Unseen Kindness

Yesterday all the kids had a great time: they all went out with friends, Olivia to go shopping and everyone else to go sledding.  But the great thing about it all was what I understood after they got home:

• Olivia was invited out by a girl at her school.  As you may know, Olivia is mentally handicapped, so the fact that they did this is a real testament to their character... and it provides a great memory to Olivia who is extremely happy to have gone to the ballet, to McDonald's, and shopping together with someone.
• Ella took Thomas with her because her friend has a little sister for him to play with.  That was nice to see, but what was cool for them was the kindness of her friend's mom, who fed them hot chocolate and pizza and chips.

I didn't see any of this, but that makes it all the more valuable.

The Kids Are Playing Together

We got a trampoline yesterday.  It rained this morning, and it's a bit cold, but that's not stopping the kids from playing on it.  But the greatest thing is that the three of them (Ella, Tolman, and Thomas) are all laughing and playing well together.  It's been about 15 minutes and they haven't argued yet!

It's incredibly satisfying to watch.

Fresh Air and Conversation

Yesterday was Sunday, and I planned to do some of my own thing, but I wanted to at least show a little effort at being with the kids, so I did take a bit of time with each of them.  (This is my weekly program of spending time about 30 minutes with each of them on Sunday.)  I threw a bouncy ball with Thomas, but made it short.  Then I went with Tolman out to his tree-house (actually a tree-platform right now); he likes to talk, and I mostly just listen.  I actually ended up taking half-an-hour with him; I think being outside did me some good.  Then I went in and woke up Ella who was still in bed; we talked for just a minute, and that was that.  I also sat by Olivia for a minute and we reviewed the calendar for this week since she likes to know what's going on so she can remind us ad nauseum.

I ended up getting nothing of my own done.

So I'm sitting here reminiscing, and I realized what an accomplishment that was: to have a teen do nothing but lie in bed and talk with me is something I've got to appreciate.  :-)  I don't remember many specifics, but I believe the pleasant attitude of the day will linger somewhere in our memories for a while to come.

Copycatting and Cross-Examining

This year I started saying goodbye to my kids in the morning with, "Do something great today!" It's a small thing in the morning: I'm encouaging them to actively create their reality rather than passively hope good things will happen. I'm avoiding phrases like, "Have a good day."

Well, the other day I drove Ella and Tolman to school. They opened the doors to get out of the car, and before I could say anything Ella chimed "Do something great today!"

Ella has now asked me more than once when I get home, "What did you do great today?"

A Growing Girl

Tonight Ellie came home from a party late at night. At first she didn't say much, and she went straight into her room to drop off her things. Then she came out and told us how they'd played foozball, and how we have got to get that game because it is SO much fun: there were about eight girls, so they'd each taken one of the handles and one side was BYU and the other was the U of U, and it was fun to play against each other.

The greatest thing, though, was watching Ellie talk. I can see the beginnings of a more mature young lady showing, one who has a lot of zest for life and friends and good times. Her natural beauty is more and more apparent, and it shines more brightly when she is exuberant and expressive. It was a joy to see.

Helping My Own Kids

One morning recently I helped Ellie a little bit extra with her math. She was a bit hesitant, saying it's frustrating when she doesn't understand. True. But I tried to help visualize and take small steps through the calculations of area and volume. It seemed like she understood, but whether she did or not, afterward she told me: "You're good at teaching math. You actually explain it."

Comforting a Frightened Child

Tonight Ellie was fighting Olivia about having the light on; she said she was scared of the dark, and she started balling at the thought of having it all dark. After while, she finally said, "I'm scared because of something inside, but I can't tell anyone or it'll get worse." That's a bit scary to hear from your child. So I sat by her and talked about how it's the opposite: the only way to make it better is to let it out, and if you just leave it inside it gets worse and worse. So she told me that she saw a game where a robot cut off a guy's head, and now she imagines it's coming after her. (That was sure a relief!)

I held her, and we talked a bit about when I was scared when I was little, and we talked about fighting it with fun thoughts, possibly by reading a book. Then I said something about reality, and said, "There's not really any robot coming after you." Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped and she started sobbing; she dropped down to her pillow and pulled the cover over her head, so all I could see were her eyes, looking out at me in terror.

I remember thinking during the move "The Sixth Sense" how I cannot think of anything more horrible than for a child to be subjected to scary and nasty things. And now here was Ellie, terrified by an idea that something is coming for her; I don't think I'll ever forget the look in those eyes, pleading for help while fear gripped her deep down.

I rubbed her back a minute, and I talked about good thoughts that might replace the evil ones. She talked with me, and finally came out of the covers and showed me the book she's reading, and she lit up as she described what was going on in it. She really turned around quickly, and she actually seemed content as I left her reading her book, so the bad thoughts must have been far gone.

It's a good feeling to help with something like that.

July 4th with the family

Yesterday was West Bountiful's Independence Day Celebration. Yes, it is still June, but our city does our stuff on a weekend far from the national celebration so as to avoid conflicting with everything else that happens. We're a small town in the middle of a large urban area (we still have horse property all around us!), so we have the feeling of a smaller community. I really enjoyed our little parade, carnival, and then time afterward as a family. The whole day was kind of up-and-down; there was a lot of complaining and crying and disappointment and outright boredom, but there were also a ton of smiles and mingled in our myriad of activities. I was pondering life issues this morning and I realized that it was truly a memorable day, and a fond memory at that, so it is worth recording here.

It began with our city parade. Ella and Tolman sang in the school choir, so they got to ride and sing in a float.









Thomas and Olivia seemed to really enjoy it. Olivia was up and around, cheering for the floats, and waving enthusiasticallythe whole time; between that and chasing after all the candy thrown out, it was quite the interactive event.













Then we went to the park where the first performance was the school choir. Naturally, Ella sang with all her might; Tolman sang some things, though I don't have a picture to prove it. The kids did well... for kids. But it seems to be more fun to watch what they do on stage that isn't part of the performance, especially when they're supposed to be performing.


















Of course, the kids had to go on the blow-up slides and obstacle courses; anyone who knows Olivia, Tolman, and Ellie will recognize a bit of their personalities in each of their styles.





And this is where I have to give a hand to Lynnette, because she took every one of these pictures; Thomas went down a slide, too, but we don't have a picture of it because I took him to the different one that he wanted to go on, and I don't typically take pictures. Sorry about that.












So then the cousins invited us over for swimming, just to make the day perfect. (That last picture is of Ella's legs: she's doing a handstand underwater.)















Yes, I'm skipping over the part where Thomas threw screaming fits at the park, and where I was disappointed at going swimming because I wanted a peaceful afternoon at home. But for some reason it's easy for me to forget about those parts as I consider what yesterday meant to my family. And I didn't even mention how the kids got to stay up late at the neighbor's house (yes, all the kids), or how I helped take down at the park, or how Lynnette and I put together a few bookshelves, and how we quietly watched the city's fireworks from afar on our porch.

Hm. Yep. A heck of a summer day.

Tender-hearted Children

A couple nights ago, a bird in our yard got injured by a dog. The kids were fascinated and tried to help it, and Tolman brought it home in a glove (because we've told them how dead animals can carry diseases). Unfortunately it was unable to move very well; it just sat, breathing, rarely opening it's eyes. I put it in the garage and put the kids to bed; I told them that I might have to put it down, but I would look one more time to see if it might survive. It was pretty broken up, and it seemed that it's legs were not going to work any more. I put it out of it's misery. (That was a horrible task that I hope I never, ever have to do again.)

I almost put it in the garbage, but I felt like it deserved more respect, so I buried it in the field in the back.

I went inside and told Tolman first. He was upset and started crying. He asked why, with a little bit of anger; I tried to explain about the bird being in pain and dying anyway, though I don't feel like I explained it very well. I spent a few minutes with him because he was very, very sad. He asked how I did it, and I told him.

The whole time I was talking with him, I was touched: he was extremely distraught over the loss of a small animal, one he had only known for a few moments. He valued that little life, and he deeply mourned it's passing with all his heart, even if only for a few minutes.

I then went into Ellie's room and told her. She sobbed, hard; seriously, it was like she put all her might into crying. She asked why as well, and I tried explaining again. She also asked me if I buried it; I'm so glad I was able to tell her that I did. She, too, asked how I did it; I didn't want to tell her, so I asked if she really wanted to know, and she said "no". I was surprised, but I'm so glad she had the presence of mind to say that. I would have told her if she really wanted, though I don't think it would have been good for her; I think that's something Tolman can handle better.

I spent a while with her as well; she cries over quite a few things, but it's rare that she'll cry so hard for so long. Again, I felt so gratified that the bird's life meant something to this child. I don't want too many experiences like this, but I'm so glad I went through it with them; it's so encouraging that they felt such concern for something meaningful.