(fill in the blank)-proofing

Locks, latches, barricades, guards. I remember glancing longingly at the Safety First kit given to us at one of the baby showers. I so looked forward to the days when my tiny, 100% dependent baby would venture a bit out on her own - her sense of curiosity outgrowing her sense of self-preservation - certain that between my watchful eye and the trusty plastic doodads I'd installed, that my sweet growing girl would be safe while the world taught her about judgement and cautiousness.

Now I have no baby. I have had no shower wherein other mothers who have lived through this gleamed and twinkled as they gifted me the equipment I'd need to keep my precocious child from harm's way. The latches I put up now are not installed with certainty that the one I guard from peril will soon absorb my lessons and be able to keep herself unharmed.

No. My husband buys the bolts and latches and new doorknobs from the hardware store. They don't come home in pretty paper and bows or with cards of congratulations and best wishes - instead they come in beige shopping bags, wearily tossed on the counter. We don't open and assemble them together, excitedly prolonging a freshly reached or anticipated milestone. Rather, I move myself to another part of the house to dull the heartache while my husband drills and hooks and hammers alone.

When he is done, I pass by to assess the effectiveness. Yes, that'll work. She won't be able to reach that. We don't celebrate, we don't grin or congratulate ourselves. We both know the frustration she'll feel when something she worked so hard to be able to open has now been changed up on her, that she has lost a freedom she just obtained. We dread latching and unlatching many times a day, little needling reminders that the safety propaganda didn't take hold, that little liberties are being removed one by one, instead.

She broke through our very old cedar fence in the back of our yard. I found her on the other side of the block. When we replace the fence, it will not be an aesthetic or resale value investment, we won't sort through quaint cuts and consider different styles. We will pick the basic one for the utilitarian function of keeping our daughter whole.

Today a hook and eye went up on the basement door. It's less than a foot away from the one we put up a few months ago on the back screen door. Seeing the two of them so close together kicks up a cloud of grim conjecture: heavy, glinting bolts on every last hinged thing in our home.

Back when we sprinkled the house with baby proofing gear like so many holiday baubles, we knew it was temporary.

We know no such thing now.

In Defense of Hope

Patronized one too many times, discounted one too many times, shoved towards a vat of idle bitterness one too many times...

I do not accept, I do not stand by, I do not jump into that vile lake of "I give up."

Come read me at Hopeful Parents.

In Defense of Hope (and of Faith in Humankind)

Feel free to post a comment on HP - would love to hear from you there... or here!

Your Kid Gonna Make Toast or Make a Difference?

Every single exit from her regular classroom is taken very seriously for my daughter, Addie. The reasons behind the exit, the gains projected, the risk of missing what's happening in her absence are all taken into consideration. Most often, we decline to excuse her from what she learns with her peers in favor of something else, even Friday swim with the spec ed class. She does join 4 of her K5 classmates to leave the room for reading support during the week - a support accessed by all kids when needed, not specific to spec ed students, not "special" at all. I have granted permission for Addie to join the special ed class on a field trip to the zoo and to go out to lunch, both intended for diversion, not for practical, sub-academic learning. Other than that, through 2 years of stating our case and demonstrating why it is critical for Addie, she spends her days in K5, learning what K5 kids learn.

I could not ever bring myself to sign the permission slip that Lisa Pugh found in her daughter's backpack. Indeed, I will have a harder time, as Addie grows, and the term "life skills" is tossed in more frequently to explain why she isn't in Math, why she is learning to follow a recipe instead of how to write a persuasive composition, why we will spend 3 years on confirming that she knows every last sight word before she can graduate on to actual decoding... I understand K5 is relatively effortless when it comes to inclusion and general curriculum modifications. But that tells me we all need to step it up and get creative, not "teach" kids how to run errands or make toast in place of general curriculum. Or worse still, show her that changing oil is something she might aspire to, if she starts studying the process at age 10...

Please read Lisa's brilliant post and share it far and wide. Regardless of policy and legislation, if expectations are in the wrong place, we lose. Lisa doesn't just rant about that, she offers the stats behind it and throws down the gauntlet to us all.

Life Skills in a Jiffy, by Lisa Pugh

I have a...

...child with Standard Needs. Two of them, in fact.

Check out today's post at Hopeful Parents.

Standard Needs