Thursday, July 25, 2013

A Love Letter to Our Little School

Just a few short weeks ago, Ben packed his little preschool backpack and said so long to our favorite place in the world, the Frankie Lemmon School. I said a while back, before he even started, that this was a place that deserved its own post. Well, my time has not been my own over these past few years, so it's long overdue, but here it is.

Pre-FLS Ben, having no idea about all the goodness about to come his way

Before Ben began his time at Frankie Lemmon School, we heard at various times from various doctors that he would never walk, never talk, never eat, never learn to read or write, never live independently. We were still hiding in our uncertainty, still hearing those devastating words ringing in our ears: "Ben will never be normal. Nothing will ever be normal." No parent wants to hear those words, but it is an especially bitter pill to swallow when nobody can tell you what you can expect. Although chromosome disorders in general are quite common, each individual disorder is rare. When we finally received Ben's diagnosis after years of piecing together different complications and delays, we learned that his was the 40th diagnosis of that particular chromosome deletion. Globally. Ever. (Now, I'm sure that there are far greater numbers that remain undiagnosed.) We felt as if we were looking for a soft place to land in that storm, and did we ever find one. 

We like to say that for each year at Frankie Lemmon,  Ben conquered a new "never will he" milestone, but he also made progress in every area each day. Thanks to the truly amazing group effort of every single person at Frankie Lemmon School, by the end of his first year, Ben walked without help of a walker and made significant progress in his eating and his communication. 

Ben taking some of his first independent steps at the end of the year program (3 year olds)

As Ben started his second year, we were so amazed at the progress in Ben's communication via picture books and iPad use that we started to accept that even if Ben could never talk to us, we would all be just fine because he didn't really need to speak to communicate with us. No sooner did we get comfortable with that idea than he decided to start talking, and he hasn't stopped since. We can't keep up with his language explosions, and now he spells, reads, and graces us with frequent concerts of some beloved FLS songs.

Ben's now well known love of the iPad started when he was three.
We believe that inclusion of the iPad in instruction helped Ben learn the alphabet, learn to spell, and eventually learn to read at a level well beyond what any doctor told us he would ever be capable of doing.

Thanks to Frankie Lemmon School, the little boy who would never do anything is a walker, a talker, a singer, a reader, an iPad genius, a number lover, a jumper, a climber, a hamburger aficionado, a hugger, an emerging writer, a music lover, a brother wrestler, and a normal little boy. That's right. A normal little boy in a normal family living a very normal life.

Of course all of the accomplishments Ben made during his time at Frankie Lemmon School blew us out of the water, but there is something greater at work there. I remember something Janet Sellers told us when we visited the school before enrolling Ben. After meeting all of the staff and students, I mentioned that it seemed like everyone truly belonged there, that nobody seemed to act as if this was "just a job." She got a little tear in her eye (and this is not a woman who cries so easily) and replied, "No, someone who felt that way wouldn't last long around here." The staff at Frankie Lemmon School is truly a family. They are hope givers and miracle workers (but I bet they would hesitate to call themselves so, even though it's altogether true). I sent Ben to school each day knowing that everyone from the cab driver to his classroom teachers and therapists, to the office staff, the volunteers, and our beloved custodian, Matt (Seriously, Ben hugged him on the last day of camp last week and said, "I love you, Matt, I love you!") had genuine concern for Ben's well being and abilities. I also know that the love doesn't end when your time there does, and it goes both ways.

ALL of the Townsends love everyone at Frankie Lemmon School

Thank you for being the spark that helped our little boy become the person he was meant to be. Thank you for shining a light on him and proving that there are no limits. Thank you for loving our baby and making him feel important and special. Thank you for taking care of our entire family in ways you might not even realize you did. 

Ben with all three of his classroom teachers: Miss J, Forbis, and Miss Caroline

I wish I had a picture of Ben with everyone from Frankie Lemmon, but he would be the first to tell you that he is not really one pose for a photograph...




Wednesday, March 6, 2013

End the Word. Please.


Dude, that is so retarded.

Do you ever say this, think it, hear others laugh as they chide their friends with it?

To those who occasionally say something or someone is retarded, I implore you to make a change to your vocabulary. “Retard” and “retarded” are never, ever used as compliments. These words were long ago hijacked from medical use and have since taken up what seems to be permanent residence on the playground, in our schools, in our homes. We have grown up with it and indifferently passed it on to our children because it doesn't carry the significant weight that other slurs now do. What's the difference? This is a population of people who most times cannot fight back. To realize the pain they and their families experience as a result of hearing these words and to continue to use them is the most cowardly form of bullying. You will still hear jokes like, "I can count to potato." Am I supposed to be amused? If this makes you laugh, please consider your place in this world. And please understand that my son is not a punchline.

Here’s the thing. I used to be one of you. I didn’t give the use of these words a second thought, because I would never have actually said something cruel to someone who had Down syndrome, developmental delays, cognitive delays, autism, or just “wasn’t quite right.” After all, I didn’t mean “them.” I didn’t even give much consideration to how deeply words can hurt until Ben Townsend came into the world. After that? Well, everything changed.

Now listen, in my heart of hearts, I truly believe that most people don’t actually feel hatred or disgust toward the people who make up this population. Most of the time, people don't feel much of anything unless such a statement directly affects someone they know and love.  They really aren’t trying to hurt people who have special needs or their families. To those with open minds and hearts, I want to tell you a little bit more about Ben.

Ben was Bumbo-sitting at his first birthday party

I distinctly recall a moment when Ben was 13 months old. As I helped him sit up, which he was unable to do without support at that time, he struggled to play with a toy that interested him. While my heart leapt that he was finally(!) interested in a toy, I felt the melancholy nagging of doubt. Around that same time, we listened as various physicians told us that Ben might never walk, never communicate, never eat without assistance, never be able to do anything independently. As a mother just trying to survive the late-night cry-in-the-shower sessions and get through the next day, hearing someone tell you that you might never hear your child call you Mama is a devastating blow.

When I look at Ben now and think over his life so far, I’m amazed by his strength and determination, the effort he has made to master simple tasks that you and I probably take for granted. The boy who would never do anything? He is five now.  He reads to me every night, rarely missing a word and using inflection I could have only dreamed of hearing from my former students. He can count to 100 and beyond by 1s, 2s, 3s, 5s, and 10s. He understands adding and subtracting. Not only can he walk, he can also run and flip and jump (and tell you exactly how many times he has jumped). He can sing the alphabet A-Z and Z-A. He can spell touchdown, Kentucky, eighteen, orange, and neighborhood. We could never take him to sit in the audience at a spelling bee, because he would win from the crowd. He can play football with his brother, and although he has a long way to go to catch the ball consistently, he can tackle all of us Polamalu-style.

I'll race you back to the pool!


Book Club meeting with friend Simon

Ben has worked so much harder than you or I ever did to learn to walk, to talk, to read, to eat, to perform fine motor skills such as writing or pulling up his pants. When I think of his achievements from that perspective, I stand in awe of this little boy.

Here’s what I hope you will take away from this: Everyone – EVERYONE - deserves your respect until they give you a reason that they don’t. One thing I know for sure? You will never find a population more worthy of your highest regard.


Today, March 6, 2013, is designated as a day to spread the word to end the word. Please join us! Take the pledge. Tell your friends. For Pete's sake, tell your kids! Thank you, thank you, thank you.



Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Many Happy (More or Less) Halloweens


Halloween... the time of year when I can give up, put my gardening gloves away, and just go buy some pumpkins!

I know what you're thinking. Magazine photo? No. My front porch. You can tell by the filthy sidelight windows, the shaggy (but very loved) dog, and the almost rotten black pumpkins. But I do always get excited about hanging my spider webs (an idea I shamelessly stole from Becky Driggs)! All you need to create your own is a yard stick, a box of white chalk, sharp scissors, about five or six white paint pens, an inherent spatial sense, several hours on your hands and knees, the restraint to not swear too badly in front of small children, and a few screen rolls. I only need to hang these for 94 more years to feel that doing all that work was justified.

You can't tell where the pumpkins are caving in because I rotated the bottom one to hide it. Also, when it comes to Photoshop? I'm pretty, pretty, pretty good.




Happy Halloween and Everything Else, Too!






Ben and his class went trick-or-treating together at school. He doesn't know or care about candy (which I plan to support forever since brushing his teeth is akin to kangaroo wrestling), but he clearly enjoyed being my tour guide!

We gathered with neighborhood friends to play and eat before everything got too sweet!


Seeing my kids so happy together is always a treat, but seeing Ben smile while sitting in this spot while dressed in costume is a almost a miracle, like when Mary Lou Retton won all those gold medals or when I won the stock contest in Dr. Baldwin's Financial Management class. (Buy and hold, people, buy and hold.)



This year made me feel especially nostalgic for our first Halloween as a little family of three. John was only seven weeks old, and I was still just getting the hang of our days together.





Our Little Pumpkin, 2003
He is still my little pumpkin today!




2004, the year that brought big changes: new home, new city, new state! We loved living in Brier Creek and still talk about what wonderful, carefree days those were. John was still a little young to go out, but he was great for charming all of our neighbors who stopped by for treats! (And it was so nice to live in a place where the chances of being able to go sock-free on Halloween night were pretty fair!)

2005
We were heavily influenced by Pixar back then. He refused to wear anything on his head or face, but I still thought he was a perfect Buzz. This is one of my favorite pictures ever (except for his hair, which had just been shorn like he was a sheep during a wool shortage. Landy.) We moved back home to Kentucky just a few days after this.

2006
Home in Kentucky again, this was John as Woody at three years old. Took some serious doing (bribery, manipulation, subliminal messages) to convince him to wear a hat at all.

Back then, he could name all the states in alphabetical order, list all the Presidents of the United States in order, and pick out Pete Rose on a poster of the Big Red Machine. In fact, he just had incredible teachers in his Christ Church School 3 year old class. (Can I get an "Amen" for Mrs. Hopmann and Mrs. Booker?) I once asked him to point to the worst president on a poster that had all of their pictures, and he stuck his finger right on Jimmy Carter (bless his heart). Some of my friends would have disagreed with little John, but his genius would likely have been lauded by some former hostages. I just smiled and asked him who the best president was. He said, "You are, Mommy." Maybe he *is* a genius?

Anyway, don't ask him to give you either list today! He's far too focused on sports to bother with things like history and geography. But he can certainly find Pete Rose in a crowd.

We boomeranged back to NC just before his next Halloween:

2007
Allowing your child to sleep with a sugary lollipop in his mouth is just good, common sense parenting.

2008
But if you do it too often, his teeth will end up looking like this. This year, John was Bumblebee (with glow-in-the-dark vampire teeth?), but it's a little hard to tell in this picture. He loved Transformers for about five minutes.

2009
And then he moved on to a ten minute Star Wars obsession. Obi-John Kenobi.

2010
And finally, this year, he was Troy Polamalu. Football is the obsession that I think is going to stick!

Ben
2007
Well, he was certainly SuperBen, but as I've stated before, this was a very difficult time for us. Ben was nearly six months old here, and we were heavily in the denial/confusion/worry stage.

2008
Does this costume look familiar? I wonder if Ben was upset that I dressed him in a hand-me-down costume.

2009
While times had certainly gotten better for our family since his first Halloween, Ben clearly still was heavily in the denial/confusion/worry stage of costuming.

2010
But just look at what a difference a year makes!
Ben as Plex the Magic Robot, following his brother's No Headgear policy.


What was missing this year? Just a few of our favorite people. We missed you, Jackson and Luke!

2008
2009

Friday, October 1, 2010

Everybody Needs a Little Time Away


Earl, Schmearl. When we make plans to come to the beach, all the hurricanes should just plan on turning themselves back out into the Atlantic. We took a big family vacation that was only a few short hours away! Well, for us anyway. Sorry, everyone else. But hey, we were all together and our house had seven bathrooms. Isn't that what's really important?

We stayed here.

And this is the back: home of the cold pool; all the potential splinters; the hammock; pool surfing; the albino crab; a hiding place for a mom trying to read more than four pages of her book; and four happy, laughing little boys.

We, uh, relaxed. Everyone had some hammock time.

And some beach time.

Luke and Jack loved playing "Cornball."

Uncle Matt (or Uncle "Meerkat") taught John how to catch the waves!

Ben and Jackson finally fell in love with each other...
...and had a blast navigating the stairs between the
main level and the "fourth floor" (aka Daddy's office), Lewis and Clark style.

John loved reading to his little cousins, and I loved them all snuggled close together. This lasted for a good three and a half minutes.

There was fishing! Did you know that real fishing does not resemble the iPhone game called Flick Fishing? No, it doesn't. Real fishing requires patience. We don't have that. But we now own two fishing rods, took a nice picture, and saw a snake. So there's that.

There was a Beach Birthday!

Hey. Heyheyhey. For Pete's sake, please do not report me to Cake Wrecks! I have claimed no talent in cake preparation/decoration/presentation.

New Canes jersey!

Getting ready to open Grandmother Jane's and Grandaddy Bob's present, which was:
his first set of real golf clubs!

YESSSSSS! Thanks, Minnie!

Luke and John (in his new Steelers shirt, which has since been worn 87 times)

Luke, John, Jackson, and the new skates

What's the big deal? Should we know about this? Do we need one of those? Mom?

Little Icing Lovers (a genetic trait inherited from Mom/Aunt Laurie)

We learned to play peek-a-boo! Or I suppose he might have been exasperated by all the pictures.


Just the girls: Me with my sister (in-law, but I just like to call her my sister), Laurie, and our beautiful moms, Marcia and Jane.

Sunset Grille in Duck

Hugging Minnie after supper

Photobomb!

Landy was attacked by our four favorite little boys (and loved every second)!

We were terrified by snarling, ferocious bears!

We played Follow the Leader

We found a cute little monkey in a tree. Why, yes, he did make this face for every picture.

Some of us climbed to the top of the Currituck Lighthouse. Some of us didn't. Some of us found this to be a less than relaxing activity.

These two were fine with it.

This one just wanted to hang around (and look extra cute)!

Looking at miles of beautiful peace and quiet from Buck Island in Corolla, NC

We loved the ocean! The sand! The water! In my ears! In my eyes! On my teeth! In my shorts!
Really loved it! Stuffed some extra sand in my pocket for later when I felt hungry!

We practiced for the NFL combine...
...and worked on our punting form.

We were thisclose to being color coordinated!

And we had a wonderful, beautiful, relaxing week. All of us!

Alright. Listen up, boys. We have to go home now. Let's go, okay?

NO! I want to stay forever!

I bet we will get to stay if I use my most very cutest pouty face.

Oh, dear. But I haven't packed yet.

By the way, Mom, please remove these Thomas pajamas from my person as well as from my vast hand-me-down wardrobe. Since I know you have stockpiles of trains and Thomas books just waiting for me to glance in their general direction, I'm planning to not have one speck of interest in any of this Island of Whatever nonsense. Thanks.

Whatchu talkin' 'bout?

Sigh. Well, okay. See you next year, Outer Banks!

A few things we loved in OBX: