Category Archives: Sam
“How was your day?” I buckled Sam’s seatbelt then climbed back in front while Caroline hooked her own.
Caroline said, “It was AWESOME! I get to be in classroom B, and I’m only with one of the Katies, but it doesn’t matter because I get to go up to C and D for reading and math and spelling, and language, and writing, and I have the best seat ever in all the classrooms, and I’m right next to my one Katie in homeroom…”
When she paused to inhale, I jumped in. “Sam, how about you?”
“I like my teacher.”
The barrage from his sister’s side resumed.… Read the rest
Before you begin, here’s the Sam series, in order, with an important note about ballet in there:
Sam Part IV (this one)
So, the last time we saw Sam, he had just jumped out of my car, and the family was headed for Wit’s End Lane really fast. As an emergency measure, the psychiatrist prescribed a mood stabilizer, Risperdal, and we hoped for the best.
The results were sudden and stunning.
For the first time in a year, we saw our son. The funny little guy under all that anger, the creative thinker hidden under all the frustration.… Read the rest
The toilet bubbled brown, its contents unshifted by two days of intermittent plunging. Scott aimed his snake and cranked the handle. I stood by on flood detail. A rattle and a grunt. “That’s it.” He kept twisting. Nothing happened. He shook his head and began extruding the snake. I returned the mop to the laundry room. Visions of an epic plumber’s bill scrambled through my brain. But then, “Damn it, Sam!”
“You got it!?”
“It stuck on the end of the snake.”
Scott carried out the impaled, pink tentacled squishy ball. I threw it away. “Caroline’s going to be pissed.”
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“Are we getting closer” took me back to an indent in flushing, though Scott’s big line, “I think I’m getting closer, I can feel the damned thing,” was lost in revision.… Read the rest
The director pounced as soon as I walked in the door. “I’m not sure what you expect us to do.” He held up some other child’s shirt, cut to ribbons.
“I’m sure you’re doing everything you can.” And I also need to get him to therapy. “I’ll be happy to pay for the shirt.” And if you didn’t have eighteen kids in that class, he’d never have been able to get that many holes sliced before somebody noticed.
“Oh, we’d never ask a parent to pay for…” Bullshit. I still have the demanding note with the receipt for the cost of replacing someone’s sleeping bag.… Read the rest
Some days, the posts just write themselves. Sam has to have bloodwork done Thursday. He’s taking a mood stabilizer, and we need to be sure it isn’t screwing with his hormones. I am frantic for him to be able to keep taking this stuff. I’m seeing my child for the first time in over a year, and I’m not ready for him to vanish again. These tiny pills have given me back my sweet silly little boy. And I want to keep him. Wouldn’t you?
… Read the rest
“Turn it down.” Scott’s face loomed as my door swung open.
“I had that closed.”
“We can hear you in the kitchen.”
“Yeah, Mom, it’s too loud.” Caroline poked her head under her father’s elbow.
“You’re only complaining because it’s heavy metal. If I had the Beatles up, you’d be in here dancing.”
“You’ve got Beatles? I want the Beatles!” Sam joined the fray with enthusiasm unreasonable for someone who should have been zoned out in front of the TV.
I clicked around until my desk stopped shaking with the gunshots of “For Those About to Rock, We Salute You.”… Read the rest
Dear Chewie,
The kids beat the heat in lots of ways. They spend a couple of days building Lego vehicles.
And playing with them.
Daddy reads them books.
I take them to the pool.
But take the dog for three walks in a day?
Dude, you’re crazy. Not happening.
Here, have a rawhide and don’t eat my shoes, OK?
Love, Mom
… Read the rest
For the second consecutive year, my kids participated in the Montgomery ballet’s Fairy Tale Ballet Camp. It’s a compromise between doing summer lessons and skipping ballet over the summer, and it’s one Sam and Caroline both enjoy. It buys Scott and I a good measure of sanity, because Caroline’s age group meets three times a week (M-W-F from 9-12) and Sam’s meets twice a week (Tu.-Th. 9-12). Although it means having to have a kid up there every single day for three weeks, it also means a morning spent with only the other child at home all morning.
Also, they put on an adorable little performance at the end.… Read the rest
These two pictures hang above my desk. They say an awfully lot without my needing to interpret them for you, but let me talk awhile anyway. My husband is not just a father to our children. He’s their Daddy. Sam, who is a Mama’s boy, has lately started demanding his Daddy-hugs at bedtime again and saying, in a worried little voice, “I like Daddy best.” He doesn’t yet understand the ebb and flow of a parent-child relationship, and he worries that he’s hurting me. He always seems surprised by my delight. I tell him, “That’s wonderful. I love you, and sis, and Daddy best.”… Read the rest