Thrive

Somewhere in the paper files that are Connor's history is a diagnostic sheet of paper, on which a health-care provider had written the words, "failure to thrive."

As a stay-at-home mom, I have chosen to sacrifice such things as big paychecks and performance reviews. But life has taken on a new sort of performance review, and it's through my children. So being told your child is failure to anything is like a jab through the heart, a demotion, a pay cut and anything else that could suggest you aren't succeeding as a parent.

Not that I could totally disagree with the diagnosis. He had a kidney disorder that prevented him from growing, and had to be on medication for a year-and-a-half until the kidneys decided to fully function on their own. At age 2, he wasn't speaking or communicating really at all. He was locked in his own world in pretty much every way. And I was terrified that we'd never find the magic key to unlock his autistic door.

So imagine, if you will, what it was like to sit at his 3rd-grade parent teacher conference a few weeks ago and have his teacher call him "a delight," and say his 4 main strengths are "reading, being respectful, being kind to everyone around him, and loving to learn." I would say we have blasted failure to thrive into oblivion. Which is right where it belongs.

We can chalk it up to a whole bunch of factors: therapies, preschool, extra support in elementary school, some great teachers, and simply maturing and growing up. Connor's brain just has to figure out what to do and then do it - and he always manages to find a way to make that happen. And maybe to some small extent Brian and I, as his parents, have helped him. There certainly are things we do wrong, but hopefully some things we have done right. This parenting stuff sure doesn't come with "do-this-and-things-will-be-perfect" instructions. So we bump along.

I was in the school shortly after his glowing conference, and ran into the music teacher, who's been the music teacher for Connor's entire elementary school career. Thus, this is the 4th year she has taught him. Imagine the change she has seen. She stopped me in the hall (I was walking with the children) and exuberantly said, "Do you know how proud I am of your son? I am just bursting with joy over the progress he has made! He used to not participate, and now he sings, moves, everything!" I got misty - because that's how I roll - and told her she's making a mama melt, then kissed him on the cheek; she asked me to kiss the other cheek for her. And don't you for one second think I didn't just soak up that moment.

It doesn't mean we are free from struggle (is any of us, ever?). He is so literal that he prefers non-fiction books and has a bit of a struggle with fiction reading comprehension, so we try to work on this. He often prefers to be alone at recess, a fact that has troubled me until his 3rd grade teacher pointed out that he interacts beautifully in the classroom and contributes much, and if he prefers some down time at recess, why should it matter? Light bulb went on for me. Yes. He is CAPABLE of interaction. If he CHOOSES times he'd rather be on his own, it's OK. This I have fought against for years, and have now accepted. That's how he rolls. We have much to learn from one another.

Last week he brought home this seemingly out-of-the-blue note from last year's teacher. You know how you can have a string of really great effective teachers but there are always a couple who will be miles above the rest? That's Mrs. Randolph. I still miss her.

Isabel's parent-teacher conference was great, too. She has taken to school like my hair to humidity. Thriving. Her teacher said she is incredibly fun, an awesome girl, and already ready for 1st grade because she already knows everything she'll be "learning" in kindergarten. She is one of the top 3 readers in her class. Her teacher told us that she can already see that Isabel is the type of student who will always excel and do well because she loves school and learning and likes to please her teachers. Yep and yep. I was pleased when her teacher told us that she plans to pull Isabel and two or three other students for challenge time each day to build upon her skills and keep her challenged and from "treading water all year." She loves school; every project she does is the most exciting ever, each homework is the best homework assignment ever, her friends are the most fun ever, you get the idea. That's how she rolls.

Today she was bursting with excitement at having received this reading certificate, the first in her class to do (along with Nate and one other boy; at least she goes for the smart ones). They were rewarded with a recognition trip to the principal's office to select a new pencil.

And Lucas loves preschool. His teacher said he is a good, well-behaved boy. He has already learned so much, and each morning asks if it is preschool day. I love watching his early reading skills emerge as he practices his letter sounds and has taken an interest in how to spells things, what words mean, and the like. I have to keep reminding myself that he will start kindergarten in 10 months! He's had some fun field trips, made some new friends, loved the projects he's created. He's kinda my down-the-middle sort of child. Kind, confident, helpful, thoughtful, laid-back and easy-going unless his temper flares. He takes things at his own pace. Because that's how he rolls.

So there we have it. Thriving. Each of them, in their own ways. Doesn't mean they're without fault, or the best at everything. Doesn't mean they don't have their own challenges. But to me, it does mean that they are happy for the most part and advancing and contributing in positive ways to their worlds. A more rewarding experience I have not known.

Can I please get a raise?