I’m a pretty gentle creature.
|I'm kind of like this dude|
If you’re stuck in traffic, you want me passing by – I will ALWAYS let you out.
It’s difficult for me to correct or criticize someone – even when it’s warranted.
I’m not allowed outside when we have a yard sale – “Oh, that tool has a $10 price tag? Sure, you can have it for a quarter.”
I never have the heart to send back my food if it’s sub-par or even if it’s not what I ordered at all.
I often apologize when things are not my fault. Example: I went shopping on Black Friday, and a crazy person on the hunt for an Xbox 360 nearly ripped my fingers off when he slammed into my cart, then turned to go around me, hitting a huge stack of Paper Jamz guitars which all collapsed unto my head. Through my tears, I mumbled, “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”
|The other Black Friday shoppers. Obviously more aggressive|
than I am.
I’m a wimp.
Something changes in me though when it comes to Micah. If I feel like he is threatened, or made fun of, or hurt, my heartbeat speeds up, my blood boils, the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
I feel… braver.
Maybe not braver…. Meaner
I want to jump in where I shouldn’t - apparently you’re supposed to let kids sort out their own problems. Which is why I didn’t pick up some random 8 year old and throw him into the woods when he bit my son’s finger at camp – why are we always getting bitten in our family?
|Micah at camp - not with any kids who bit him!|
I often react harshly to my husband when I feel he is being too hard on Micah – even when I would have punished him the same way (Doesn’t he know that MOM knows best?).
I am still carrying around a pretty big grudge against Micah’s teacher from last year. He made her a model of the Titanic out of paper one night, and when he proudly presented it to her the next day, hoping she’d put it on her shelf with other projects she’d be given, she said she didn’t want it. Yeah, she’s dead to me.
|Showing off the Titanic he made - :(|
I know it’s a part of life, but I hate to see him hurt or embarrassed. There’s a part of me that’s secretly (though once you blog it, I’m pretty sure it’s not a secret anymore) glad that he has shown little interest in sports. I’m fairly certain one strike-out would wreck me.
All of this to say, we made the decision at the end of the last school year to have Micah repeat first grade. Though his grades and scores were well within passing range, his teacher just felt like his maturity level wasn’t where it should have been – he had trouble focusing and working independently – and she was right. We still believe (and pray!) that this was the right decision. I think this year will be a huge confidence builder for him as far as school work goes (even though I, admittedly, think slightly hateful thoughts when I encounter kids who can barely read, do simple math or write their names, yet moved on to second grade without any problem. I have to remind myself that it’s about what’s best for Micah, not about comparing him to other children).
|He's one of a kind!|
I’m still extraordinarily bothered when he says things like, “I failed first grade” – language we have NEVER used with him. Or when he says, “I’m supposed to be in second.” I try to explain, “you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.”
Today (First Grade: The Sequel, Day 2), as we waited at the bus stop, Micah saw a couple of classmates from last year, and they asked him what class he was in, what building, etc. Micah answered. I don’t think the kids even made the connection that he was doing first grade over, but I could tell that he was ashamed, and that broke my heart. I wanted to scoop him up and just hug any hurt away – of course, I’m not allowed to kiss or hug him at the bus stop, so I did not.
|Keep that smile!|
I want so badly to protect him from this world. I never want anyone to make him feel stupid or inferior. I know it will be easier when we pass up this “growth year,” and he moves on to second grade, but I know there will always be something… some pain I can’t shield him from, some battle I can’t fight for him. But I hope he’ll know that I’m in his corner, always.
And ready to jump in if need be.
|Silly boy - I think he'll be just fine!|