though he himself had just been pining for one just last week. Thank you for a two year old little brother who lavished a very sad Finny with kisses at his lowest point today. Thank you for a baby girl who managed to need me just little enough today that I was able to pour just that much more into a five year old boy who just needed me. In short, Thank you Lord for blessing me with all that I need to accomplish the tasks you have set before me.

And thank you for flying bananas. I needed that tonight - that little reminder that my sweet, funny, happy boy is still in there, somewhere.

A Birthday Letter

Dear Finny,

I tucked you in tonight, your last night as a four year old. The next time I see you awake you will be five. And Finny, I just don’t know how I feel about that. Normally I have a bit of a down time right before one of you guys ahs a birthday in general. Another year gone by. Another age behind us and a new one beginning. That’s just me. And when Punky turned five I went through it too. Five somehow seems so big. Somehow, the little boy you have been up until now just does not seem ready to fill the shoes of a FIVE YEAR OLD.

And with you in particular, my little Finny William, I just do not know how those five year old shoes will ever fit you quite right.

When I first saw you, five years ago at 3:27am on January 11, 2004, it was love at first sight. You came swiftly in the night, my first home birth with only 3 ½ hours of total labor. I had hardly gained any weight in my pregnancy and looked so small compared to my pregnancy with your big brother that I was positive you would be a petite little sister… there was no way I could possibly have been hiding anything over 6 pounds or so in that oh-so-small nine month belly of mine. So when you came and I first saw you, so round, so chunky, so long and with SUCH big hands, I was shocked. Your hair was thicker and longer than many one year olds, and jet black – though if I looked closely I could already see the silver blond color at the roots. You looked nothing at all like Punky had looked, nothing like the carbon copy of your Daddy that he was (and still is). You looked just like my baby pictures, in fact. And oh how sweet you were. By far the happiest, smiliest, funniest baby I have ever met. Never has another baby stolen my heart the way you did. Now don’t get me wrong, I do so love my children, each and every one of you… and I can say with all honesty that I do not love any of you more than another. You just have this way with me that I cannot resist. Your charm, your quirks, your smile… your carefree nature… you just always made being a baby, or a toddler, or even an early pre-schooler just look like so much fun.

As a baby you just smiled through everything. As a toddler, you just laughed it all off. I remember one day when you were about 18 months old. I had finally gotten you dressed again (you were naked more often than not) and mostly cleaned up after a nice, sunny summer day in our new construction yard full of dirt. I went around the corner of our driveway to water the plants and when I came back, there you were naked yet again… showering in the dripping water from the hanging plant I had just watered. You just stood there, buck naked, running your fingers through your white shoulder-length mop of hair as you let the cold water run all down your body. You looked like a grown up enjoying a long, hot shower. I couldn’t help but laugh at you. You were the one who walked around with a blanket over your head and bumping into walls, just to see what it felt like. You were the boy who rolled naked in dirt, refusing to wear clothes, and when you would wear them you usually chose jammies. You luxuriated in meal times, often smearing your food in your hair or all over your (again, usually naked) body. You climbed everything, more often than not falling off of whatever great height you reached. You rarely cried when you fell, usually just dusting yourself off and looking for the next adventure. Suffering from years of chronic ear fluid, infections and many a month of a wheat restricted diet in an effort to ward off the threat of ear tubes, you really never seemed to get bogged down by it all.

You, Finny, were my Sunshine Boy. Nothing seemed able to dim the glow that just seemed to emanate from your whole self.

And now, my sweet, Sunny boy, I sit here on the eve of your fifth birthday and fight off the tears as I think of you now. Trapped in a body that just does not seem able to handle all the troubles life throws at you. Frustrated at just about every step you stumble over. I can still see that sunshine in there. You still have days, weeks even, when you are all sunshine and roses, goodness and light. You still can make some of the tougher struggles in life just seem like fun anyway. But it seems that much too often now, you make even the simplest of feats seem like more than a soul can bear.

It’s called SPD. Sensory Processing Disorder. It’s something I had never heard of before in my life until Mare Grace mentioned it with her sons. And even then, it was just a thing her kids suffered from. Just some odd part of life that came from, I figured, being born a few weeks prematurely and that her kids would work through and outgrow eventually. It was never, ever something that even flickered on my radar as your mom. You were perfect. You were happy. Nothing bothered you. Sure you had quirks. But man, it was those quirks that made you such a happy baby. Such a dynamic and high spirited toddler. Such a goofy and delightful three year old.

But then, just a few months shy of your fifth birthday, all those quirks, those cute, babyish ways of yours that seemed so endearing and that I so delighted in for so many years, were just not going away. Suddenly, they weren’t so cute anymore. And you weren’t so happy anymore, either.

Now in hindsight, it all makes a little more sense. I know now that you were seeking sensory input for all those years when you climbed, jumped, fell, rolled, hung, wiggled and squirmed your way through the throes of toddlerhood. I can see that all those messy mealtimes of a silly boy painting himself in syrup or spaghetti sauce were actually deeply satisfying sensory experiences for a boy who was craving them from somewhere deep inside his body. I know that the oblivion in which you lived was just fine for a little boy. A baby.

But now as you approach an age that most children seem so suddenly grown up in, you just aren’t quite there yet. You still want to be that baby. You still want to do the messy, goofy, quirky things that one, two and three year olds can do. You still choose to speak in a baby voice and often back down from any form of responsibility. Any frustration that comes your way seems to be life altering to a boy who struggles just to get through a day full of sensory attacks.

I just don’t know what to do, Finny. Tonight you had a complete breakdown before bed. You stubbornly refused to do even the simple task of climbing the stairs and fought tooth and nail the things we asked of you. You went to bed howling and yelling at the top of your lungs. You cried and cried and cried for what seemed to the rest of us to be no reason at all. And I fought so hard to hold back my own tears. When you finally calmed down enough to talk your voice was hoarse from the yelling and you seemed so small, so frail and helpless. You were my little baby again. And it was just hard, Finny, to know that you are not that baby today. I can’t let you stay in this safe and warm world of mine, the world of Mommy. As your Mommy, I want to hold you and make it all better. I want to tell you it will all be OK and give you anything you want to make it be alright.

But I can’t.

I can’t make it all better. I can’t save you from your troubles. I can’t make your choices for you. I want to Baby, I really do. But I can’t do it.

And I pray for you so much. I know the Lord has made you perfectly and that He doesn’t make mistakes. I know that He will make something beautiful and strong out of your weakness and your struggles. I believe He has led us to a therapist who can really help you and can show us ways to help you grow and feel better. I know that one of the many reasons that he brought Mary Grace and her family into our lives is so that I could learn about SPD and knowhow to find the right people to help you, to help our whole family.

And I do have faith that everything will be alright someday.

But tonight, as I prepare the house to be just right for you to wake up to your fifth birthday, I admit that I am just a little bummed that it isn’t as easy or as fun as it once was. It is hard for me to see your sunny disposition replaced by an often sour and glum frustration at all of life’s troubles, whether those troubles are real or just perceived. It’s hard for me to see you struggle so. It seems hard for us both to let you grow up, Finny.

That’s a new one on me. Of course I always joke that I’d love my babies to stay babies forever. I do love babies, after all. But I delight in your growth, your maturing and discovering the world, the life God has prepared for you all. And Punky has always seemed more than ready to embrace the bigger world that lies ahead of him. He is ready to get big and go for it. So to see you struggling with it… well, I just don’t know what to do.

So that is what is on my heart tonight, my boy. I would love to sit here and tell you all about all the wonderful things you are doing and about how great a five year old you will be. I’d love to say that everything in life excites you and that everything is hunky dory. But instead, I sit here with a bit of a heavy heart. I sit here, wondering just how hard this year of growth, therapy, home exercises and increased discipline will be for you. I want to go on and on about what a wonderful artist you are, but I am nagged by the thought of how many times you sit down to draw only for it to end in a flood of tears and frustration that it’s not turning out right. I’d love to say how great you get along with your brothers and your sister. But instead I am sad to think of how many arguments have come from your rigidity with the boys, or about how you are limited in your time with Girly Pie because you cannot seem to control yourself when you are near her. I want to talk about your friends, but it breaks my heart to see you on the outside of most social circumstances.

I want so badly to have some great silver lining to offer. But tonight, I just don’t have it in me. Tonight I let go of one more year with my baby boy, not knowing what is to come as he becomes just that much more of a young man, a young man who is struggling and confused, both physically and emotionally.

But I will pray for peace and strength. I will pray for healing for you and for understanding for us all. I will pray for His will to be made just clear enough that I can know the part I am to play in your life right now. And I will pray and work to stay in today, not longing for the Finny that was, not worrying too terribly much over the Finny that will come.

And know this, my dear Finny William. I love you so very much. You do still light up my heart when you smile and when you are happy. And it breaks my heart so to see you hurting and sad. I rejoice with your cheers and I cry with your pain. And I want you to know that for as long as I am here and as long as God wills me to, I will walk this walk with you. I know someday you may be called to walk on this road alone. But for now, and for as long as I can, I will be here to carry you through it and hold your hand. And then, when God calls me to step back, I will hopefully have done my job and will put your hand in His and He will take you the rest of the way.

So goodnight, my sweet boy. I do hope you sleep well. And when you awake in the morning, you will be five years old. You have been counting down the days, and can hardly contain your excitement for the day that is to come. I do hope that you will enjoy it as much as you intend to. I hope that, at least for the day, your frustrations can cease and you can just let your light shine and feel the blessings of the day.

Love,

Mommy