A Few Thoughts Around Spencer Turning Seven Years Old
We celebrated Spencer’s 7th year of life a few months ago. It was a fantastic party threw by the most amazing party planner I know. (She’s my sister, so my bias might be showing, but she is incredible and she’s for hire!) We celebrated his love of listening to the same songs over and over and over again. Spence had his own special concert of 5 Little Ducks, The Wheels on the Bus, Old MacDonald and all his favorites! It was a fun afternoon. My heart soared at seeing his smile while he clapped along to the music. It was so heartening to have so many neighbors and friends there to celebrate with us. I’m thankful for the community that surrounds my little man. We really are a bunch of lucky ducks.
My 7 year old had so much fun at his 5 Little Duck themed birthday party!
Spencer’s birthday is always a time of reflection and thinking for me. I make no qualms about the kind of adventure it has been being Spencer’s mom. Lots of heartache, lots of joy. It is a roller coaster of a ride being a mother to a child with atypical needs. I have always said that the good things always outweigh the bad, but sometimes, sometimes dear reader, the bad holds me down in a prison of self-doubt and hurt.
This summer, my older sons were playing baseball. This included trips to their games in the evening or in the middle of a hot afternoon. There were times I had help with Spencer and he could be at home with his nanny, enjoying his own activities. But there were also times when I needed to bring him and try to negotiate with him spurts of sitting and watching between his desire to walk aimlessly or go up and down the slide on the play structure next to the ball field.
His dad is coaching the boys and it’s important that I am there, watching their efforts pitching and hitting and catching. It’s something they love and of course I want to share in their passion to play and let them know how much their mom cares about what they’re doing.
So when they say, “Did you see my hit mom?” Or if they’re sad about what they didn’t do, it’s important I’m the sounding board they need. This is infinitely more difficult when I have to chase and run after Spencer.
This was the case on one of these games. It was actually a few days after we celebrated all things Spencer. It really highlighted the swing from joy to hard then back to joy again and then hard and then some weird middle of the road where you feel just blah.
Anyway, during this particular game, I was alternating between sitting for a batter or two, quietly singing songs to Spencer so he would stay and sit for more than 2 minutes. Asking him the same question that he knows the answer to so he would sit and answer it again and again, so I could watch my sons bat. Sometimes just holding his tall, almost 60 pound body hanging from my neck so we didn’t have to leave. He likes when I hold him and sing quietly in his ear. It buys me half an inning or so. I was back and forth and back and forth, from the field to the play structure, craning my neck from the top of the slide trying watch the pitches my nervous 9 year old is flinging over the plate.
One of my many strategies to watch the game and keep Spencer happy. s/o to my friend Erin for snapping this picture for me.
I was wiped at the end of the game. Disappointed I wasn’t able to watch as much as I wanted to. Spencer was upset that I was making him return one last time to the field so I could tell my husband that I was leaving and he did a great job coaching. I was about to turn and walk to the car, Spencer yelling at me that he wants to let go of my hand and go the other direction. I was about to pick him up and walk to the car, when another mother from the team walked up to me.
“I am so impressed with what you do with Spencer.”
I smiled politely, told her thanks, that he was a good kid. It was an automatic, rote answer, not one that I particularly put a lot of thought into. She must have sensed it, because she grabbed my forearm and really looked into my eyes.
“No, I mean it. You have so much patience with him and I think it’s amazing. I’ve learned so much from watching you with him.”
This time I gave her a real smile and fought back the tears that were welling in my eyes.
“Thank you.” I paused and swallowed my emotions. “That really means so much. Thank you for saying so.”
She smiled and we went our separate ways. I walked Spencer to the car, loaded him in his seat, closed and shielded my eyes when he hit me for buckling up his seatbelt and screamed the word “NO” at me. I reminded him to have gentle hands with mom and explained again that it was time to go.
“Oh-hay.” He responded, his way of telling me ‘OKAY’ and that he understood now that it was final and I was climbing into the driver’s seat.
This was 3 months ago, and that small exchange of another mother seeing me and seeing my efforts that most days feel absolutely fruitless still fuels me sometimes. In that moment, I felt seen. There are countless moments of motherhood where your work and efforts feels invisible and insignificant. Countless moments where I battle the urge to scream back and throw hands in the air and run away. So it is amazing to me how ONE moment of encouragement and affirmation can fuel me and give the the courage to keep on keeping on.
I know you are reading this on an impersonal screen somewhere, but can I be totally real with you for a minute? Take a deep breath and listen. You are doing a great job. You are. You fail and make mistakes and sometimes do or say the wrong thing, I get it. (Believe me, I get it sooo hard.) But I see you and I see your efforts. I am inspired by how you handled that really hard moment you didn’t think you could handle. You’re doing a good job. Keep on going.
Would you look at this incredible stage and backdrop? Made and designed by the talented, Jenna D Chau.
