Sunday Spring-ish Journal

It was sunny today, though a bit nippy. I had on a sweater and light coat for church this morning. It rained over the weekend, but there were still tufts of snow in the corners of the yard. The slight nip in the air and the tufts of snow did not deter Steve.

He was determined to grill the first charred burgers on the block. The Weber Kettle grill was rolled out the garage. He pulled out a couple of lawn chairs, popped open a beer and read the Atlantic Monthly. He blasted music on his old boom box from college, which was banished to the garage long ago. Steve, the former Eagle Scout, carefully constructed a pyramid of coal and tended the flame for an hour. I want to switch to a gas grill, but Steve insists on charcoal. I think he really likes his hour alone hanging outside garage with the beer and listening to his alt-rock radio station.

As Steve was outside soaking up the rays on this 50 degree day in March, I was inside planning a lecture on elections, while watching Ian operate the playstation controls like a pro. Jonah was playing baseball with the neighborhood urchins.

Ian’s speech continues to improve. He answers questions very nicely now and carries on little conversations. An example from this morning:
“Ian, we have to go pick up Jonah from church school.”
“I want to go to church school, too.”
“You used to go to church school. Do you remember?” [Yeah, do you remember getting tossed out of that Catholic pre-school two years ago, because you couldn’t talk? You had just turned three at the time and you were completely mute, so I doubt it.]
“Yes.”
“You remember? What was your teacher’s name?”
“Miss Michelle.” [Oh, crap, you do remember. Do you remember getting tossed out? Do you remember me crying about it in the car? Do you remember your father and me saying all those bad things about that school right in front of you, because we assumed you were completely clueless?]

Anyhow, I’m sure your four year old talks way better than Ian does, but we just compare Ian to Ian. And for Ian, this was really great talking.

Another major improvement around here is the fact that he has completely stopped screaming. Sometimes you can only understand how bad a situation was, when you look back at it from a distance. For two years, Ian screamed all the time. He was frustrated because he couldn’t express himself. A ton of things bothered him back then, too — crowds, his shoes, long sleeve shirts, loud noises. He was always tired. Some days were so bad, that by the end of the day, I felt like I had been punched around the face and neck. I felt abused.

In the past couple of months, the screams dried up completely. Before Ian goes to bed, he asks for “mama talk.” I whisper in his ear all the great things that he did that day. Last night, I reminded him about his trip through the woods that day with his dad. I added, “I’m so proud of you. You don’t scream anymore.” He murmured, “don’t scream anymore” and rolled over to sleep.

Maybe I’m rushing the season. Like Steve, I’m celebrating Ian’s success too early. He still has a long way to go. He has years of therapy ahead of him, and we have many an ornery administrator to fight. Ah, let me enjoy the day.