Life is not always easy. It throws you curve balls. One day it is gum drops and unicorns pooping skittles. Then the next day it is a storm tearing at you and shredding your heart into razor sharp splinters. I have always been the person to rarely say no. I want to help others. I want to be the person someone can rely on. Many around me don’t have someone to rely on. I do think of others quite often. I want others to know I care because I have seen when someone has the whole world on their shoulders – a simple hug, dinner provided, or phone call can make the difference. I can be very giving. I often wonder why the same favors are not returned to others. I am tough. I rarely cry, expect here lately. I don’t like it. It makes me feel weak. Maybe it is the old age, I don’t know. I can be callous. I am very blunt. I will stand up for what is right. I will speak my mind. No one can convince me to change my mind because they want me to. They have to show me where I am wrong, because if you can’t show me then you are probably wrong. I don’t just pick sides to pick a side. I do my own research. I don’t rely on someone else, except for husband. I rely on him A LOT, but that is in our contract. I don’t forgive and I hold grudges like no one else in this world. If you give me reason to doubt you or not trust you, no matter how much I forgive you, that doubt is implanted in my soul. This is me. This also is all amplified if the momma bear has to come out.
I have had friends come and go in my life. That hurts. But I can deal with that. There are reasons. Lives change and take different turns. Family priorities grow. The true friendship will circle back around when things slow down. I can handle when kids are mean to each other. They are growing and exploring their attitudes and hormone changes and becoming aware of how smelly their friends are but fail to see they too are stinky. They are trying to be popular, cool, or just want some attention, good or bad. They don’t realize how petty it really is. They are still learning who they are. But what I have a really hard time with is adults being vindictive and malicious to kids. Not providing what a child needs and not seeing the worth in a child, every child. That is a direct harm to the child. Let me be real frank here: YOU ARE A BULLY.
It hurts to read the words “not worth it” when it deals directly with my family especially any of my babies. And you know what, that really makes the momma bear come out. How can a struggling kindergarten not be worth it? Thank goodness to all mighty, that child has someone that thinks he or she is worth it. And that child will be okay, no thanks to you. What about the children deemed not worth it in your eyes? The ones who don’t have someone to be their voice for them? The politics of it is not my job; we are skimming the bare minimum (if that), are not enough and are not right. I fight my battle not only for mine but for them. When did it become okay and acceptable to not want a child to have a chance to reach the moon?
My plea is: make a difference. Be a person when that 7 year child looks back he or she can say “I am astronaut because of you.” Precious children of this world find who are and know your own worth. Don’t let anyone ever hold you back.
My son has dyslexia. What does that even mean? For him, it means he struggles, he struggles a lot. He tries way harder than most of his peers. It means he is smart but needs classroom accommodations. It means he needs a consistent therapy program done with fidelity. It means he at the age of 7, has to know his own voice and how to use it in a public school system. It means if you give him a verbal math problem he can figure it out, but a written word problem he shuts down because he knows he can do the math but the words/letters are jumping all around in his head. It means he has the most vivid detailed stories, but can’t get one sentence on the paper. It means he will probably always be the last to finish his work and will never get that “free time” to draw or doodle. It means all of his class will be waiting on him to finish a test so they can talk. It means he uses 4.6x more of his brain as compared to most; he has to put extra effort into spelling and decoding words. It means his time at home after school is reinforcing what was taught all day long. It means he goes to bed late, late. . It means he cannot sign up of Cub Scouts. It means we prayed to God that he has a teacher willing to accommodate him, do those extra accommodations with a smile and no grudges because she/he will not get paid extra, and not scrutinize so much it tears him down for mistakes he has not had therapy for yet. It means even when he finishes his therapy program, dyslexia will always rear its nasty head from time to time, but he will be equipped on how to manage and be successful. It means his momma will advocate for him and not care if she is the least liked person.
My son has dyslexia and his momma wants him to be a successful student. What does that even mean? For his momma, it means I am his voice and his momma advocates for him. It means if his momma does not, he will fall through the cracks. It means his momma researches, learns how to teach him, and cries for him when she sees the aggravation flare up in his little body. It means when his therapy is no longer available at school, his momma still gets him his therapy outside of school. It means he will be a successful student. It means when his school can’t or won’t provide for him, he will still be ok. It means this momma will see to it he gets what is needs regardless. It means his momma is probably known as the “nagging never happy woman who always wants more”. It means his momma is a good momma. And it means his momma has tears in her eyes as she types this.
My son has dyslexia in a public school system. What does that even mean? It means public school dictates his therapy. It means if that compromises his success, we opt out. It means when I opt out, they don’t understand. It means decisions are streamlined for the whole. It means they can change his program with a flip of coin. It means, yes individually his teachers, his principals, his school administration care for him, some even love him. It means they individually want him to be successful. It means, for him, dyslexia in school is just politics. It means the individuals would have to come together and make a stance for him to keep a therapy in his school. It means, while they love him, they have jobs of their own to protect. It means it takes work, extra work. It means my son learns life is unfair at the age of 7.
My son has dyslexia and he will be ok.