The transition to full day school was made less difficult by Robby's
wonderful classroom teacher. Robby and I both instantly felt a
connection to her. She has been able to strike the precarious balance
between being kind and patient while still maintaining high expectations
for her students. She makes learning fun, and Robby loves nothing more
than earning her accolades.
She has demonstrated that
her skills are not limited to her students. I fully admit that I was as
nervous, if not more so, on Robby's first day of school. Within the
first few minutes she managed to calm my fears about the transition.
Let's face it, dealing with my worrying ways is no easy feat!
As
the year has progressed, my positive feelings about his teacher have
continued to grow. When Robby was ill with Dengue Fever and couldn't
receive visitors, she stopped by in the evening and left a package of
letters from his classmates, a gift, and a balloon by the front door. I
didn't even know that she had been to the house until she phoned on her
way out of the development to tell me about the delivery. She emailed
daily to check on his progress and, yet again, proved her stripes by
keeping my worries about his academics in check.
Since
Robby returned to school he has been "invited" to stay inside his
classroom during his second recess. While his classmates are running
around on the playground, Robby quietly reads with his teacher,
practices his arithmetic and finishes worksheets.The quiet time has been
a godsend as a means both to reserve his strength and to allow him to
catch up academically.
I never imagined that Robby
staying inside with his teacher would be the source of controversy.
Unfortunately I consistently underestimate the petty nature of some
individuals! Yesterday morning I dropped Robby off at school and
inadvertently stepped into a meeting between the school administrators
and Robby's teacher. I was surprised when I learned that Robby staying
inside during recess was the topic.
Apparently a
classmate complained to her father that Robby was receiving preferential
treatment from the teacher. Rather than ask the teacher, the parent
took it upon himself to skip protocol and called the administrators to
file a complaint. Keep in mind, this whole controversy could have been
avoided if common sense had been employed. After all, in an effort to
avoid miscommunication and rumors, all the parents of Robby's classmates
were informed when Robby was diagnosed with Dengue Fever. This parent
knew how ill Robby was and that he had missed a lot of school. It
certainly wouldn't be hard to conclude that he was staying inside to
catch up on school work? Rather than ask and learn, the adult whined and
complained.
Once
the Administrators were reminded of Robby's absences and his stamina
issues, they agreed that our recess decision was appropriate. In the
same breath, his teacher was also forbidden to keep him inside during
this time for fear of "hurting" the other students' feelings. Only in a
school could this logic be used to make opposite decisions during one
meeting!
I do not want to jeopardize his teacher's
standing at her school, so I am begrudgingly going to abide by the
dictate. I will go to his school every afternoon and work with him
myself. It is a mixed blessing that the whiner parent is uninvolved in
the classroom.
While I feel badly for his child, I know that my only interaction will
occur when we happen to pass in the hall as he drops off his child in
the morning!
About Me
- Peggy
- I am a below knee amputee. More importantly, I am also Mommy to two boys, a very active 10 year old (Robby) and an mischievous toddler (Timmy). I have learned that being a parent with a disability can create some unusual and sometimes humorous situations. This blogger is available for hire! Let's talk and learn how a blog can expand your business.
Wednesday, January 09, 2013
Tuesday, January 08, 2013
Return to Normal
Robby's recovery from Dengue Fever has been steady and strong.
Although he is not where we would like him to be (he continues to
fatigue quickly and has difficulty concentrating), he improving at an
impressive pace. Last night Robby achieved yet another health milestone
in his march back toward wellness.
After much contemplation about his strength and endurance, Scott and I agreed that Robby could resume ice skating lessons. He has been chomping at the bit to skate since his fever broke. Waiting has been difficult for him, but last night his patience finally paid off. We bundled him up and took him to the rink.
Scott was nervous about his falling. I was apprehensive about the activity sapping his strength and causing a setback. Robby's only care was making sure we arrived early so that he could have maximum ice time. I guess we need to take a cue from the six year old and learn to relax!
Wearing his snowsuit and sporting his new skates, he was grinning ear to ear as he stepped onto the ice. Robby had a blast skating and his giggles were heard across the rink. Dutiful parents, Scott and I hovered at the edge, shivering in the cold and ready to leap on the ice at the first sign of a struggle or fatigue.
It turns out that Robby only needed us to help him take off his skates, drive him home and carry him into the house as he fell asleep during the 10 minute drive. Skating certainly tuckered him out, but he was able to fully participate in the lesson. Last week he would not have been able to skate for the entire time, so I have no doubt that his strength is returning.
After being so ill, I'm struck by how difficult it is letting Robby resume his normal activities. I feel like a mother bird, hovering and trying to protect her injured little chick. Although I'm delighted that Robby is getting better and doesn't need me as much, letting him return to his "pre-Dengue" life is scary for me. I worry about him overdoing it, becoming worn out and susceptible to other maladies. I'll try to tame the urge, but this Momom bird wants to hover and to protect. Who would have thought it would be this hard letting him resume his activities!
After much contemplation about his strength and endurance, Scott and I agreed that Robby could resume ice skating lessons. He has been chomping at the bit to skate since his fever broke. Waiting has been difficult for him, but last night his patience finally paid off. We bundled him up and took him to the rink.
Scott was nervous about his falling. I was apprehensive about the activity sapping his strength and causing a setback. Robby's only care was making sure we arrived early so that he could have maximum ice time. I guess we need to take a cue from the six year old and learn to relax!
Wearing his snowsuit and sporting his new skates, he was grinning ear to ear as he stepped onto the ice. Robby had a blast skating and his giggles were heard across the rink. Dutiful parents, Scott and I hovered at the edge, shivering in the cold and ready to leap on the ice at the first sign of a struggle or fatigue.
It turns out that Robby only needed us to help him take off his skates, drive him home and carry him into the house as he fell asleep during the 10 minute drive. Skating certainly tuckered him out, but he was able to fully participate in the lesson. Last week he would not have been able to skate for the entire time, so I have no doubt that his strength is returning.
After being so ill, I'm struck by how difficult it is letting Robby resume his normal activities. I feel like a mother bird, hovering and trying to protect her injured little chick. Although I'm delighted that Robby is getting better and doesn't need me as much, letting him return to his "pre-Dengue" life is scary for me. I worry about him overdoing it, becoming worn out and susceptible to other maladies. I'll try to tame the urge, but this Momom bird wants to hover and to protect. Who would have thought it would be this hard letting him resume his activities!
Monday, January 07, 2013
Procrastination Kitchen
Since we moved into this house 8 years ago, there has been a lengthy
"I need to fix" list that Scott and I occasionally ponder tackling. We
mean well, but life intervenes and other priorities take precedent. I
think when you live with something every day, the little imperfections
that others view as odd simply become part of your normal routine and
are easily overlooked for years
In order to use our
microwave oven, we had to open and shut the door quickly at least five
times before pressing start. If we didn't open and close the door
rapidly, or if we failed to do it for the required five cycles, the
timer would simply count down without the appliance providing any
microwave power. I stumbled upon the trick of five and, since it worked
every time, we became used to the OCD like routine every time we wanted
to heat something.
To guests in our home I'm sure it looked peculiar, but because the microwave continued to function with this idiosyncrasy, we never prioritized buying a new one. Last week our microwave passed away completely, forcing us to finally buy a replacement. Eager to use the shiny new appliance, Robby was the first one to put in a box of pizza rolls to give it a try. He excitedly put the box in the center of the microwave, pressed the keypad for 3 minutes, and- opened and closed the door five times. We actually had to explain to him that the new microwave will work without opening the door multiple times because the nonsensical routine was all he had known.
My Mom's refrigerator never closes correctly after the turkey is supported on the bottom shelf before Thanksgiving. From November through July, we have to kick the bottom of the refrigerator door in order for it to seal. Sometime in midsummer the shelf resumes its normal shape and the door does not need to be kicked to be closed. Of course, we are all so accustomed to kicking the door that we all do it anyway, regardless of the month. I'm sure when she finally does buy a new refrigerator, all of her grandchildren will continue to kick the door simply because that is what you do at Nana's house.
For the past four years I've had a large, ugly and completely broken slide-in range sitting in the corner of my kitchen. The only function of the range was to hold papers, potholders and all of the knickknacks that seem to accumulate in a kitchen. When the range broke, I immediately wanted to remove it and and convert the space to a comfortable eat-in area. Of course, life intervened and we never quite got around to it. Instead the range simply sat, collecting more junk and becoming an increasing eye sore.
A few months ago during one of my semi-regular coffee breaks with Mr. Bill, I mentioned wanting to get rid of the range. I explained that I have stools that have sat in the garage for years waiting to be used but that I need to get rid of the broken appliance first. He quietly listened and agreed that an eat-in space would be ideal in my kitchen. I vowed to call a junk removal company to get rid of the appliance so that I could finally have the kitchen that I've wanted.
Despite my good intentions, I never got around to calling. Mr. Bill asked me about the range when he stopped by on Friday, and I was embarrassed to admit that I still haven't made arrangements. Deciding to take the bull by the horn, Saturday morning Mr. Bill showed up at our house with his hand truck and some ropes. Within 30 minutes, he and Scott removed the ugly old range, put it into his pick-up truck and drove it to the dump.
I was as excited as Robby on Christmas morning when the space was finally cleared. I spent the afternoon cleaning and rearranging. I not only had room for the stools, but the butcher block which only fit in the dining room because of the range now fits perfectly in the kitchen!
In one afternoon with the help of a wonderful neighbor and friend, we were able to create the kitchen I have always wanted. Robby has already claimed a stool as his own and loves sitting at the counter reading while I cook. I can't believe it took us four years to finally get rid of the broken appliance and build a functional and comfortable kitchen.
We really need to stop procrastinating. I think I'll make a list of everything that we should be doing while I sit in the new and improved kitchen. By the time Robby goes to college we might actually be unpacked from our move into this house!
To guests in our home I'm sure it looked peculiar, but because the microwave continued to function with this idiosyncrasy, we never prioritized buying a new one. Last week our microwave passed away completely, forcing us to finally buy a replacement. Eager to use the shiny new appliance, Robby was the first one to put in a box of pizza rolls to give it a try. He excitedly put the box in the center of the microwave, pressed the keypad for 3 minutes, and- opened and closed the door five times. We actually had to explain to him that the new microwave will work without opening the door multiple times because the nonsensical routine was all he had known.
My Mom's refrigerator never closes correctly after the turkey is supported on the bottom shelf before Thanksgiving. From November through July, we have to kick the bottom of the refrigerator door in order for it to seal. Sometime in midsummer the shelf resumes its normal shape and the door does not need to be kicked to be closed. Of course, we are all so accustomed to kicking the door that we all do it anyway, regardless of the month. I'm sure when she finally does buy a new refrigerator, all of her grandchildren will continue to kick the door simply because that is what you do at Nana's house.
For the past four years I've had a large, ugly and completely broken slide-in range sitting in the corner of my kitchen. The only function of the range was to hold papers, potholders and all of the knickknacks that seem to accumulate in a kitchen. When the range broke, I immediately wanted to remove it and and convert the space to a comfortable eat-in area. Of course, life intervened and we never quite got around to it. Instead the range simply sat, collecting more junk and becoming an increasing eye sore.
A few months ago during one of my semi-regular coffee breaks with Mr. Bill, I mentioned wanting to get rid of the range. I explained that I have stools that have sat in the garage for years waiting to be used but that I need to get rid of the broken appliance first. He quietly listened and agreed that an eat-in space would be ideal in my kitchen. I vowed to call a junk removal company to get rid of the appliance so that I could finally have the kitchen that I've wanted.
Despite my good intentions, I never got around to calling. Mr. Bill asked me about the range when he stopped by on Friday, and I was embarrassed to admit that I still haven't made arrangements. Deciding to take the bull by the horn, Saturday morning Mr. Bill showed up at our house with his hand truck and some ropes. Within 30 minutes, he and Scott removed the ugly old range, put it into his pick-up truck and drove it to the dump.
I was as excited as Robby on Christmas morning when the space was finally cleared. I spent the afternoon cleaning and rearranging. I not only had room for the stools, but the butcher block which only fit in the dining room because of the range now fits perfectly in the kitchen!
In one afternoon with the help of a wonderful neighbor and friend, we were able to create the kitchen I have always wanted. Robby has already claimed a stool as his own and loves sitting at the counter reading while I cook. I can't believe it took us four years to finally get rid of the broken appliance and build a functional and comfortable kitchen.
We really need to stop procrastinating. I think I'll make a list of everything that we should be doing while I sit in the new and improved kitchen. By the time Robby goes to college we might actually be unpacked from our move into this house!
Friday, January 04, 2013
Growing Up... or Growing Old?
I heard about a study the other day which claims to have pinpointed
the age at which individuals finally feel like they have reached
adulthood. The judicial branch considers adulthood to be 18. Bars and
liquor stores insist upon 21 as the legal age. According to the authors
of the study, most people finally feel grown up when they are 28.
I am married with a child. I own a house and I work to pay bills and to help support the family. It's strange that despite these adult responsibilities, I can't fully grasp the concept that I am grown up. In my mind, I am still a youngster finding her way. I have moments where I catch myself in the mirror and see my mother's reflection. It is hard for me to wrap my head around the concept that I'm an adult. I'm not a young adult. I'm not just starting out and learning the ropes. I'm a full-fledged adult. When did that happen?
Of course, every morning my body reminds me that I'm not a spring chicken. Waking up when I was in my 20's, I would be alarmed when something hurt. Now that I'm nearing my 40's, it is no longer a question of whether or not something will be stiff or sore. Inevitably, it has become a game as I try to guess which part of my body is going to angry when I wake up.
In another 40 years I'll probably just be grateful for the pain because its presence will signal that I made it through another night. But for right now, the morning aches and pains are an unwelcome nuisance. I've realized that my morning internal dialog has switched from "zippidy doo da" to "crap this hurts."
Last week my knee was so stiff it took me awhile to ease into my prosthetic. Then I woke up with a sore neck. Yesterday I woke up and my right shoulder blade was aching. All of these maladies developed while I was sleeping. Apparently one of the skills I am acquiring as I age is the ability to injure myself while unconscious.
The disconnect between my mind and my body seems to be growing. While I don't feel like I'm middle aged, my body certainly disagrees. I must file a formal protest against this whole "growing up" process. After all, these growing old pains are becoming bothersome!
I am married with a child. I own a house and I work to pay bills and to help support the family. It's strange that despite these adult responsibilities, I can't fully grasp the concept that I am grown up. In my mind, I am still a youngster finding her way. I have moments where I catch myself in the mirror and see my mother's reflection. It is hard for me to wrap my head around the concept that I'm an adult. I'm not a young adult. I'm not just starting out and learning the ropes. I'm a full-fledged adult. When did that happen?
Of course, every morning my body reminds me that I'm not a spring chicken. Waking up when I was in my 20's, I would be alarmed when something hurt. Now that I'm nearing my 40's, it is no longer a question of whether or not something will be stiff or sore. Inevitably, it has become a game as I try to guess which part of my body is going to angry when I wake up.
In another 40 years I'll probably just be grateful for the pain because its presence will signal that I made it through another night. But for right now, the morning aches and pains are an unwelcome nuisance. I've realized that my morning internal dialog has switched from "zippidy doo da" to "crap this hurts."
Last week my knee was so stiff it took me awhile to ease into my prosthetic. Then I woke up with a sore neck. Yesterday I woke up and my right shoulder blade was aching. All of these maladies developed while I was sleeping. Apparently one of the skills I am acquiring as I age is the ability to injure myself while unconscious.
The disconnect between my mind and my body seems to be growing. While I don't feel like I'm middle aged, my body certainly disagrees. I must file a formal protest against this whole "growing up" process. After all, these growing old pains are becoming bothersome!
Thursday, January 03, 2013
A New Friend
Frequently I receive an email or a phone call from a new amputee who
is seeking support, information or just to talk. Regardless of what is
going on in my own life, I always try to make time to lend an ear and to
try to help. Remembering the isolation and confusion that I felt when I
became an amputee keeps outreach a high priority in my life.
Normally, geography limits the communications to email, to the telephone and to Skype. Every once in awhile I'm able to physically meet with the individual which always helps to forge a special relationship. Tuesday night, at the precise moment I was trying to figure out what I was going to do with my day while the boys were at school, I received a phone call from a social worker who works in a local hospital. With one simple question, "Will you be able to come and meet with her?" my plans for the day were solidified.
Although I always find it rewarding to be able to help somebody, peer visits can be emotionally draining. I am the first to admit that I wear my emotions on my sleeve. As much as I tell myself not to become emotionally invested and simply to be a resource, I always end up worrying, fretting about and grieving for my new friend.
Preparing for the hospital visit yesterday I knew that it was going to be a difficult meeting. Every amputee has a story, but some wreak of heartache more than others. Miranda's story broke my heart, and I worried that I would not be able to help.
Miranda was walking across the street at about 4:00 in the evening on New Year's Eve. Her only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was struck by a driver who reportedly blew 2x the legal limit. A tragic story in its own right, but it more heartbreaking when I learned Miranda's age: she is only 14 years old!
Dealing with an amputation is difficult regardless of age. For teenagers who are already struggling with body image issues and trying to fit into the world, suddenly being different must feel utterly catastrophic. I doubted that I, a middle aged woman, possessed the ability to be able to help, but I knew that I was going to try.
I spent about two hours sitting with Miranda. At first our meeting was formal and uncomfortable, I suspect we were both too nervous to be comfortable. At one point she needed the nurse's call button to request more pain medication. Instead of getting up, I instinctively popped off my leg and used it to pull down the button to her reach. She giggled and smiled, and the conversation became more natural and the began to flow naturally.
I left the hospital feeling uplifted after spending time with such an amazing young lady. I know that the journey will not be easy, but I have no doubt that she'll be okay. I made a new young friend yesterday and, although I hate the circumstances surrounding our meeting, getting to know her was a great way to start my new year.
Normally, geography limits the communications to email, to the telephone and to Skype. Every once in awhile I'm able to physically meet with the individual which always helps to forge a special relationship. Tuesday night, at the precise moment I was trying to figure out what I was going to do with my day while the boys were at school, I received a phone call from a social worker who works in a local hospital. With one simple question, "Will you be able to come and meet with her?" my plans for the day were solidified.
Although I always find it rewarding to be able to help somebody, peer visits can be emotionally draining. I am the first to admit that I wear my emotions on my sleeve. As much as I tell myself not to become emotionally invested and simply to be a resource, I always end up worrying, fretting about and grieving for my new friend.
Preparing for the hospital visit yesterday I knew that it was going to be a difficult meeting. Every amputee has a story, but some wreak of heartache more than others. Miranda's story broke my heart, and I worried that I would not be able to help.
Miranda was walking across the street at about 4:00 in the evening on New Year's Eve. Her only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. She was struck by a driver who reportedly blew 2x the legal limit. A tragic story in its own right, but it more heartbreaking when I learned Miranda's age: she is only 14 years old!
Dealing with an amputation is difficult regardless of age. For teenagers who are already struggling with body image issues and trying to fit into the world, suddenly being different must feel utterly catastrophic. I doubted that I, a middle aged woman, possessed the ability to be able to help, but I knew that I was going to try.
I spent about two hours sitting with Miranda. At first our meeting was formal and uncomfortable, I suspect we were both too nervous to be comfortable. At one point she needed the nurse's call button to request more pain medication. Instead of getting up, I instinctively popped off my leg and used it to pull down the button to her reach. She giggled and smiled, and the conversation became more natural and the began to flow naturally.
I left the hospital feeling uplifted after spending time with such an amazing young lady. I know that the journey will not be easy, but I have no doubt that she'll be okay. I made a new young friend yesterday and, although I hate the circumstances surrounding our meeting, getting to know her was a great way to start my new year.
Wednesday, January 02, 2013
Tranquility
Scott was excited on the last Friday before his winter vacation,
anticipating nearly two weeks of sleeping in and no work. Robby
experienced the same excitement on Christmas morning when he discovered
the treasures that Santa left him. This morning, it's my turn!
Although I've enjoyed having both boys home from school, I have to admit that I'm feeling a girlish excitement at the prospect of their vacation ending. Between the cruise, Robby's Dengue Fever and the holidays, my comfortable and highly functional routine was shattered. As much as I love adventure and the unplanned road trip, I've come to realize that I need structure as well.
I am ready to put this bah-humbug season behind me. The tree has already been undecorated and thrown in the woods. The only traces of Christmas left in my house lie with the presents that were received and the half-roll of Santa paper towels on my kitchen counter. Putting everything away and reclaiming the living room felt wonderful!
This afternoon the house will be quiet for the first time in two weeks. I'm going to be able to curl up on the sofa, surround myself with my notebooks and work without being interrupted to play Lincoln Logs or to look at a replay on ESPN. I never thought I would be this excited about the prospect of solitude.
I know that both boys will be deflated and, well, just plain whiny this morning as they get dressed for another school day. I anticipate a lot of complaining as I shoo them both out of the door. I'm going to try to keep my enthusiasm in check until I drop Robby at school. It's a good thing that my legs are healed because I'm not sure I'll be able to control my urge to skip out of the building in celebration.
My gleeful anticipation is unexpected. Just a few short months ago I was crying, lamenting Robby going to school full days and worrying about how to spend my time. I suppose that this change is called personal growth? In any case, who would have thought that a few hours of quiet would be this cherished!
Although I've enjoyed having both boys home from school, I have to admit that I'm feeling a girlish excitement at the prospect of their vacation ending. Between the cruise, Robby's Dengue Fever and the holidays, my comfortable and highly functional routine was shattered. As much as I love adventure and the unplanned road trip, I've come to realize that I need structure as well.
I am ready to put this bah-humbug season behind me. The tree has already been undecorated and thrown in the woods. The only traces of Christmas left in my house lie with the presents that were received and the half-roll of Santa paper towels on my kitchen counter. Putting everything away and reclaiming the living room felt wonderful!
This afternoon the house will be quiet for the first time in two weeks. I'm going to be able to curl up on the sofa, surround myself with my notebooks and work without being interrupted to play Lincoln Logs or to look at a replay on ESPN. I never thought I would be this excited about the prospect of solitude.
I know that both boys will be deflated and, well, just plain whiny this morning as they get dressed for another school day. I anticipate a lot of complaining as I shoo them both out of the door. I'm going to try to keep my enthusiasm in check until I drop Robby at school. It's a good thing that my legs are healed because I'm not sure I'll be able to control my urge to skip out of the building in celebration.
My gleeful anticipation is unexpected. Just a few short months ago I was crying, lamenting Robby going to school full days and worrying about how to spend my time. I suppose that this change is called personal growth? In any case, who would have thought that a few hours of quiet would be this cherished!
Tuesday, January 01, 2013
My Year in Review
AmputeeMommy-- 2012
JANUARY
On a warm January afternoon, Robby and I went on a nature hike. We encountered a skunk den. The angry skunk sprayed everything, including my prosthetic.
FEBRUARY
MARCH
Robby and I traveled into DC to film a PSA for the Amputee Coalition. He certainly does love being on camera!
APRIL
MAY
Like a scene from The Hunger Games, I survived a tracker jacker attack.
Robby turned 6 and we celebrated with an "epic party."
JUNE
In June Robby started swim lessons.
We went to Baltimore for the Star Spangled Sailabration!
We went to Ohio to visit Grandma and she took us to her special fishing hole. Robby caught a LOT of fish.
JULY
In July we went to Dutch Wonderland. Robby and Daddy had a blast on the rides. I got sick and vomited in the Men's room.
I did enjoy the slide though!
Scooter bought a scooter!
We built a pool...
and it collapsed...
And then we learned How to Train a Dragon.
AUGUST
In August my Mom had a double knee replacement. I moved into her house for several weeks. Robby and I took full advantage of a vacation at Nana's.
We had fun, but he was happy to see his Daddy!
SEPTEMBER
In September my little guy started school... Thankfully Mr. Bill was there to cheer him on and hold my hand when I cried on the first day!
He loves his teacher!
And we even found time to pick pumpkins, peanuts and apples.
OCTOBER
We survived the hurricane in October. We helped Mr. Bill rebuild his fence after a tree fell on it.
NOVEMBER
DECEMBER
In December we went on a cruise!
He lost his first tooth...
and survived his first tropical disease.
Thank you for being part of this amazing year. I'm looking forward to another year of adventures, changes and unexpected twists.
Whatever happens in 2013, you can rest assured that it'll be in the blog!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)