58. The Watcher

Occasionally we let Sean play just outside the door on the side of our house. There was a sidewalk there too that went alongside the house. We could watch him from the double windows as he traipsed up and down the walkway. He liked to play with dirt there, and since there was an empty lot next to us, there was plenty of good old dusty Texas dirt.

One afternoon Sean was playing outside when I felt a sense of urgency. I didn't hear a noise or anything, it was just a feeling - not good, not bad. It was just a, "you'd better go see" sense.

I swung the door open and Sean stood up. He looked at me with a non-reactionary expression, but then I noticed his feet fidgeting. I also noticed his left fist was clenched shut, so I hurriedly pried it open. About ten or more fire ants scurried out. I began slapping them off of him and stomping the ground. He didn't make a sound. I pulled him inside to check his hands and body. Not a single bite!

Sean had apparently noticed the fine dirt of a small developing ant bed and began sifting it. I doubt he even noticed the ants. If he had been bitten, I doubt he would have reacted. I had to constantly be his reaction; therefore, I had to constantly observe. I learned the most when he wasn't looking.

"You can observe a lot just by watching."
~ Yogi Berra

57. Mr. Sandman

Sean played with sand a lot. He always swept it into his hand, then close his fist and release a little at a time while watching it fall. One day Savannah called us out to the driveway to show us Sean's Sandman. We were shocked and very impressed they he stopped stimming long enough to make an image. Sean was ultra proud of it too. 

56. The Gift

There is no major reason to mention that Savannah was one of two white girls in the predominately Hispanic classroom except to explain that she just didn't fit in that well. She didn't really pay attention to skin color anyway, but I was hoping no one else did either. As a matter of fact, I remember when she was in second grade she described her classmate as, "that girl with the dark skin". I remember thinking, that could be anyone in her class.

Being the over protective mom that I am, I was concerned that Savannah was being bullied even though she never indicated so. I knew that bullying could be a problem in any school, and I was afraid for my children.

One day Savannah came home with a book she got from the Scholastic Book Fair. I had given her money to get Sean one because she wanted to surprise him with a book, but she didn't come home with it. I asked her why and she said, "Elyse took it".

Hold me back!

The next morning I went to Savannah's classroom and explained that I wanted to speak with Elyse about taking Savannah's book. The teacher allowed me to do so. I walked over to darling Elyse who was sitting in her desk. I knelt down, so we were eye level with each other. I said,

"Hi Elyse. I'm Savannah's mom. Savannah bought a book for her brother yesterday at the book fair. She said she let you look at it, and that you didn't give it back. Do you have the book?"

"No."

"Do you know where it is?"

"No" (with a little bit of attitude)

The whole class was watching so I had to be cool. I calmly said:

"I see. Savannah, Elyse said she doesn't have the book, and she doesn't know where it is."

Savannah nodded while daggers were shooting out of my eyes. I said:

"I guess you'll have to get your little brother another book because the one you bought as a gift for him was taken by 'somebody'. Even though I believe you, we can't prove that Elyse took it because there are no witnesses. Okay, Honey?"

Savannah nodded.

I stood up to walk away when I saw Elyse lift her desktop. She pulled out the book that Savannah had bought for Sean. She handed it to me and I said, "Thank you, Elyse". I told Savannah goodbye and walked out.

I never mentioned it again.

55. "Sweet Dreams, Sarah"

Savannah drew so much that we could have wallpapered every room in the house with her drawings. I decided to make small books to keep them organized. She couldn't have been happier!

The End!

54. Neighborly Love

We had an alley-like street in the back of our house. Mary and Abbie, a couple in their sixties, often sat on their tiny back porch in the late afternoon. They watched Sean play with the hose on our driveway. We would turn on the hose just a little, so he could watch the water spread down the concrete. It eventually made a puddle at the end of it. Somehow, we figured it was a safe place for Sean to play alone for minutes at a time because the road was seldom traveled. Mr. Abbie brought it to our attention that when cars did come down that alley, they were fast. Thinking back, Sean should have never been unsupervised. Thankfully nothing happened but the what ifs are disturbing to me now. I allowed him to play outside because there was peace and quiet inside. I took my chances. We checked on him very regularly, but Mr. Abbie picked up our slack.

Mary was a support as well. I think she could tell we all were struggling. I'm sure our fights made the bricks shift as well as invite the neighbors to listen in whether they wanted to or not. We could rock it out.

One weekend my husband went out of town on business leaving me with the children for about a week. It was in the summer, so we were together a-l-l d-a-y l-o-n-g. I'm not sure what was up with Sean but he was unusually difficult. It began on Saturday afternoon when I was watching TV. Sean was in my lap in the recliner. I was tickling him and goofing off. We played for awhile until I'd had enough. I tried to  transition him smoothly and redirect him. He kept jumping on me over and over again. I'd hold my arms out to prevent him getting on me, but he kept on. I got up to walk, but he was hanging onto my legs. I'd sit down to hold him some more, but he was jarring his knees into my stomach and laughing. He picked at my hair and face too. This went on for awhile. Finally, I just lost it and everything escalated from there. I couldn't get things settled down completely. Sean was up and down all afternoon.

By this time it was late in the afternoon. Finally, I went to my car that was parked in the driveway, and tossed Sean in it. I stood outside of it, and stared at Mary and Abbie's back door. I prayed with all my heart that Mary would come out. I stared at that door with every bit of belief that it would open. I kept repeating, "Come out, come out, come out." I don't know why I didn't just knock on it. I had not yet learned how to ask for help. The door opened, and Mary came out. I was crying but quiet. I was beaten down and resigned. I took a step toward her to ask if I could talk to her. She came over and listened. She was reassuring and confident in God's will. I was thankful that my prayer was answered but I was not so confident.

The next morning Sean was at it again. I put in an emergency call to Dr. Seals in San Antonio who ultimately increased his Prozac. Even though the medication hadn't had time to take effect, I was relieved that help was on the way. I had a focal point again. We also had an appointment. We went to a nearby city in The Valley to see Dr. Seals at a hospital there. When we got there, they said he had called in sick. I burst into tears and kept saying, "nonononono". I collected myself and walked out with nothing.

Through this I realized that when help was slow to come I had to be prepared to hold on by telling myself that it was coming. I had to learn to ask for help in a timely manner. I had to work on my confidence.