My poor, sweet Gavin. We've pushed him so hard to use his canes more (otherwise known as arm crutches). He's even got a deal right now with Jeff that he can earn $1.00 for every day that he uses his canes all day. Gavin is working hard to earn enough money to buy a new game for the Wii. And, he's been dedicated.
But, let's face it. His canes are not as stable as his walker or his wheelchair. And, he's five. So, he's not the most observant. He doesn't notice papers on the ground or a welcome mat or countless other things that trip him up. And, he definitely doesn't notice little spots of water.
At his back-to-school night, Gavin was valiantly walking through the halls - gathering the typical stares and smiles of admiration. The administrators had blocked off the corner with tables to sign up for PTA - making the corner tight around the water fountain. And, just as we rounded the corner, I yelled for Gavin to stop. But, it was a split second too late and he was down on his knees, angry that I had not given him enough warning. Because - as you could guess - he's very sensitive about feeling so unstable. He gets really upset when anyone makes him feel off-balance.
So . . . back to this Friday's events. Jeff and I - and the babies - all went to school in the morning to volunteer at the school's Walk-a-thon. We walked/spun with Gavin (in his chair) and jogged/walked with Autumn (who, by the way, set a goal the night before to get 10 laps - and was so proud that she accomplished her goal . . . and Mommy was super proud that she followed through).
Afterwards, Jeff grabbed lunch with Johnny and I took care of the boys. While I was putting Gage down for his nap, he coughed so hard he puked everywhere. Yes, everywhere. After his bath, my wash down and a fresh change of clothes for everyone, the glider and the floor . . . I finally went to the library to work on an uber big report that was due by the end of the day (since Jeff had cancelled our internet access the night before - to set up a new one on Monday).
About two hours in, Jeff sent me a note to come home and feed Garrett. I called Jeff on the short drive home and heard those dreaded words a minute into the conversation, "I GOTTA GO!"
I walked in to see Jeff wiping up the last drops of blood from the floor. I wasn't even sure who or where he was referring to when his first words were, "he's going to need stitches."
This is why . . . prepare yourself . . .
Gavin was a trooper. He came home happy as a clam. He never complained about it again.
He showed me his stitches and described, in his five-year-old way, that his whole chin was numb.
The next day he said that his chin tickled.
This kid amazes me.
But, I'll be honest . . . part of me wants to put those canes up high on a shelf and revert back to something else way more stable. I told him he was not allowed to fall again. Ever.
But, he also has a way of not listening exactly.
I can live with tough love. With pushing him beyond the limits that he thinks he has.
But, I've had to watch on the sidelines as he cries through difficult medical procedures. To watch as he stays behind when the other kids go somewhere that even his canes can't take him.
And, I'll be honest. It's awful. My heart aches for him. And, I try to make sure that all he sees on my face is a smile of encouragement . . . when I'm just crumpling inside.
Yes, I cried on his first day of kindergarten - like so many other moms - as he got on that big yellow bus. But, I also cried three days later when I watched him be lifted up on the automatic lift (because the district refuses to let him work to get up the first step) and bravely maneuver to his seat. To sit alone. Every day. On that big yellow bus all by himself. Not one single friend that can sit with him. Ever.
Oh man. That's tough.
I've got a lot to learn from Gavin about courage and attitude and perseverance. He's amazing.
Attitude is everything (*she says with a lump in her throat*).
