Pitter Patter


If you've been reading here for awhile, you know of my love affair. I try not to let a day go by, without taking him for a spin. He's always available. He waits with anticipation, in his cozy garage, until we connect and off we go. This particular day was no different.


I was in a bit of a hurry and was thinking more of my destination than the time spent together. I turned the key, pushed the start button, shifted into 1st, and revved the engine. What was that? It sounded like he was complaining. Rattle, rattle. I revved again. It was a bit quieter. I could hardly believe what I was hearing. How could he betray me like this? We've only been together for 18 months. Isn't this still the honeymoon phase? I take such good care of him, shouldn't he be purring like a well fed cat?



Hmmm...He does sit quite low to the ground. I had hit that speed bump, in the dorm parking lot, a bit hard. I'd heard a small scrape as I passed. But what is enough to cause damage? Had I knocked something loose? I didn't have time for this! Get over your hurt feelings and let's move on-I have things to do.


I pulled out of the garage and into the street. Clunk. What was that? It sounded like a piece of metal hitting the pavement. I reversed back into the driveway. With the engine running, I opened the door to the house. "Do you hear that? It's making an awful rattling noise."




Michael suggested it might be the air conditioning. I switched it off and revved. Nope. It was still clattering. His advice was to leave my friend at home and take the Suburban. Grrr...my pride wouldn't let go.




I marched into the street to see if I could find anything. This was laying in the street.









It didn't look like anything that belonged to my car. I wondered if somehow it fell out of my car. I could think of only one place it could have been hiding. I grabbed a flashlight to make an inspection. I peered in the 1st hole. Nothing. I looked in the second. Inside it appeared as if something had fallen into the pipe. I pulled this out.







It all make sense now. A certain little boy is fascinated with cars. He also loves to figure things out. My guess is, at his height he took a look at my car. He saw two perfectly good holes and wondered what should go inside.


Sitting right there behind him were some fine looking tools that fit nicely. He must have popped them in place feeling very proud of himself. (Thanks Ethan for getting my heart racing!)

Once removed, the rattling subsided. We drove off in harmony once again.

Ethan

Graduation Day

To the gentleman (who really wasn't) sitting behind us on Graduation Day, I wanted to tell you a few things.

When we took our seats, we didn't see you sitting there behind us. You must have come in later. But surely you noticed my young grandson sitting with us. He was there before we arrived, as was the little boy in front of us. If you thought it might be a problem, why didn't you sit somewhere else? Since you didn't I can only surmise that you were either neglectful in choosing your seat, or you thought you were a member of the noise patrol.

I too am very sensitive to noise and other distractions. I find it especially difficult during church with people moving around whispering and the occasional crying child. My solution is to sit in the 1st or second pew. When I sit up front I don't miss a thing and distractions are rare.

I'm pretty confident that when you saw the movement of my grandson, that you assumed he was an undisciplined, ill-behaved child. He is tall for his age and often mistaken for a boy of 6 or 7. He will be 5 this summer. Ethan (that's my grandson,) was very patient through the ceremony. He sat in my lap for most of the first hour and a half. Yes, he squirmed a bit, but he was mostly quiet. He was very well behaved.

I'll admit, right before the graduates walked across the stage to receive their diplomas, he did get down from my lap. He interacted with each of my children, smiling and grinning at each one. Occasionally a little giggle escaped. I think it was those giggles that you found so annoying.

Maybe you couldn't tell that Ethan is a special needs child. He doesn't talk yet and his only form of communication is gestures and noise. His giggles are music to our ears, it says he is happy.

Was this graduation not a happy time for you? Were you not there,as we were, to celebrate the joyous occasion of seeing our loved ones receive a Bachelor of Arts in Ministry? These graduates are ready to begin pastoring churches. They've spent many years preparing to be ministers of the gospel. The Gospel.

I wonder what Jesus would have thought as you so loudly hissed a shuuuush. I do believe the entire sanctuary heard you. I recall another time when some men were rather annoyed with little children in their midst. A wise man said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these." Jesus. I believe He is the author of the Gospel.

And just in case you didn't know: the pastor of the very church we were celebrating in was also sitting behind us. In your same pew. He is a wise man. He once said the sweetest sound ever heard in church are the sounds of a happy, young child. I do hope our recent graduates remember the wise words of Jesus and not some angry man from their graduation.

Sleep

I need sleep, lots of it. Am I getting old? I wonder how I managed having 5 children, and the sleep deprivation that came with it. For 13 years straight, I didn't have uninterrupted sleep. Most nights I sleep 6 or 7 hours, but that doesn't seem to be enough. I look forward to Saturday mornings when I can sleep for at least 9 hours. (If you've never experienced this, I hope some day you will. For years, I doubted it would ever happen.) Occasionally, the kids have a day off during the week, and I look forward to that as another day to sleep in. (Now if I would also quit believing I get to stay up late the night before...)

Yesterday was just such a morning. I warned Michael the night before that I was sleeping in, and since it is the only time he gets up before me, I asked him to not wake me up. Apparently, he doesn't realize what a light sleeper I am. When I finally dragged myself out of bed, I was more than a bit cranky. Later, I felt terribly guilty for it. Afterall, Michael had to go into the office, so that is why he spent 20 minutes opening and closing drawers, shuffling through the closet, in-and-out of the bathroom, etc.

So why is it, that some people function just fine on little sleep, even laughing themselves silly or stay up all night just for fun?

Ethan had an EEG on Thursday, a sleep deprivation one. He was allowed to sleep from midnight until 4 a.m. My daughter was not looking forward to being sleep deprived along with him. His test began at 8 a.m. Ethan watched in a mirror, as the tech used a sharpie to draw dots all over his head. (What were we thinking? Yes, later in the day he was drawing on himself with a pen.) We could hear another overtired child crying in the next room. But Ethan was all giggles.


Being so tired, I thought he might get upset at the probes and then the wrapping of his head, but does he look like he minds? I know if I was that tired, and lying in a bed, I would not be so happy.

Once he was wired, they dimmed the lights and he cozied up to sleep. Then the strob light began flashing in his eyes. He grinned the whole time.
Once the strob light stopped, Ethan fell fast asleep. He was monitored for 10 minutes. Then he had to be woken up.

The whole time, I tried to imagine how I would feel if I had to endure this type of testing. Sleep deprivation, flashing lights, finally peaceful sleep-only to be awakened after 10 minutes. Ethan was a trooper. He awoke smiling, as if he'd had a full nights sleep. He didn't even fall back asleep on the drive home. I wish I could have his happy disposition with so little sleep.

What about those who go without sleep for fun? Last night was prom. Sarabeth attended. The after prom party began at midnight. Double-decker buses drove them around to various activities, so if the kids were tired, they weren't allowed to go home early. They had to stay up until the buses arrived back at the school at 7:30 this morning. But that is another story. I'll post pics tomorrow of prom or late today after sleeping beauty wakes up.

Open Letter

Open Letter To Ethan's Father

Because you're his father, I thought I'd share with you that I took care of Ethan for more than 14 hours on Saturday. He was so cute when he woke up. He came walking out of the bedroom in his Power Ranger pajamas, wearing his backpack, and carrying the new sticker book I'd bought him. I don't know if you realize it or not, but Ethan's been a bit off of late. The most likely reason is he's having more seizures. The medicine is not keeping them under control, but sometimes it's hard to tell.

Knowing it could be tricky keeping him entertained all day, I picked up 3 new items for when-all-else-fails-pull-out-a-suprise. He breezed through the new Power Ranger and sticker book. I had hoped the fancy new markers, that only worked on special paper, would last a little longer. I knew I was in trouble when he'd bitten the tips off of every one of them, & it wasn't even noon yet. We did have a long, fun, but exhausting day.

On Sunday, it was nice that you volunteered to take him to a movie. That is a pretty safe, easy activity. Two words of advice, though: Next time, could you provide snacks for the movie? Do you know you can actually purchase food at the theater? I realize you thought you were doing us a favor by taking him for a couple of hours. But how much easier would it be for you to get him something to eat before you came over? You had no one else to worry about but yourself. Secondly, it is most disturbing to watch you strap Ethan in his car seat, then walk back to the house to wait for the snacks to be made. My confidence in your ability to care for him wanes. Never leave him unattended.

When you returned 2 hours later, it was nice that you offered to watch Ethan while he drove his tractor. He was unhappy about having to come inside and really loves riding it. (The day before, he drove it until the battery died and had a meltdown when I plugged it in to recharge.) But there are a few things I don't quite understand.

Yes, we have a creek running on the back of our property, and it is running deep this time of year. I realize how fast Ethan can be and how quickly he can get to the water's edge. What I don't get is how he could have driven his tractor into the murkey water. You managed to pull him out, along with the water-logged tractor. You dragged them both all the way to the front of the house without ever saying anything.

Don't get me wrong. I am so grateful you were close enough to pull him out. I'm thankful his glasses were still intact. But afterwards, what were you doing? I looked out the kitchen window, where I was fixing dinner and saw you unchaining the dog. I thought Ethan looked dazed, before realizing he was dripping wet. I ran to the door and called to you, asking if Ethan was wet. All you said was yes and continued to fuss with the dog. As I rushed to Ethan, I didn't notice you were wet too. I questioned if he'd gone in the creek, and I again got an affirmative answer. I scooped up my confused & shivering grandson and hurried inside. I began removing his drenched clothing. I called to his grandpa for help.

Working quickly, we towel-dried him off and dressed him in warm clothes. Ethan's grandpa went to check on the tractor. I spoke with you afterwards. You didn't offer much information. I know your heart must have been pounding when the accident occurred. Like I said, I don't know how you were able to pull both him and the tractor out so quickly-or did you? You could have yelled for help. You could have straightaway brought Ethan into the house. But you didn't. Were you ashamed? Did you think I'd be angry or call you irresponsible? I did neither, but reassured you that it could have happened to any one of us. But I question your judgment in being more concerned with how you were perceived than in Ethan's well-being. That part I do not understand.

Ethan needs a father that can be trusted to look out for his best interest, who will keep him safe and protect him. The next time you come to pick him up, I will give thanks that he has just that kind of a father-thank-you Heavenly Father that you are the one I can trust to watch over Ethan.

Update of Sorts

Apparently, I don't recall what it is like having a 4 year old boy around the house. Okay, Ethan is a very special little boy, which sometimes means he is a bit more of a challenge than your typical 4 year old. But still.

I was up bright and early yesterday morning. I went with Christina to Children's Hospital. Ethan was having the nerves in his ears checked for hearing loss. He had to be sedated. Any procedure that has to be done at Children's seems like a huge ordeal, especially when the arrival time is 7:00a.m. I figured it'd be a 15 minute thing once he was out. But no, it was nearly 2 full hours of waiting. We found out that Ethan has pretty good hearing in his left ear, a bit of hearing loss in his right. Nothing that would cause his lack of speech. On one hand it is good news. But the other hand is left to wring itself out. I forgot how much emotional energy it takes to trust a child in the doctor's hands.

Today it was my privilege to take care of Ethan while Christina ran some errands. One small boy, sounds like a piece of cake. That is when my shortcoming kicked into gear. I forget I am getting older.

A not-very-well-liked dog woke Ethan up with her barking. I couldn't get him to eat anything for breakfast, despite my most equisite cuisine offerings. Two hours later I made him lunch. He did eat a few bites, but mostly because his grandpa was eating the same thing. I forget how picky kids can be.

I gave him a bath. While bathing, I gave him a quick haircut producing a horrendous mess in the bathroom. During my attempt to clean it up, he poured powder on his feet. (And all over the carpet.) I forget how wiggly boys are.

Then the bad Gramma remembered she'd forgotten to give Ethan his anti-seizure medication. She quickly mixed it into his leftover yogurt/oatmeal and tried to spoon it into his mouth. I have no idea how much of it went down. He swished it around until he no doubt tasted the bitterness, then proceeded to spit it down the front of his clean shirt. I'd forgotten how messy boys can be.

We played Power Rangers. We put his puppy outside, while we stayed in. I looked around the house. I decided to wait to bake cookies together. If I could just run the vaccuum and pick up some of that dog hair, then maybe we could do something fun. Ethan was playing with his new castle and watching Sesame Street, so I quickly got out the vaccuum and headed for the bathroom, then the bedrooms. Did I forget how fast he is?

I vacuumed for 5-6 minutes. I walked back to the kitchen. The refrigerator door was wide open, a carton of eggs atop the table. My instincts told me to find the kid. Looking up, I see what looks like raw egg whites coming out of his mouth. Pausing a split second to close the refrigerator door, I see an empty prescription bottle on the floor. The contents are spilled. I break into a full run to reach Ethan. It isn't egg white running from his mouth, but saliva. He is trying to remove the bitter taste from his tongue. It's been a long time since I've had to call poison control. I'd forgotten the number.

After counting pills I realized he probably only bit into one of them. The man on the phone assured me that he might get a headache, but nothing worse. Relieved I hung up the phone. I spent the next 20 minutes trying without success to get Ethan to eat or drink something so he'd quit gagging. Juice, chocolate milk,ice cream, pretzels...I'd forgotten how difficult it can be to coax a child to eat.

He had a seizure, and I felt sure it was my fault. I didn't know grandparents felt guilt the way a parent sometimes does.

His mom came home, and boy did I feel relieved. I could be just "gramma" and not the responsible adult. I'd almost forgotten how nice and fun it is to be a grandma.

The phone rang. Practice was cancelled. Hilary needed to be picked up from school. Did I mention it was snowing and we had about 6 inches already? I had not forgotten how icy the roads can be, nor how cold it no doubt was. I was taking a coat & the 4 wheel drive.

On my way out the door, I saw my refrigerator standing open again. To the right stood Ethan. He was holding an emtpy bottle of coffee creamer. He was covered in white liquid and the carpet beneath him was soaking it up too. The rest of the evening I enjoyed the delicious vanilla scent.

Imagine the joy when I finally saw this:



I'd forgotten the sweetness of a sleeping child.

The Real Puppy Story

I posted a picture of Ethan and some puppies last week. He was just visiting the mamma dog and her 10 pups. Ethan is now the proud owner of a Boxer puppy, as is his Uncle Christopher. Here are a few pictures:


Hilary with Dazee and Daphne


Sarabeth helping Ethan with Dazee


A Boy & His Dog

Thanksgiving Memories

It was my first attempt to make an entire Thanksgiving meal on my own, and my inlaws were coming to visit. I only had 2 children, but I worried how it would all come together. Preparing for houseguests was stressful enough, but compounded by a toddler that loved making messes coupled with Thanksgiving and all of the trimmings, I felt more than overwhelmed. I wanted so much to provide a comfortable, relaxed home for my inlaws, along with a delicious meal enjoyed in the company of well-behaved grandchildren.

They arrived the day before. I stayed up late that night, after everyone had gone to bed, baking pies. I must have been tired, as I didn't hear my children wake before me. How must that look to the grandparents? A mother who doesn't get up and have breakfast waiting for her children? I dressed quickly and went to the kitchen. There stood my little boy.

"Yum, yum! This is good Mommy."

He was covered in orange and was eating the middle of both pumpkin pies. This was before digital cameras, but I doubt I would have grabbed the camera. I started to cry.

Thankfully, I have the best inlaws in the world and should not have worried. In fact they probably cooked more of the dinner than I did. They were such a help and so encouraging. After that I never felt I needed to impress them. They'd had 5 kids and understood little boys enjoyed eating pumpkin pie. Somehow, when you are a grandparent you don't stress over those things. That is why when 18 years later I awoke to find Mr. Ethan eating the middles of the pumpkin pie, I grabbed my camera. I love being a grandparent!

Interruption

My unforeseen interruption came last night. I was finishing up the dishes when the phone rang. Christina was on her way to class and noticed Ethan's front tooth was missing. Normally this would be one of those memorable firsts that we grab the camera to capture a photo, but not this one. Like his Gramma, Ethan's two front teeth are not quite real. Although his look pearly white, unlike mine did when I was growing up, the backs of them are the unmistakable shiny silver variety-only one was missing. She'd put a call into the dentist and they could get him in first thing this morning. After class they would drive up and stay with us. She wouldn't have the long drive early in the morning. What I'm saying is: I'm going to the dentist with Ethan this morning, the "story" will have to wait.

After the phone call, I double-checked the calendar to make sure it was my night to pick up the girls from Poms. Yes, November 14th was my day. While driving that date stuck in my head and I remembered why. Exactly 5 years earlier on November 14th, Christina came to me to tell me the news. I was going to be a Gramma. It was quite a shock at the time, as it was totally unexpected. I don't have time to share that story either, but will direct you to an earlier post that mentions this time. Oh, and maybe I WILL take pictures of the lost tooth.

(For some reason, I cannot get just that one post to come up in the link. It brings up a whole page-maybe something to do with not switching to Beta yet? The story is "UNEXPECTED" partway down that page.) Nevermind. I will just repost it.

UNEXPECTED

Two days ago, I ran into Barnes & Noble for a last minute gift. I was sending out a Christmas package to my parents and it needed to go out that day in order to make it in time for Christmas. But I can never go into the bookstore without stopping in the children's section, or browsing through the clearance books.

I picked up a copy of Billy Crystal's "I Already Know I Love You." I read a page or two, then flipped a few more pages. Without warning, my eyes began to fill with tears. I blinked to hold them back and felt a stinging sensation. The author described the anticipation of waiting for his grandbaby, how he was looking forward to playing peek-a-boo, taking him to his first ballgame. I turned to the last page.

"I'm going to be your grandpa, and I can hardly wait."



I was not prepared for the intense emotion that welled up from within. I turned the book over. The sticker read $16.95. I can't pay that much for a book right now. But I tucked it under my arm and walked to the counter to pay.

I busied myself with watching the people waiting in line. I chuckled to myself when I saw that there was an employee at the front of the line holding a basket. She was offering chocolate candy for all who'd been standing, waiting to pay for their books. (They apparently agree with me, that chocolate should be used as a stress reliever.) As I passed, I accepted her bit of chocolate.

The day was a bit chilly, so I hurried to the car. All the way I was mentally trying to figure out what else I needed to do after going to the post office. I was a bit undone that I always and consistently leave things to the last minute. But while I was pulling out of the parking lot, tears unexpectedly began blurring my vision. I swiped at my eyes with my leather glove. Not very absorbent.

What is wrong with me? I wondered. I do not cry easily. I've never been an overly emotional person. But here I was, still crying on the way home after picking up a children's book. I normally analyze things like this. I like to know what exactly triggers such a strong emotion. When I am very busy, or under stress, I can't say that I am always in tune with feelings. I like to stuff them until a time arises that I can figure out what and why I am feeling. Then I can deal with it and move on. Right then, I didn't have time.

I pulled off my gloves, grabbed a tissue, and dried my eyes again. I tried to focus on all of the things I needed to do, but I couldn't distract myself. And what was I going to do with this book anyway? I was going to give it to my husband to give to our grandson for Christmas. The image of the two of them on Michael's riding lawn mower settled into my thoughts. I cried harder.



When our daughter announced her pregnancy, it wasn't at the best of times. She had made a stand of purity and chosen not to even date through high school. Here she was, at 20, unmarried, telling us the news.

She had friends who told her it wouldn't be convenient to have a child and that she didn't have to. But like I, she values life. We were going to be grandparents.

When I arrived home, I picked up my bag of books and went inside. I tried to put the book aside, while I packed up the box I needed to ship. But I couldn't operate with tears under the surface, still stinging my eyes. So I got the book to present to Michael. I went to him, but found I couldn't speak. I just stood there, holding this book. I opened my mouth, but the only thing that came out was tears. I waited. This was too hard. I finally blurted out, "I got this book for you to give to Ethan for Christmas. I know it was dumb, but I did." I then retreated to my room to finish the package.

Why am I such a wreck? Because I remember when my daughter was pregnant. I remembered that although we hadn't anticpated being grandparents yet, I often imagined spending time with this new little one. I imagined things like baking cookies together, laughing. I bought lots of books to read to him. I thought of the times I'd answer his questions about why, and tell him about God who created him. But I never imagined that Ethan might not understand these things, nor that there would be so many unknowns. I didn't think that at age 3 I'd still be waiting to hear him say, "gramma."

Michael came in the room. He wrapped his arms around me and I cried into his shoulder. I told him I didn't know what I was thinking when I picked up the book and that I would take it back to the store. He said no. We sat in silence. Once again I dried my tears. "Do you think I should just give it to him, or what?" He asked. "Aren't you afraid he will ruin the book?" I told him it would be ok. He could sit and read the book to Ethan. It didn't matter if Ethan didn't understand a word of it. The words were still true. We DID wait with much anticipation for his arrival. We did and still do look forward to spending time with him, teaching him new things, sharing and experiencing moments together. It is just different than what we'd imagined.

Continued

(Continued from Sunday)

At the end of horseback riding I took Ethan out for a burger and fries. As we pulled up to Carl's Junior, he excitedly began to chatter and wave his arms. It was obvious that this was one of his favorite places. Inside I wondered if I should get him the kid's meal with chicken or a cheeseburger. I asked him as I normally would and briefly listened to his chatter, trying to decifer if he was actually saying something or just making happy noises. I ordered him the burger.

We found a place to sit and I opened up his food. He immediately began munching on french fries. Sometimes Ethan needs help with his food, but tonight it looked like he was going to manage just fine. I watched him. He seemed so very pleased, grinning as he looked around. It was as if he was wanting to tell others around us, "hey look, my Gramma took me out for french fries in her car, and I just got back from horseback riding, life is good!"

I noticed him watching me eat my cheeseburger. He then proceeded to pick up his and try to hold it the same way. When I'd take a bite, so would he. I took a sip of soda. He fumbled with his burger and grasped his cup and took a drink also. Cola dripped down his chin.

"Wipe your chin Ethan." I told him as I pressed a napkin to his face. He took hold of it and rubbed it back and forth.

"Looks like that's a good dinner." One of the workers was cleaning a table nearby. "What's your name? He inquired of Ethan. Ethan looked inquisitively at him and held out his burger as if to say, "you want a bite?"

So far, I haven't found a one-size-fits-all answer when strangers begin talking to Ethan. If I say "his name is Ethan" will he continue to ask him questions, waiting for a response? Do I blurt out, "he doesn't talk." and leave it at that? Does this person already recognize that this is not your typical child and doing their best to just be friendly or are they feeling incredibly awkward right now?

"Ethan's enjoying his dinner very much," I responded. At that moment Ethan began to rattle off his own dialog of words. The young man smiled and walked away. It was time to go.

Now came the hard part. It was my duty to take Ethan to the sitter's. My daughter didn't finish class until 10 p.m. If it hadn't been a weeknight, it wouldn't have been a problem to keep him at her apartment until then. But with the 1 1/2 hour drive back home, I wouldn't get there until at least 11:30 p.m. and it would be after midnight before I crawled into bed. This would have to do.

When we arrived, Ethan did not want to get out of the car. Inside the house, he began to cry and clung to me. I waited with him for 15 minutes, hoping he would settle down. The sitter said she had never seen him so upset. I didn't realize this was his first time back at the sitters since summer break. I couldn't do it. I carried him back to the car and drove away.

I spent the next few hours playing Power Rangers with him. He seemed so happy. Yes, it was late when I got home and the next morning I was tired. But it was all worth it seeing the joy in that boy's face and hearing his happy sounds.

Great Day

I hopped in my little convertible and away I went. I questioned whether it would be wise to take my car, but I didn't have much choice. Nobody else was home, so my car would have to do.

It seemed like a long drive, but really an hour and half wasn't that bad. Besides, I enjoy driving in my car with the top down. Even on the highway at 75mph it is fun to drive. (Okay, maybe 80mph) Unfortunately, it was late in the afternoon and I hadn't anticipated the traffic, nor had I realized there would be so much construction. Since the car is not an automatic, it is much more of a challenge to read directions while driving. Something didn't seem right. I had turned off the highway going East, but the directions instructed I turn North. That is the direction I'd just come from. Was I really supposed to backtrack 6 miles??? That seemed like an extra 12 miles out of the way, but since I had no idea where I was going, I drove onward.

I checked my watch. I should have been there a half hour earlier. I was just thinking I was lost and might never get there when I saw the sign up ahead: Pikes Peak Therapeutic Riding Center. I pulled onto the dusty, dirt road.

I barely had a chance to say hello to my daughter before she had to leave. She had a class to attend. She said she'd leave the car seat by my car before her quick exit. I followed the path to the barn. Inside I saw 5 or 6 horses being led by volunteers. I searched the riders until I found him.

I knew he recognized me by the way he smiled. I think I was a distraction, because as they'd walk near the gate, he'd be looking around and not really paying attention to the instructions he was given.

An older gentleman stood nearby. He turned to me, "which one's yours?" I pointed to Ethan, "that's my grandson."

"The girl in the yellow shirt over there is my granddaughter," He spoke with such pride. I looked for the girl in yellow. At first I didn't see her. Then he continued. "She's been here since 6 this morning, so it's been a long day for her." It was almost 6 p.m. "But I've told her that she needs to give back. These kids riding the horses don't have the opportunities that she has and they need someone to help them. So she volunteers her time down here so the kids can ride.

Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't know how to respond. I wanted to thank her. I wanted to thank him for his granddaughter's service and I was guessing he gave his time too. But I just stood there, overwhelmed at the generosity of this young lady. I finally found my voice again, "we all have something to give. Even these kids on the horses give. My grandson gives so much to me." He nodded. I think he understood.

I have been given a new perspective on life.
I have been given a reminder to never take anything for granted.
I have learned that true joy comes from the most unexpected places and that love can be understood in any language or no language at all.

Therapy

My grandson, Ethan, has started horseback riding therapy. I am sure there is a more official name, but it is riding a horse. He has been very motivated and within the first few minutes began signing "walk on" to the horse since he can't say it. He doesn't have his glasses this week as he fell and broke them, but doesn't he look so very proud of himself?

I am so thankful for God's creation. Ethan loves animals and the first time he crawled was trying to reach the dog, as were his first steps. The first word he signed was "dog." I'm hoping one day he can get a service dog to be his constant companion. I know that would be heaven for him.

Glasses

Here are the new glasses! This was taken after we made cookie dough and Ethan is in the midst of devouring as much of the dough as he can before the cookies are baked.

Ethan's Glasses

Christina called me.

"Mom. Ethan has to get glasses."

"How can they tell? How do they figure out what a child needs when he can't tell them?" My curious, a bit skeptical of their accuracy, brain wants to know. I'm wondering what I would end up with if I had my eyes examined without the "which looks better, A or B questions.

"Mom, I don't want him to have to wear glasses. How am I supposed to get him to wear them?"

"Oh, I think he will like them. Remember how much he loves to put on those safety goggles?" I'm trying to be positive while walking through the grocery store talking on my cell phone. I hadn't noticed the pain in her voice.

"I really didn't want him to have to wear glasses. Why can't Ethan get a break? He doesn't need one more reason for people to stare at him." I suddenly realized what she was saying and could hear tears in her quivering voice. "Not very many 3 year olds wear glasses. When they do, people stare. I just want him to look cute so he is more accepted.

I stopped walking. I didn't have an answer. I'm standing in the middle of the grocery store with tears welling up in my eyes. I want to hug my daughter. I want to hold my grandson and make things better. I know wearing glasses isn't the end of the world. I want to tell my daughter the plus side of the glasses, that Ethan will enjoy life more. We won't see him crossing his eyes when he tries to focus. But at that moment she isn't looking for answers. She just needs someone to hear what she is feeling and to understand. When there are no words, communicating via telephone falls drastically short. So I stand there hugging my phone, with no words coming out. I hope she understands the meaning.

Grandkids are the best!

I've always loved kids, and always wanted a houseful. (My house seems to be so empty these days-only 3 here full time.) On the weekend Christina (my oldest) and my 3 year old grandson are usually here. They didn't come down this week, so Michael and I decided to take my new car for a spin. (Good excuse to go visit.)

Ethan was so excited to see us. What a wonderful feeling to be on the other side of that excitement. I love him every bit as much as any of my own children, but without the responsibility of training him up. I don't have to worry whether or not he will be spoiled if he gets a cookie, or even if he says please and thank-you. I can just enjoy him.

I forgot my camera, but got a couple of pics with my phone. (Hence the poor quality.) But you can probably see from Ethan's expression how much fun he had riding in Gramma's new car with Grandpa and playing at the park.

Cookies

Ethan and I made cookies! Before Ethan was born I'd imagined baking cookies with him. It just seems like a grandmotherly thing to do. Last week with Christina sick, I was running out of things to do with him. When he doesn't have something to do, he finds things to do. His favorite is putting things in the toilet, or pulling the toilet paper out until it is gone. I caught him with an open bottle of nail polish with the brush end (and some polish) in his mouth. I was ever so thankful it wasn't on the carpet, but it wasn't fun getting it off of his face and chest. (Or off of my hands and arms when I was finished cleaning him up.)

I needed to make cookies for my kids' lunches, so Ethan and I did. While on the phone recently with Christina, she had been making cookies with him, so I thought we'd give it a try.

Ethan loved stirring, but wasn't too happy that I helped. He did a great job pouring in the flour, vanilla, and chocolate chips. It was a proud gramma moment.

I took a bit of dough out, rolled it, and placed it on the pan. He stood over the dough, spoon in hand watching. As I reached to make the second one, he bent over to cover the bowl. I took some dough out. He began protesting immediately. He then curled himself over the bowl trying to hide it from me. He took his spoon and scooped a big blob of dough, all the while hunched over, and began to consume it as quickly as he could. I had to sneak dough out to make the rest of the cookies. At one point he began yelling at me and nothing I could do would convince him it was a good thing to make cookies. I had so much fun and hope Ethan did too. I know he sure did enjoy eating the dough. I don't think anyone noticed anything extra in the cookies, lol. In fact, Hilary said they were the best she'd ever had. Way-to-go Ethan! Here are a couple of pics. I couldn't get him to look up from that bowl for anything.

A New Stroller

Ethan finally has his new stroller. Technically it is called a Push Chair. It is similar to a wheelchair except that it can't be pushed by the rider. The wheels aren't big enough for that. No more carrying him from the car or trying to drag him into the store. Here is a not-so-good picture of him in it:



My teens were not as excited about it. They think it looks too much like a wheelchair, which shouts "Special Needs" or "Disabled." They want people to know him as Ethan, not a kid with labels. It will be interesting to see if people react to him differently than when he was in a typical stroller. Will others be more patient with him when he is playing in the mall play area and doesn't interact or respond like the other children? Will they look past his meltdowns and not comment how tragic it is that his parents haven't taught him how to behave? Or will they merely view him as different and look away, not acknowledging him at all? In dealing with our own inadequacies of not knowing what to do, we often do nothing. We're afraid of offending someone so we say nothing at all. I posted about my own shortcomings. My hope is others can learn and grow the same way we are-by being confronted with different, causing us to step out of our comfort zone.

UPDATE Christina took Ethan to the mall today. When she got home, she said she was shocked at how people reacted to her pushing Ethan in his new chair. She said instead of people smiling at him, talking to him, or commenting that he had cute, curly hair, she said they would turn their heads and look away when they saw him coming. Sad.

Grandmother

I post on several message boards. On one of them, all the rage are these fancy "grandmother" signatures. I don't have a single really decent photo of Ethan from recently. (Mostly, because I can't get him to stay still long enough for them not to blur.) But I tried playing around with one from his first winter. I forgot how adorable he was as a baby.



After I got so hyped up about the Football game yesterday, I got to missing Ethan. Because we'd been out of town the weekend before, I hadn't seen him for nearly 14 days. And it would be another 5 at least before I'd see him. Plus, I talked to my daughter and he'd been at the Emergency Room on Thursday. He has pneumonia again. So instead of watching the game (good choice-guess who lost?) I drove 90 miles to see that sweet boy. He was so happy and just wanted to sit in my lap. Only got to stay a few hours before I had to get home, but I was so glad I had gone. I hated leaving. Ethan started crying and trying to pull me back to the couch to sit with him. I cried at least the first 20 miles home.

Oh, and here is a not too particularly good pic of Michael and I, but figured it was about time we started taking more pics together.

UNEXPECTED

Two days ago, I ran into Barnes & Noble for a last minute gift. I was sending out a Christmas package to my parents and it needed to go out that day in order to make it in time for Christmas. But I can never go into the bookstore without stopping in the children's section, or browsing through the clearance books.

I picked up a copy of Billy Crystal's "I Already Know I Love You." I read a page or two, then flipped a few more pages. Without warning, my eyes began to fill with tears. I blinked to hold them back and felt a stinging sensation. The author described the anticipation of waiting for his grandbaby, how he was looking forward to playing peek-a-boo, taking him to his first ballgame. I turned to the last page.

"I'm going to be your grandpa, and I can hardly wait."



I was not prepared for the intense emotion that welled up from within. I turned the book over. The sticker read $16.95. I can't pay that much for a book right now. But I tucked it under my arm and walked to the counter to pay.

I busied myself with watching the people waiting in line. I chuckled to myself when I saw that there was an employee at the front of the line holding a basket. She was offering chocolate candy for all who'd been standing, waiting to pay for their books. (They apparently agree with me, that chocolate should be used as a stress reliever.) As I passed, I accepted her bit of chocolate.

The day was a bit chilly, so I hurried to the car. All the way I was mentally trying to figure out what else I needed to do after going to the post office. I was a bit undone that I always and consistently leave things to the last minute. But while I was pulling out of the parking lot, tears unexpectedly began blurring my vision. I swiped at my eyes with my leather glove. Not very absorbent.

What is wrong with me? I wondered. I do not cry easily. I've never been an overly emotional person. But here I was, still crying on the way home after picking up a children's book. I normally analyze things like this. I like to know what exactly triggers such a strong emotion. When I am very busy, or under stress, I can't say that I am always in tune with feelings. I like to stuff them until a time arises that I can figure out what and why I am feeling. Then I can deal with it and move on. Right then, I didn't have time.

I pulled off my gloves, grabbed a tissue, and dried my eyes again. I tried to focus on all of the things I needed to do, but I couldn't distract myself. And what was I going to do with this book anyway? I was going to give it to my husband to give to our grandson for Christmas. The image of the two of them on Michael's riding lawn mower settled into my thoughts. I cried harder.



When our daughter announced her pregnancy, it wasn't at the best of times. She had made a stand of purity and chosen not to even date through high school. Here she was, at 20, unmarried, telling us the news.

She had friends who told her it wouldn't be convenient to have a child and that she didn't have to. But like I, she values life. We were going to be grandparents.

When I arrived home, I picked up my bag of books and went inside. I tried to put the book aside, while I packed up the box I needed to ship. But I couldn't operate with tears under the surface, still stinging my eyes. So I got the book to present to Michael. I went to him, but found I couldn't speak. I just stood there, holding this book. I opened my mouth, but the only thing that came out was tears. I waited. This was too hard. I finally blurted out, "I got this book for you to give to Ethan for Christmas. I know it was dumb, but I did." I then retreated to my room to finish the package.

Why am I such a wreck? Because I remember when my daughter was pregnant. I remembered that although we hadn't anticpated being grandparents yet, I often imagined spending time with this new little one. I imagined things like baking cookies together, laughing. I bought lots of books to read to him. I thought of the times I'd answer his questions about why, and tell him about God who created him. But I never imagined that Ethan might not understand these things, nor that there would be so many unknowns. I didn't think that at age 3 I'd still be waiting to hear him say, "gramma."

Michael came in the room. He wrapped his arms around me and I cried into his shoulder. I told him I didn't know what I was thinking when I picked up the book and that I would take it back to the store. He said no. We sat in silence. Once again I dried my tears. "Do you think I should just give it to him, or what?" He asked. "Aren't you afraid he will ruin the book?" I told him it would be ok. He could sit and read the book to Ethan. It didn't matter if Ethan didn't understand a word of it. The words were still true. We DID wait with much anticipation for his arrival. We did and still do look forward to spending time with him, teaching him new things, sharing and experiencing moments together. It is just different than what we'd imagined.

Overwhelmed

Sitting in church yesterday, I was overwhelmed once again at God's plan of salvation. Meditating on how much was accomplished at the cross, how much he gave and provided for us, and how we can have a relationship with the Father because of this gift.

But while sitting there amazed at this incredible gift, another thought crept into my head. What if Ethan is never able to grasp this simple truth? Will he ever understand how much the Father loves him? Although we are born into sin, God sent Jesus to pay the penalty for that sin so a relationship with the Father can be restored, we can be forgiven. What if Ethan goes through life never knowing?

Tears began to flow. This just cannot be...but what if? And then, it was as if I could see the Father reach down with a smile across His loving face. He cradled a little child in his arms and began singing to him. It was a love song as the Father gently rocked.

I know that when a baby dies they are swept away to heaven. (Even those yet to be born.) I believe that we are not held accountable until the age of accountability. I do not know what that magical age is, because all of my children seemed to comprehend the simple truth before they were 6.

It's possible that Ethan may never reach this age of accountability no matter what age he becomes. But the Father in heaven will still take him up as a little child and hold him. At that time, Ethan will know. He will understand how very much he is loved.

"But Jesus said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not forbid them; for of such is the kingdom of heaven." (Matt. 19:14) 10/31/05