Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Twenty Seconds


It's time for Handsome's meeting.


We're holding hands as we walk into the room.  It's time to hear what he needs.  It's time to objectively look at the reports and adjust goals accordingly.


I look at the teachers with the kind smiles.  I listen quietly as they discuss his lack of safety awareness.

They are satisfied with his progress but he needs help to continue on.  He needs help with his fine motor skills.  He needs help processing his emotions.  We need to work on his tantrums.

She's saying that he has a receptive delay.  It takes him 20 seconds to process what I said.  I feel like the teacher has punched me.  I just thought he was ignoring me but it's worse... he doesn't understand me.

I take a deep breath.  The teacher is smiling and saying that we are doing all the right things.  It's time to actively focus on potty training.  I'm excited but heartbroken.  My baby will be trained before Bugabuga, my oldest.  I take another deep breath.  I can't think of the other kids right now.  I can't think about their needs.  I have to focus.  Oh God, I can't do it. She's not trained yet.  She doesn't even care.  I can feel the emotion starting to choke me.  I want to get out of this room.  I need to leave.

I smile at the teacher.  "I'm so glad to see he is progressing so well."  She looks relieved that I am satisfied. "Let's discuss the 5%."Her smile fades.  This conversation is not going to go as easily as she had hoped.

"Physically, he has progressed to 19 months old. It's great progress." I appreciate her ability to spin this into a positive.  I leave the fact that he is 46 months old unsaid.  It's more than a two year delay.  He's physically functioning better than 5% of children his age.  The teacher is still talking but I've hit my limit.  I'm signing the papers.  I'm nodding but I'm done.

We quietly make our way home.  We walk into the house and Handsome comes running-arms extended (for balance?) I prefer to think it's for a hug.

"Hi Handsome!  How are you?  I missed you!"

He's staring at me.  I'm silently counting.


"Hi Mommy!  I missed you too!"

I give him a huge hug.  I wish I could hug his teacher.  She gave me a huge gift.  Twenty seconds.  I can help him understand.  I can wait 20 seconds.

No more frustration, just understanding.