Bragging Rights

Midterms were easy compared to the rest of my life. I had one take-home midterm and one 5-question essay test. I truly enjoyed both of them. Right. But I’ve had enough of sitting around and moping. I want to think about things other than imploding families and death from H1N1. So…you get to read about my children.

My oldest is the best big brother I know. He has a “responsible” attitude, and takes his job as the oldest very seriously. Okay, so he’s a little bossy. Even so, I know I can depend on him to keep our family members clothed and fed while I’m busy being a student. I’ve always been grateful he was born first.

My second son is the first one with autism. He was amazing: he started talking when he was just two months old. He cooed, “I love you” to his grandparents and us on a regular basis. He knew what he was saying. By the time he was 12 months old he could sing recognizable songs. Then something went wrong, and he lost all of his speech by the time he was two and a half. He even had trouble understanding what we were saying to him. He had to start over, and this time it took a lot longer. With the help of God and some wonderful special education teachers, my son is now finishing up high school and headed for the grand adventure of adult life.

My third son is interesting. He started off that way. When I saw that first ultrasound and discovered I was having another boy, I wondered what could possibly be different and interesting about having another male child in the family. I started getting the idea when he was born weighing almost 11 pounds. He didn’t stop there. In fact, he never did stop running. He ran in circles, with a huge smile on his face. He ran everywhere, all the time. He scared his nursery class teachers. He was a blast! There were times when he struggled, when his unique brand of autism sprouted violent or anti-social behavior. He still has no friends at all. Even so, he has an interesting perspective on life and is fun to have around. I wouldn’t trade him in for anyone.

An ultrasound tech told me my fourth child was a girl. After three boys, though, I was skeptical. I told everyone I wouldn’t believe it until I changed that first diaper. She actually did turn out to be a girl. She had tons of dark brown hair, and wide, gorgeous blue eyes. She still does. My daughter spends her time befriending the friendless and creating wondrous art creations. She is the peacemaker that our busy family needed.

My youngest son also struggles with autism. His is the “worst.” He was very slow at learning to say words. For the first couple of years he spoke in nonsense words with perfect intonation and voice inflection. He didn’t seem to notice that we used different sounds in our speech; he just heard the “music” part of language. With the help of patient teachers and speech therapists he is doing well today. I can’t believe my youngest boy is in 8^th grade!

My baby ended up being a girl. We had quite a struggle getting her here: she was born with a collapsed lung and severe gastro-esophageal reflux. She almost died in the NICU. She had surgery to correct the reflux when she was four. No one would suspect any problems now, though – she is a tall, healthy, smart 11-year-old. She is an artist and a musician like her sister.

Okay, I just passed the 600-word mark. I guess I’ll have to save the rest for the next slacker blog.