Wait...We're Going to Share a Straw?

Yesterday, my husband and I celebrated eleven years of marriage. I’d like to say that they have been the best years of my life. Unfortunately though, they have been some of the toughest and unlike anything I have ever experienced. I have had to dig deep and have learned quite a few things about myself, many of which I don’t like. Looking yourself in the mirror and wondering, “I wonder if I would have married me” is pretty crazy, isn’t it?

Anyone who knows me, and knows me well, is well aware of the fact that I have many self-imposed rules.

* I don’t drink or eat after others, regardless of who they are.

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* I can’t go to sleep at night without brushing my teeth and taking a shower. If I happen to fall asleep, I will wake up, regardless of the time, and do whichever I did not get around to before then.

* I can’t sleep without (my fuzzy) socks on my feet.

* I cannot speak, or eat, in the morning without brushing my teeth.

* If I leave our house and go to a public place, I cannot sit on my furniture at home unless I change first.

* I cannot go anywhere outside my home and come back and sit on my bed without changing my bottoms: pants/dress/skirt/shorts.

* I cannot leave the kitchen if there are dishes in the sink.

* I choose to eat at least half of my food before drinking any liquids.

* If I am in a vehicle and eating finger food with unwashed hands, I eat up to where  my fingertips touch and throw out the rest.

* I must do everything today that I can before tomorrow. I have a why do tomorrow what can be done today philosophy.

So, imagine my husband, from a totally different background, who is pretty laid back and lives a much more easy going life, meeting and marrying someone like me with all my idiosyncrasies. Imagine me, with all my self-imposed rules, marrying someone whose life’s motto is pretty much “live and let live” and “let tomorrow worry about itself”. Of course we butt heads, almost daily, but we’ve impacted each other for the better, to a certain extent, I would like to believe.

Our days are not always full of wonder and love, but we do our best to attempt to understand one another, knowing where our individual strengths lie and attempt to respect them. We love each other whole-heartedly. Even though I’m not the lovey-dovey type, he still kinda gets me. I’m not one willing to be vulnerable, but even when he sees a glimmer of my vulnerability, he treads lightly and does not take advantage of it. He understands I like my space when I’m in one of my moods or if he catches me in an emotional state. I tend to be the wounded pit bull that does not like to be comforted and just allowed  to have my ‘man up’ moment, and he is very aware of that.

I know when to leave him be in his creative moments and to allow him to let those juices flow when he’s in his element. Love in general is hard, so in our case in particular, it feels even harder. Our love requires a lot of mutual respect and communication from both sides. We were raised very differently and have very different life experiences that make our union difficult, challenging, but very interesting.  

Year eleven was the absolute hardest, with several hurtful words and actions, but we made it. Everything isn’t perfect and probably never will be, but we’ve gotta keep trying, right? Our pastor, and many others who love us, remind us often how important it is to keep our marriage Christ-centered. If not for that constant reminder and purposeful living, we never would have made it this far.

So, with all my kookiness, imagine us at dinner last night celebrating our eleven years together. As I was examining the silverware for dirt and water stains, my husband asked if I’d like a sip of his drink. As he reached over the table to get me an untouched straw, imagine his disbelief when I said, “Nah, I’ll use yours.” His eyes bulged and he smiled, “Wait…we’re going to share a straw?” (Yep, I have a whole backwash thing as well.)

I said I’m still learning (and growing), right? So, the process continues…year eleven, here we go…

It's Not over Yet

 If only I had been more vocal and shared my concerns with my husband sooner. If only I had been more assertive. If only I had been more confident in myself as a mother and not second-guessed myself. If only I had been more firm from the start. If only I had worked less and focused on helping to make sure he had all he needed to ensure he progressed much sooner and had a better transition.

Well, it’s been six and a half years and I still have these what ifs. It’s really a tough place to be. You see your child struggling in school and don’t know how best to support or encourage him/her without being too lenient or tough, or enabling. You feel like you’re the reason for the way things are going. You take the blame and hide it in your pocket, taking it out when no one’s looking and that child is having difficulty. “It’s my fault,” you say to yourself, then shove it back in your pocket when others around. You walk around feeling heavy-laden with a burden that no one else can seem to relieve you of. Well, maybe that’s just me.

Once my son was given the label ‘special needs’ due to the delays resulting from a hearing impairment he had for about two and a half years as a toddler, I was done. I was certain I had failed him. I had voiced my concerns with the doctor at his 18-month appointment, but I was assured he was fine and had simply regressed as a result of his younger brother’s birth. After a year and almost going on two, it was evident that my son’s speech was not improving, neither had he returned to where he had been prior, speaking clear complete sentences. I was worried.

By his three-year-old wellness check, I was so done with being told I didn’t know what I was talking about, so I requested another doctor. Thank God the doctor was able to identify an issue with his ear and referred us to an ENT. The day we visited the ENT, I was in total disbelief. My son had not been hearing us well. His eardrum had not been moving. Without the movement of his eardrums, he couldn’t differentiate between sounds, so he was mispronouncing words he had known how to say prior with no issues. I was stunned, helpless, and angry. How had I been ignored for almost two years because I did not hold a medical degree? Why did I not seek a second opinion sooner?

Well, fast forward a few years. As usual, since he began kindergarten, I attend his bi-annual IEP meetings, where his classroom teacher, speech therapist, etc. tell me how he’s doing academically. Each time, I hear about one or two improvements and find that he’s still not meeting the standards for his grade. By third grade, I had been told not to be disheartened if he never quite met the standards and always lagged behind in school. His continued use of manipulatives in math was annoying to me as I felt that at some point he should be taught to do math like everyone else. I always left the meetings saddened and discouraged.

About a month ago, during his first IEP meeting at his new school,  I heard great things about his character, how happy he always is, how much his classmates enjoy helping him, etc. The more I heard, the more uneasy I became. “Yes, but how is he doing academically?” I asked.  Then one of the special education teachers began to speak of his deficiencies and how he was making progress with some assistance. At a point, I asked when he would be weaned off manipulatives and assistance, being that he will attend high school and college one day and those won’t be accessible to him.

The same teacher then replied, “Well, who’s to say he will attend college? Not everyone is cut out for college. Just take it one day at a time.”

I whipped my head around so fast in her direction that it hurt. My head was hot with anger, and I tried to compose myself and calmly respond. It took me a few seconds, but I was very firm in my response. I let her know that not everyone goes to college but that I do not believe that certain people aren’t cut out for college. I let her know that often, it’s how we as adults and the world around certain people treat an individual or perceive them that limits them and what they think they can or cannot do. I let her know that my hope and dream for each of my children is to have them dream big and be educated. I told her I understand that many successful people do not go to college but that I refuse to count my son out of the running for college just because of where he is today. If he chooses not to college, that will be his decision, but I’m not going to shoot that decision down for him before he even understands what college is.

I am determined to celebrate his achievements, no matter how big or small. He is very bright and talented in so many areas that the education system doesn’t extend to, which is fine. However, when his teacher sent me an e-mail, telling me that she appreciated his pleasant spirit, attitude, and great character and wanted to honor him with an award at one of the school assemblies as a surprise, I had mixed feelings. I didn’t want him to be satisfied with by-the-way awards, but I had to realize that to him, it would be very special moment, so I had to stop being overly Nigerian for a moment and just go with it. After all, he had never been recognized for anything in front of a big group of his peers before, so I made sure not say a word to him about it and to be in attendance.

Being that he was not told ahead of time that he would be a recipient, he sat still and clapped for others who received awards for academic progress, cheering them on with his classmates. Then, when it came to the R.O.A.R. (Respect, Ownership, Attitude, Responsibility) awards, I prepared my phone to video tape him. As my son’s name and photo appeared on the screen for all to see, I saw his eyes light up. He jumped up and ran around the gym as his other peers had. I couldn’t help it...someone next to me must have cut an onion, because I had to push back the water coming from my eyes. His smile was wider than I had ever seen, and at that moment, every doubt I had about that moment faded away.

As I sit here now recalling it, tears fill my eyes. That was my little boy, the one some may consider an underdog. Right now, he has a big heart, great character, and an inventor’s mind. He’s exactly who he is meant to be. No part of his life, even the setbacks, is a mistake. It’s molding him into who he is supposed to be. I am at peace knowing that he’ll catch up, and he’s going to be an amazing young man. His story is unfolding before our eyes, and it’s not over yet.