M is for...

Math.

Why is math scary to so many people?  If you think about it, it would make more sense to be scared of words, than of math.  Words can be tricky, but math is steadfast and absolute.  The only time most people run into trouble is when you mix words and math – remember those story problems?  Logic doesn't enter into fear, though, and math can be mighty scary to me!

Neither of my two older kids had any real issues with math.  Good thing, since their mother is practically phobic about it.  I did fine until junior high – Mr. T, sitting behind his desk with his newspaper, probably dreaming about retirement, wasn’t very helpful for those of us who felt a bit insecure.

Apparently I’m not as dumb about it as I feel; sometimes, the most startling equations just appear in my head, as when I’m working on a building project or planning a major modification in a knitting project.  But then it’s not math, see, it’s building or knitting.

The two youngest kids are having middle-school-math-growing-pains.  Me, too.  One spent the entire first year of middle school in tears over math homework every day.  One said, on more than one occasion, “I don’t need any help; I just don’t know how to do it!”  (What?)  The hardest part is teaching the kids that if they don’t actually learn to solve what is in front of them, they cannot move on to the next step.

So, have I gotten over my fear of math?  No, in fact there are still times when, if I look at a problem in the book or on a worksheet, I feel a bit of anxiety and have to take myself sternly in hand.  After all, if I don’t approach it calmly, none of us will get through it successfully.  We’re fortunate that daughter Carey lives next door, as she has a great talent for teaching math and can stay calm and matter-of-fact when things are a bit tense.  We have more tools available to help, too – Girlie learned how to use her scientific calculator within a couple days and explained it to me, and quite a lot of our school math is available in an interactive online platform.  Very, very helpful.  If all else fails, Google is my trusty friend.  I don’t know what we’re going to do when we get to high school math…

One of my biggest math challenges in knitting was figuring out how to make a large sphere for a ‘balloon ball’.  It’s a fabric sphere with a small hole in one end.  You insert most of a balloon, inflate ‘til it fills up the sphere, tie it off, and tuck the knot into the fabric.  It makes a great, light-weight, indoor-safe play ball and the balloon, protected by the fabric, can last weeks.  To knit one, I had to figure out the rate of increase, how long to knit evenly, and mirrored decreases.  There are plenty of patterns available now for similar items, or even Christmas ornaments that could be enlarged, but I was pretty pleased with myself – I did the math.

L is for...

Limitations.

We all have them.  The difficulty lies not only in recognizing them, but in respecting them.

Sometimes, limits are meant to be pushed.  Often, that is how growth is encouraged and realized.  Putting ourselves or our children just a little bit out of the comfort zone to master a newly emerging skill enables us to either celebrate success or learn where more work is needed.

Other times, there are limits that must be respected.  Those of us with chronic physical conditions have to heed our limitations and work within them to stay healthy and safe.  Children with emotional challenges present special circumstances, because it can be especially difficult deciding which limits to push – including when and how hard – and which to leave in place. 

Girlie is sensitive to loud noises; she always has been.  In primary school, the cafeteria was torture, and eventually the staff learned there were days when it was better to let her eat in the office.  Before a scheduled fire drill, someone would get her out of class and take her for a walk outside.  By the time she was in elementary school, she was able to deal with those situations better, but would be emotionally fragile the rest of the day.  We spent years dealing with nightly hysteria around the Fourth of July.  Now, she can tolerate fireworks displays when she can see them, but the fireworks for days before and after Independence Day, when folks are having fireworks in our rural area, wear her out.  The surprise explosions keep her in hyper-startle mode for days.

She is in middle school now, and learning to advocate for herself.  Although she is still stressed or fearful in noisy surroundings or by some sounds in particular, she can often talk her way through it.  Did I get that?  No; in fact, what with those expectations I keep referring to, it’s taken me far too long to understand that Girlie really doesn’t want to go see the latest show (dark theater and surround-sound at maximum volume, anyone?) and is much happier waiting for the DVD.  She gets it.  She doesn’t want to go to the school concerts, and why didn’t I realize that the reason she was chattering all during the introductions is because she was about to get hysterical when the music started?  She gets it.  No matter how much she admires the beautiful costumes, she doesn’t want to go to the ballet and be surrounded by crashing applause.  She gets it.  Finally, thankfully, Mom gets it, too.

In knitting, the only real limitations we have are those we impose upon ourselves.  Once we’re comfortable with a few basic stitches, we have the building blocks for pretty much any pattern.  Eventually, though, I realized it’s better for me to recognize what I need from knitting, not just what I want.  Although I love the look of beautiful stranded fairisle colorwork, I don’t want to deal with multiple yarns and a pattern that needs my full attention every minute.  Even though I enjoy the occasional cable and really admire traditional Aran sweaters, I can’t see myself getting much pleasure out of the process.  I became a much happier knitter when I limited my knitting to my comfort zone, even if I do still look wistfully through the pattern books.  Maybe someday, but right now, I’ll just let the yarn do the work.

'Waving Not Drowning' Pattern by Violet Green knitted with Sockotta Striped Effect Yarn

K is for...

Kid gloves.

As in, the kind one might wear when handling delicate situations.  Children who are anxious can be cranky, uptight, belligerent, and downright rude.  Neurotypical kids will usually acknowledge ‘the line’ and not cross it; challenged kids may not recognize the presence of a line at all.  One can feel the explosive energy in the air at our house, sometimes, and it’s almost as if one incendiary word would blow the lid off.  It takes a lot of energy to not only figure out the source of the anxiety (and sometimes we just can’t), but to maintain a calm and soothing atmosphere as much as possible.

The truth is, I don’t always have that kind of energy, so sometimes we all go down in flames.  All the books we read about raising children with challenges – no matter how much they vary on some points – will give this piece of wisdom: you must take care of yourself.  You must take care of yourself.  The problem is, parents of kids with challenges often find difficulty in arranging time for self-care.

In our family, we have learned to capitalize on moments of respite.  I can walk out to get the mail – that’s good for a few deep breaths.  I can go out to the chicken coop and fulfill whatever small needs the hens may have.  In the summer, I might go around to the garden and pluck a few raspberries or pull a few weeds.  Probably the most important thing Dearest and I have established as a couple is a firm bedtime for the kids, ensuring we have quiet time together in the evening to watch a movie (and knit!) or sit and read (and knit!) together.

As our two have gotten older we are practicing more independence by leaving them home alone, but that, too, is handled with ‘kid gloves’.  We rarely leave the two kids together and we make sure our oldest daughter, who lives next door, is home.  An hour is still the limit.  Having been a model Helicopter Mom for several years I can tell you this transition is difficult, but so very necessary for all concerned. 

'Kid gloves' are also good for keeping 'kid hands' warm, but gloves can make zippers and buttons difficult to manage.  Our kiddos (including the big ones!) like the fingerless gloves or handwarmers I’ve knitted.  There are plenty of free patterns on Ravelry, but once you’ve knitted a couple you get the basic idea and can turn it into mindless, meditative knitting.  Perfect for knitting in the evening after a day of putting out fires.

J is for...

Judicious: having, showing, or done with good judgment or sense.

Full disclosure – I have a bag of tricks that include incentive, encouragement, and metaphors.  These are very complicated techniques that may sometimes appear to be bribery, manipulation, and lies.  All used judiciously, and always for the purpose of achieving a positive outcome as often as possible.

For instance, it would be to no one’s benefit for Girlie to be told there is no Santa Claus.  She’s 13; I don’t know for sure what she believes in her heart, but we aren’t saying anything one way or the other.  When she called Dearest and I together the other evening and tearfully voiced her concerns that she and her brother were on the Naughty List, I did not rush to tell her there was no such thing.  Dearest and I said we didn’t think there was anything to worry about; on the contrary, she and her brother have done pretty well lately, and as long as she keeps doing her best, she’ll be fine.  I believe she felt placated, and we didn’t once mention Santa’s name.

Mealtimes are often fraught with tension.  I struggle with it, but dinner is my least favorite meal of the day, in many ways.  There is no such thing as cooking a meal and putting it on the table for all to enjoy, unless it’s half pepperoni, half Hawaiian pizza.  There either has to be separate foods (something from Girlie’s very short list) or we have to prepare ourselves for conflict.  This is where I most often use incentive and encouragement, and if my teeth are gritted behind my smile it’s better than someone stomping away from the table in a huff (and yes, it’s been me on occasion).  Since Girlie is so underweight we can’t just let her refuse to eat; unlike a neurotypical child, she won’t give in and eat when she gets hungry. 

I try, every day, to make sure there is something she likes or at least has a grudging willingness to eat if covered with enough ketchup.  Girlie has mastered the avoidance technique by engaging someone – anyone – in conversation to avoid eating foods she doesn’t like.  She’s a slow eater, too, and will often be at the table for over an hour while Boyo is waiting to watch a bit of television, which we can’t do while Girlie is at the table because she’ll sit with food on her half-raised fork and never get it to her mouth.  Yes, we have some regrets about establishing a ‘habit’ of dessert, but desperate times call for desperate measures!

Do our techniques always work?  No – in fact, something that probably started off as avoiding a conversation about the Easter Bunny almost ended in what would likely have been a 5^th grade social disaster.  I can’t remember how it morphed into a legendary tale, but it involved Jackalopes, a favorite 'symbol' of the West in my family.  Boyo was sitting at the computer one day last spring and we were discussing eggs, because he was working on his science fair project.  Somehow, past conversations had completely transformed in his head; it seems he was looking for information on whether the Jackalopes had antlers because they were guardians of Easter eggs.  Whoops…

My knitted, felted Jackalope bag - with a (Jackalope?) antler button!  :-)

I is for...

Incredible.

In-cred’-i-ble: 

1) too extraordinary and improbable to be believed 

2) amazing, extraordinary

Our experiences raising children with challenges have been incredible.  Read the definitions carefully, and use your imagination.  This word can encompass the horror one might feel to witness an eighteen-month-old whose tantrums are so violent his forehead has bloody scabs from banging it repeatedly against a wall.  The mortification when hearing an enraged three-year-old threaten to kill a family member with scissors and knives.  The frustration with a child who has never, not once, slept through the night. The revulsion upon discovering a five year old can ‘paint’ most of a room with feces.  The heartache when a child is so frustrated and angry she screams that she should just kill herself.

The extraordinary revelation, when hope is nearly gone, that there is still hope.  The amazing moments that we hold onto with every bit of strength we can muster to get through those bleak, dark times.

Smiling through my tears at the picture drawn of Mommy with ‘your hair, your eyes, your mouth, and your kiss that I gave you.’  Listening incredulously to a child who can’t remember how to read when the page is turned (because the words are not in the same context), have a breakthrough and suddenly begin reading fluently, page after page, while sitting on a stool in the kitchen reading aloud to Mommy.  Proudly watching a kindergartener play a lively, ‘two-hand’ piece of piano music at the kindergarten talent show.  Realizing the footsteps running through the house at night are going back the way they came, and the child has put himself back to bed for the first time in six years.  Witnessing a girl who has never gotten up willingly in the morning, now getting up independently at 5:00 a.m. – in the dark – to take the puppy out.  Being complimented about a boy who is focused and intent on ballet.

Do we ever really let our guard down?  No.  In fact, we had a gut-wrenching breakdown just last week.  But we didn’t feel hopeless; only tired and, for a while, a bit sad.  We know, now, that every ‘incredible’ experience we go through gives us a lesson from which to learn or a gift for our hearts to treasure.

Knitting has been an incredible tool for me, and Dearest has noticed I have an increased capacity to deal with our experiences more calmly since I started knitting.  There isn’t anything very incredible about my knitting in and of itself, though – certainly not in comparison to this!

This is an extraordinary art installation by Ben Cuevas, and you can see more amazing photos and read about it here.

H is for...

Hush.

I talk too much.  I’m working on changing that, but it's been this way for as long as I can remember.  I want there to be a full explanation, a complete answer, for everything.

When I was little, it seemed no one had the time or the inclination to answer my questions with much besides, “Because.”  I’m pretty sure I did my older kids a disservice by answering their questions ad nauseam, but that did have an amusing result at least once: their stepmother reported a conversation in the backseat when the kids were four and six years old that involved detailed differences between evergreen and deciduous trees.  In most cases, though, I just went on and on – taking away from them the opportunity to investigate and discover.  Fortunately, I wasn’t the only person parenting them, and they had plenty of folks, like Dearest, who would counter their questions with, “What do you think?”

More and more we have the ability to find answers instantly, because someone else has already done the research, already done the investigation, already done the work.  It isn’t much of a challenge to look up anything imaginable and get a fairly accurate hit on the first try.  Do I think we should discourage the kids from going to the internet for their answers?  No, in fact I think it’s better than going to Mom, asking the question, and getting an answer with no effort at all.  At least, when one looks up something on the internet, one has to phrase the search term in a way that will generate relevant answers.  One has to think.  In this house we still have plenty of books, too, and we use them frequently; especially to look up birds, trees, and bugs.

If asking questions is the best way to learn, then giving easy answers will take away part of the process, and eliminate the need to put forth any effort.  Pretty soon we might end up with children who haven’t learned how to learn.  Sometimes, the best answer is an expectant silence, and I should just hush.

My favorite time to knit is in the evening after everyone has gone to bed.  I don’t have the television on, or music.  Sometimes I listen to an audio book, but usually I just knit in the hush of a sleepy house.  One of my favorite things I’ve completed recently is a sleepy bunny for my newest grandson’s first Christmas.  Shhhh… it’s a secret...  :-)

Schaefer Yarn Company free pattern here

G is for...

Grandchildren

My first grandchild was born when the two youngest kids were 8 and 6.  The very first problem we experienced was the anxiety that manifested when a kiddo decided that since I became a grandma it must mean I am very old and, therefore, soon to die.  Not so far-fetched, in his mind, because my children lost two grandparents within a few months; but they'd been in their seventies and eighties.  That one took a little extra help from our counselor, but it finally got sorted.  Mostly.  He hardly ever asks if Dad or I will die soon.

Counter to everything I imagined, Girlie showed very little interest in the new baby.  It shouldn’t have been such a surprise; after all, she had absolutely no interest in dolls, either.  Still, there were those expectations, again!

Fast forward a few years: surprises are in store when you spend time with neurotypical toddlers and preschoolers after having such an intense time with challenged children!  Some of those surprises were for Dearest, who had very little experience with small children, other than our own two; but most have been for me. 

A particularly poignant example was when my oldest daughter had an emergency and asked me to watch her 3 ½ year old.  I was sorry to tell her I couldn’t; it was the day of Boyo’s birthday celebration at school and I was taking treats to his class.  Almost as soon as I hung up the phone, I had a startling realization: I could take Madee with me, and she could help pass out napkins to Boyo’s classmates.  Doesn’t that sound simple?  Shouldn’t that have been my first thought?  No, in fact, my first thought was that it would be impossible to take a 3-year-old into a situation like that without expecting disaster, because that’s how it would have been when Girlie and Boyo were three; Girlie would not have been physically capable of passing out napkins and instead been screaming and trying to take ice cream away from 4^th graders.  Boyo would have run away unless a large and immovable guard was posted at the door. 

I called Carey right back and explained my faulty reasoning, and that I’d be happy to take Madee with me.  She felt like such a big girl passing out the napkins, and Boyo felt proud to show off being an uncle to his classmates.  That was a pivotal day for me.  Making assumptions about a child’s behavior based on a different child’s behavior – whether one expects the child to be higher functioning or lower functioning than his or her ability – is limiting to everyone involved.

On to knitting!  I’m lucky to have 'littles' living so close – grandchild number five was born a month ago and has been dressed in handknits from both his mama and I right from the very start.  Here is a photo worth much more than a thousand words.  ♥

Thanks for the photo, Rhondi!