I was a little bit amazed at how freeing it was to share our (my) struggles with other people in my post yesterday. So, today I'm thankful for all the prayers that were said on our behalf. Thank you so much.
Gabriel started a new preschool in Cleveland. In terms of distance, that would be 63 miles from our house to his school. Yikes. However, this learning center offers something called "Conductive Therapy." It's intense physical therapy integrated into an academic learning setting. The professionals at Rising Star believe Gabriel has what it takes to walk. The prospect of Gabriel's mobility should be more than enough to rouse my enthusiasm, but it's hard to send my four year old 63 miles away almost every day of the week- with a different person. That's why it's my goal to bring the "Rising Star" program to our county and local schools for kids who could benefit from this type of learning.
Family have offered, and been recruited, to help transport Gabriel to and from his school, but it's tough to know how much time anyone can truly commit to an undertaking of this magnitude for a prolonged period of time. Frankly, it's overwhelming.
This morning, I found myself unprepared to hop into the car at a moment's notice. Today's chauffeur became ill, so Amos decided last night to take Gabriel with him on a delivery, that we just so happened to have on our schedule this morning, in Cleveland. The day's schedule quickly became more congested than he could handle and, after some back-and-forth, I ended up taking Gabriel to school.
Chaos ensued as we hurriedly packed necessities into the van after seeing the oldest three children off to school. The GPS isn't up to date and I got off at a wrong exit. When I finally did get back onto I-271, a little silver civic nearly side swiped me as he tried to get into our lane but, apparently didn't see me. I swerved off the road to avoid the collision, taught Gabriel a new word, and got back onto the highway. I started bawling like a baby and glanced in the rear view mirror at the boys. A crooked little smile met my eyes. The atmosphere calmed in the van as I drove onward an forward. All had fallen quiet for a few minutes when Gabriel's voice broke into my muddled thoughts. "You love me mommy, and I love you." "I love you a lot, Kinzy." I said. "Yeah, and I love you a lot." came his reply. Suddenly, I felt like a real loser being in such a foul mood all morning. That's what it's all about, right? Love? Obviously my four year old has a better grasp of true love than I do.
Soon Gabriel reminded me that I hadn't even remembered to feed him breakfast, and he asked for Burger King… over and over and over again. I told him I didn't see a BK nearby but promised to stop as soon as I did. He got creative with his reminders by calling out "Oh Burger Kiiiiing! I can hear you but I can't seeeeee you!" He always finds a way to make me laugh. I wasn't really in the mood for Burger King and hoped to see at least a McDonald's nearby. Since he only gets tater tots anyway, I snuck through the McDonald's drive through so I could get coffee and oatmeal. He was happy with his breakfast and thankfully, school was just around the corner.
At last, we arrived at Rising Star Learning Center. I drove around the crammed lot and finally found a space in the corner (since we still don't have a handicap parking placard to hang from the rear-view mirror). So far so good, right? I opened the doors and unloaded the boys and that's when Gabriel crumpled into a weeping heap in the parking lot. He demanded that I carry him, and his walker, and push the stroller to his class. We were having a battle of the wills and I won. Okay, it was a draw. We made it exactly through the front doors before I dragged us and all our gear to his class room, but at least we made it! At the classroom doorway, he clung to me like velcro and cried. I wanted to cry too, but anger and resentment that we even had to travel this far for preschool took over. Hot anger at being "special" threatened to overtake me. His "conductor" (that's what they call them here) came to the doorway and kindly tried to coax Gabriel to her. Finally, we peeled him off my hip and she carried him sobbing away. It was a pathetic scene but, to my relief, there is an approximate 1:1 ratio of adults to children. Gabriel's wail carried down the hallway and trailed off as we made it back out the front doors.
I willed myself back out to the van to make the trek home. Is this worth it? Am I really just going to get into my van and leave my little boy in this strange classroom and drive SIXTY THREE miles away from him? I did it and as I backed up, I saw, in my rear-view mirror a line of about seven or eight teachers pushing seven or eight wheelchairs around the school for a morning walk. They were cheery ladies. The kind of people who stand back and cheer when Gabriel tearfully made it through the front doors. They are the kind of people who chose a higher education to dedicate their lives to teaching a little boy or girl to sit up on their own or button their shirt; even if that is the most they can physically ever accomplish. And then they cheer… and that is enough.
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