Nov 26 2008
Don Hammonds / Nov. 26, 2008
"Puh-ple!"
That word came out loud and clear from my 2-year-old the other day; Aidan and I were absolutely overjoyed.
You see, Aidan is one of our four special needs children, and from the day that my partner Joseph and I brought him home from the hospital, he has had special challenges to overcome.
Not long before this much-awaited outburst from Aidan, he finally began to respond to music with dancing. We were in the Whole Foods store here, waiting in line when the song "Save the Last Dance For Me" blared on the radio. He perked up and started rocking, and I joined in, and there we were, dancing in line at the store to the laughter and smiles of people around us.
It was a wondrous, happy thing for both of us. Joey and I had been trying to get him to respond to music and dancing since he came home for the first time, because we know how important music, stimulation, rhythm and touch are to infants and toddlers. Besides, music and dancing are an important part of our lives and we wanted Aidan to be able to enjoy both.
But every time we tried, he'd get furious with us, and one time he gave a loud yowl and whacked me. So that little moment in the store was one that I'll cherish forever.
When you have a child who has special needs, every small accomplishment or victory is one to be celebrated and remembered.
Thankfully, except for his speech delay and some vision problems, Aidan's a normal, happy, gorgeous kid. His brown eyes and his incredibly straight, thick strawberry blond hair and brown eyes make him look like Andy Warhol. When he gets his glasses, the resemblance will be even more pronounced.
But close monitoring will continue. I know that some of my child's behaviors suggest he may have some issues down the line. Probably he will be just fine - but you never know.
We have a team of doctors and nurses in place who carefully monitor our children's development, and if anything is noticed, we instantly seek specialized services, including many that are offered with in-home care and therapy.
There's not a moment that goes by when I'm not thankful and grateful that I live in Pittsburgh. The array of services and programs in this town are nothing short of stunning.
And Children's Hospital of Pittsburgh? I'm not sure where we'd be without them. One of our other children has a seizure disorder, and we've been there so often that we are now on first-name basis with so many of the people there.
When my 4-year-old was a tiny baby and had a seizure, rather than making him sleep alone in his bed, they allowed him to snuggle up next to me and sleep at night on one of the chairs that converted into a bed. They knew how important it was for him to have my comforting, my touch and my soft singing to him as he slept - and how much I needed to hold him at the time.
And I have to say something about the hospital's Family Care Connections program. They've provided wonderful in-home services, monitoring, special activities, training for parents, and for our 4-year-old, a Montessori preschool. My son's development has skyrocketed since being in their program.
There are things that I've learned from raising four special needs children. Some of these may prove helpful to others:
First, be prepared to fight - and fight hard for your child. It took us many meetings, days worth of research on curriculum and heaven knows what else to get an individual education plan written for our 12-year-old. And he's now a straight A student looking to go into law someday.
We've spent many a night on the Internet doing research, finding tips, programs, books and all kinds of tools for our children.
Often, special medications are needed, and not all pharmacies have them. Then there are times that insurance companies don't want to cooperate. Life has become one battle after another.
Look for support groups that can help you. You can't do it alone. And commiserating with others who are going through what you are experiencing can help you, reassure you, and make you realize you're not crazy for feeling some of the things that you do.
Next, try to find some agency or service that can walk you through the maze of programs, therapies and offerings that are here in Pittsburgh. If you don't know where to start, call a hospital social worker or any of the local adoption agencies to get started.
But perhaps most important, be good to yourself - and to your spouse if you have one. The tensions and fatigue that build up can really damage a relationship if you aren't careful.
We have a baby-sitting cooperative, so Saturday nights are reserved for Joey and me. Hugs, snuggling on the couch after the kids go to bed, and just being together are so terribly important to any relationship, but especially one in which you are caring for children with special needs.
All in all, though, I wouldn't trade my life with my incredible kids for anything in the world. I love them dearly and deeply, and they all know that daddy's here for them when they need me.
Read the complete post at http://pittsburghmom.com/blogs/burghdad/archive/2008/11/26/the-joys-of-special-needs-children.aspx
Nov 26 2008
I said good-bye to my kids at the door, then went to the window and watched them walk to the car.
My son - long, gangly and incredibly teenager-ish at 14 - walked to the passenger side. My daughter - 17 now, but in my mind's eye still my little baby girl - walked to the driver's side.
They got in. The car backed out. I waved, and saw my son's hand through the window. Then they pulled up the road and were gone.
"How was THAT for ya?" my wife asked.
"Bizarre," I said. "Truly bizarre."
Those two kids disappearing up the road were four and 18 months when my first wife and I separated.
In the dozen years since, I have moved no less than six times, struggling to balance work, the desire for a social life for myself and the desire to have a home with them.
In the dozen years since, I've had three different jobs, each successive one offering me more money but taking me farther away.
In the dozen years since, I've had a number of relationships, inconsequential at first but leading eventually to a second marriage. And my marriage, for all its wonders, brought my kids more changes - two step-brothers, a step-mother, a new baby brother and a host of things competing for Dad's attention.
In a way, time in the car was one constant through all those years and all those changes.
One of the first things I started doing with them was driving into Pittsburgh for church on Sundays - an hour each way. I'd pick them up to stay with me on weekends, drop them back off at weekend's end - even when I lived an hour away. Once a week I'd pick them up and go to Burger King (it had a play zone) or to my parents' house. Then I'd drive them back.
We always had fun. We'd play the alphabet game, "I spy," other word games. As they got older, we started singing, doing harmony to church songs. And we talked - goodness, we talked! Both of them to this day remark about how much that time in the car, the three of us, has meant to them over the years.
In fact, time in the car has been probably more than just a constant - it is like a symbol of my commitment to fatherhood, an assurance. No matter the circumstances, they knew that I would be there, would get them, would take them with me, that I would travel to the ends of the earth for them. And as long as we were together we were, in a way, home.
And then poof! It was gone. They were off in the car, by themselves, without me. My commitment was no longer necessary. My symbolism was drained of its force. No longer was it about me coming to them; now they could come to me - or not. The power shifted; an era ended.
Which is OK, of course. Eras are supposed to end. Our kids are supposed to leave us. And they're not supposed to understand the depths we feel, the true meaning of our commitment - it would suffocate them if they did.
But it's not like we have to like it.
"It really is nice not to have to drive," I told my wife, still standing at the window. I imagined my kids in that car, talking, laughing, feeling the same kind of freedom and power I felt at the same age.
My wife put a hand on my shoulder.
"They'll be back," she said.
In some ways, yes, they will. But in some ways no, they won't.
Brian David/Nov. 26, 2008
Read the complete post at http://pittsburghmom.com/blogs/burghdad/archive/2008/11/26/watching-them-drive-away.aspx
Nov 17 2008
Mackenzie Carpenter| Nov. 17 2008
When I was a new mom, untold years ago (16.8 years ago, to be exact) I was a Penelope Leach mom. Penelope Leach as in the child care guru, whose books I devoured and preferred over all other forms of advice -- including Dr. Berry Brazelton's, Dr. Spock's or my mother's.
Never mind that Ms. Leach's relaxed, child-centered philosophy (feed them when they're hungry, don't let them cry it out) was something I could only partially follow before the control freak in me kicked in. Something about her child care books -- "Babyhood," and "Your Baby and Child," which has sold more than 2 million copies -- resonated. Hers was a no-nonsense, practical British voice backed by scholarship and leavened with warmth and empathy for the struggling new parent. Indeed, one of her chief goals was to make parents feel comfortable with themselves. not failures -- the first step towards successful parenting.
A few years later, I had the privilege of interviewing Ms. Leach at her home in London for a series on child care I was writing for the Post-Gazette with my colleague Sally Kalson . Ms. Leach had just published a book, "Children First," about the abysmal state of day care in the U.S. and Europe and the lack of coherent, comprehensive child-family policies in many Western countries, including paid parental and maternity leave, for starters. She stirred a great deal of controversy when she suggested that children were better off when their mothers stayed home during the early years, not because she was opposed to working mothers, but because day care was mostly mediocre or worse.
Today, I received a copy of her latest book, "Child Care Today: Getting it Right for Everyone" It's not a how-to advice book, but an update on the state of child care in the 21st Century. Some of it looks a little wonky, but Ms. Leach always writes in a clear and accessible fashion and there's lots of information in it. In addressing "the real issues in combining the human essentials of earning and caregiving," she looks at the things that matter: how "family" day care differs from "group" day care, why parents choose the child care arrangements they do and the quality of care at different ages and from different perspectives. For any mother or father interested in examining their own choices in a global context. this book looks like a must-read. There's a final section, clearly targeted at policy makers and politicians, on how to make excellent child care a priority and an investment that pays for itself over and over again. Maybe some of them will actually read it.
"Child Care Today" is being published by Alfred A. Knopf, costs $24.95 and will be released on Jan. 20, 2009 -- the same day our new president is inaugurated. Mere coincidence? I don't think so.
Read the complete post at http://pittsburghmom.com/blogs/teenangst/archive/2008/11/17/child-care-guru-penelope-leach-on-day-care.aspx
Nov 13 2008
[davidheadshot]
I came down the stairs with Sam still in his jammies.
"Mommy?" he asked.
"Yes, Mommy's here. And someone else is here too," I said.
We came down the last flight, and there was Mommy, waiting. And there was Grandpa, waiting too.
Now, usually when I bring Sam down and Mommy's there, he wiggles from my arms to get to hers. He likes me just fine, but Mommy is Mommy.
But not this time. This time he sat in my arms, looking back and forth. Mommy, Grandpa. Mommy, Grandpa. Then he kicked to get free, and when I set him down headed straight for his little fenced-in play area.
My wife, my dad and I looked at each other. "I think he wants you to go play with him," my wife said to my dad.
So off my dad went, and in a moment we could hear Sam's little voice, remarking on one of his books. "Birds! Sky! Leaves!"
"Yep, there are some birds up in the sky," my dad's low voice followed. "And there are leaves blowing in the wind."
"What are you, a potted plant?" I said to my wife.
"Yeah, really!" she said with a laugh. "Here I thought he liked me."
And he does, of course. At not quite two (his birthday is the 21st), Mommy is still the all in all.
But Grandpa is very special.
Since Sam was born, my dad has been coming over about once a week just to spend time with him. At first he would just hold him, coo at him, walk with him. Last summer he would spend patient hours letting Sam hold his fingers to practice walking. Nowadays he gets down on then floor in the play area and looks at toys and books, or goes outside with him if it's nice.
He comes after breakfast. He leaves before lunch. He chats with us a little if we're around. He chats with Sam a lot, asking questions, answering questions, always mild, always calm.
Sam adores him. And why not? How often can Mommy or Daddy take two or three hours and lavish the time on him?
It was, of course, the same for me with my dad. He was working full time, traveling on occasion, serving on the school board and building three additions to our house during my childhood. He was grounded in his faith and rock solid in his sense of who he was and what he expected from us, and our family was built on that foundation. I was absolutely in awe of him. But the times we got to out-and-out play with him were rare enough to be treasured.
They are also, perhaps not coincidentally, some of the best memories of my childhood. Having him throw the football around with my brothers and me was incredibly special, and to this day we all tell stories about his occasional entries into our make-believe games.
And that is most likely how my older kids feel about me, and how Sam will feel about me. And it's fine - probably exactly what a father should be.
But watching my dad, I think I know the kind of grandpa I want to be.
Brian David/Oct. 29, 2008
Read the complete post at http://pittsburghmom.com/blogs/burghdad/archive/2008/11/13/how-to-be-a-grandpa-someday.aspx