Birthday 2019

Just realized it's Calder's birthday today. How can I make it a happy day for him? Restock the yogurt in my fridge. Buy organic apples and perhaps grapes or blueberries too (he's always asking for fruits). Ah yes, Yoyic cultured milk (bigger & hence more satisfying version of Vitagen) or yogurt drink. Magnum ice cream? Butter cream cake? Bring him out for dinner? He doesn't know it's his birthday and wouldn't ask for anything special - the beauty of simplicity. But many things (usually food) can delight him. Let me start by making his favourite bean soup...

Classmate

"Justus," Calder mumbled. 

Curious why he would think of this classmate, I asked, "What did Justus do?"

"No," Calder replied, "I don't know."

"Who is Justus?" I asked.

"Justus is absent. Justus is present."

"Who is Justus?" I persevered.

"God." (His favourite answer to the bedtime Bible story questions)

"Justus is God?!" I challenged.

"Yes" (Another favourite answer.)

So I decided to demonstrate:

"Justus is my classmate."

Automatically, Calder repeated after me: "Justus is my classmate."

"Who is Justus?" I asked again.

"Justus is my classmate." 

"Correct! Who is Brenda?" I ventured.

"Brenda is my classmate."

"Hah?!"

"Brenda is my - church."

I pointed at myself.

And he tried again:

"Brenda is - Mommy!"

Correct!

Slumber

The kids' bedtime are now both at 9pm. Calder, being in a special school with no tests and hardly any homework, easily makes his bedtime every day. In fact, these evenings he even watches the clock to announce "9 o'clock!" - time for bed.

For a change, today Calder slept later than his sister. This was because I wanted him to help me hang the laundry but the washing machine was not done with the clothes yet. Meanwhile, Ethel went to bed obediently - probably tired from battling PSLE  Math this morning. In the 5 mins waiting, I decided a read a library book with Calder. Of course, the book took longer than 5 mins. After that, I settled at the kitchen table to do some marking while Calder hanged the laundry with occasional prompting from me. Done with the bamboo poles, he brought piles of damp laundry to the drying rack in the living room to hang.

Suddenly he appeared before me with his damp school T-shirt. Oh, this shirt would need a hanger. But the hangers are in Ethel's room. Oops, did he barge into her bedroom? I walked from the kitchen to the living room and saw that Ethel's door was open and -- her light on! And she was sitting up on her bed looking bewildered. I quickly turned off her light and closed the door.

By this time, I had noticed Calder's  uneasy countenance. I figured he must have banged right into Ethel's room (the way he bangs any door open), turned on the light to search for hanger, but then was halted by his sister's cry of alarm. Shocked, he had then come out without the hanger, straight to me.

I explained to Calder that we shouldn't go into the bedroom when someone is asleep, that it's ok to hang the school clothes without using hangers. But then I saw him knock his knuckles hard against the rack and I knew that he had been frazzled. Thank God, the unease didn't escalate into a meltdown.

This incident showed me how different Calder is from us, that he has to be explicitly taught how to show consideration for others. It also showed me how vulnerable he is - it's so easy to faze him. But he's learning, and it's so precious - whenever he cooperates with whoever is trying to teach him something.

And now both kids are in bed and I hope both settle into restful slumber.

Will you?

What Calder may be saying,
which is why I won't give up:

I may never be as
good
as the others.
In fact, I would
fail
again and again.
Will you still love me?
Will you hold my hand?
Will you risk the trust
that even though I was not ok
yesterday,
I can be ok
today?
Will you determine to
celebrate my strengths
And forgive my weaknesses?
Again and again?
Will you persist in believing
that I can make it
one day?

Sleeping Beauty

The afternoon did not go well. Shortly after entering the bowling alley, Calder started laughing. This was not the happy giggling that sometimes comes over him, but more of force-start cackling. When I approached him to focus on the warm-up exercises, he started edging off. It's like we were like poles of a magnet - as I moved towards him, he moved the distance away, meanwhile looking like he's ready to take flight. So I got ready to do what I've started doing when he exhibits such behaviour during bowling training - get him to stand at the lockers behind (there's a nook to hide there) where he can laugh all he wants (and not run away) in between his bowling turns. But two well-meaning moms told me they'd handle him and sent me off on an hour's break. Since I can never be sure if my own methods work, I agreed to let them take over. I spent the time working on an article I was supposed to write for a newspaper. Another mom asked if Calder can stop playing for a while to teach him that he has to behave. I said ok (whatever that works, dear). When one hour was up and I returned, Calder was no longer laughing. But he had spit all over his shirt and pants and even on the common seat. The Cantonese would say at this point: "No eyes to see". Immediately, I brought him home.

I remember what a fellow parent shared at a seminar- that special-needs parents cannot be "self-centred" because if we focus on ourselves, we think our children's behaviour or performance reflects on our capability as parents and that makes us want to fix our children (instead of accepting them). Indeed, among the many dark thoughts floating around in my head, I imagined what I must have looked to the other people at the bowling alley: Tsk tsk, this parent doesn't know how to control her kid. Tsk tsk, this parent is irresponsible (where is she when her kid is creating a havoc?!). Tsk tsk, this parent cannot make it.. Which reminds me of a Bible verse that I read and remember since young:

"It is dangerous to be concerned about what others think of you, but if you trust the Lord, you are safe." Proverbs 29:25 (Good News Bible)

Back home, I got Calder to wash the spit off his clothes (first time for him) and had him revise what he'd done wrongly at the bowling alley - "I cannot laugh laugh. I cannot spit spit. I cannot run away." He had sobered up so much by then that I had no heart to scold him. In fact, I became rather confused whether he could have controlled what he did at the bowling alley.

But heaviness had descended upon me and I felt like boycotting all the tasks at hand.

The next morning, he actually gave me an amazingly sweet smile when I went into his room to wake him up. But I couldn't respond with enthusiasm - the melancholy was on me. He caught the tone of my brusque instructions and started acting strangely again - closing his eyes and freezing when he should be dressing up, and then trying to use puckered lips to turn off the light.

I felt like I wanted to sleep for a hundred years.

I usually do my devotion right after Calder gets onto his school bus. This time, I prayed, "God, speak to me. I need to hear from you."

Guess what the day's Bible reading was?

Luke 22:46 NIV:

“Why are you sleeping?” he asked them. “Get up and pray so that you will not fall into temptation.”

And in my prayer journal, I responded:

"Thank you for speaking to me, Lord. I will turn to you instead of looking inward and indulging in self-pity. Teach me what to do, how to be a good parent."

Amen.

Overflowing

Over the weekend, I saw that Calder had become very happy after he finished his lunch. Probably because his stomache had been satisfied and also because the family was sitting together, he started bubbling with giggles. And he put his hands over his ears, I believe, erroneously thinking that he could muffle his laughter that way.  After he left the table, we started talking about how, if he laughed hysterically, we wouldn't be able to bring him into Malaysia because he would have problem crossing the customs. The next thing we knew, his exuberance had turned into distress. He started crying and biting his finger and knocking his knuckles onto hard objects and wanting to stamp his foot. Ethel observed that he must have heard us talking about him and felt sad that he couldn't go Malaysia (yes, it's a grave mistake to be talking that way about him within his earshot). The next day, she reflected that he's very temperamental, switching his moods so drastically. What I saw, though, was an overflow of emotions - how happiness could become hysteria and sadness become agitation. Perhaps what causes him instability is this overspill of whatever he feels.

Hungry

A few weeks ago, Calder was on a long bus ride with me when he suddenly announced, "Urgent." My heart took a leap - it's the first time he'd verbalized his needs so clearly. In my excitement, I responded, "Oh, you're urgent. Good talking! We will be reaching soon, then you can use the toilet. Wait a while more, ok?"

Two days ago, while at the bowling alley, he leaned towards me, sought my eyes (this time unmistakably addressing me) and drawled, "Hungry." Fireworks went off in my head! And most enthusiastically, I gave him the yogurt biscuits in my bag.

Later, I wondered: Is it such a big deal - to be able to say these two words? I told my mom about "hungry" and immediately she exclaimed, "Wah, first time!"

Yup, definitely a cause for celebration.