English Language Learners

Where I work we have several employees for whom English is a second language. I don't interact with them directly very often, only about HR issues. But when I do, I'm always struck by how their use of English is so similar to The Boy's. Or maybe I should say The Boy's use of language is similar to theirs; almost as if English is a second language for him.

Last weekend The Boy was outside riding his bike. I'll say that again, he was riding his bike. Still so amazing to me. Anyway, I went outside to check on him and saw blood running down his leg. It looked like he had fallen off the bike and scraped up his leg. Without a word or any tears, typical. And worrisome, but that is a topic for another post.

When I asked him if he got hurt his reply was "Yes. My leg is not feel good." He didn't say my leg hurts, or my leg is bleeding, or even my leg doesn't feel good. He said "My leg is not feel good." Not exactly how any of us would say that. His point was clear enough, anyone would understand his message. It's just different, and a little awkward. And is usually one of the first signs to strangers that he is unique. Perhaps I should just tell them that he is an English Language Learner.

Now, if I could just figure out what his native tongue is...

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Living in a Literal World

The Boy loves his pajamas. And I mean, he LOVES them. If we are at home, he has pajamas on. As soon as he gets home from school, he changes. He has a fond preference for the all cotton (no fire retardant), long sleeve, long pant, form fitting pajamas that look like long johns. I'm convinced this is because he likes the pressure it gives him all over his body. He craves deep pressure. But that really has nothing to do with this post.

Today when he was trying to change into his pajamas after school (which takes considerable effort on his part due to his motor planning skills) he was putting them on backwards. They were halfway up his legs with the tag in the front. I looked at what he was doing and casually said "the tag needs to go in back." 

I watched as he took them off, looked at me quizzically and then proceeded to put them behind his back. Then he looked at me quizzically again not knowing what to do next. I couldn't help it, I started laughing. 

"The tag needs to go in back". Such a simple statement I probably told my older boys a gazillion times to make sure they put their pants and shirts on the right direction. Most kids know exactly what you mean. Not The Boy. What he heard was "the tag needs to go on your back" and that was all. The implied "when they are on your body" just wasn't there for him. So he put the tag on his back and looked at me for what to do next. 

I probably shouldn't have laughed. But it was funny. Or heartbreaking. I prefer to go with funny. I'd rather laugh than cry. 

Wordless Wednesday - How Big is Your Airport?

Tired

I love The Boy more than life itself. And I wouldn't change a hair on his head. He is just the way he is supposed to be, made perfectly. But that doesn't mean I don't get overwhelmed sometimes. And frustrated. And just plain tired. Yesterday was one of those days. A day for a small pity party and a good cry. I. Was. Tired.

I sent the following email to my sister: 

Crap. I'm having one of those days where I'm just so damn tired of it all. I just want one calm, easy morning where I don't have to make a juice cocktail or administer meds. Where I don't have to sprinkle enzymes on everything. One day where I don't have to pin him to the floor just to brush his teeth or chase him through the house to brush his hair. One quiet morning where I don't have to listen to the school schedule 84 times before the bus arrives. Hell, one morning where I don't have to make the exact same toast and scrambled eggs for breakfast. I just want one peaceful shower, just one! I'm just so tired of it all. It's the same damn thing every day; lather, rinse, and repeat. I'm old and I'm tired.

I used to feel guilty for these feelings. But you know what? I'm human. I'm allowed to feel what I'm feeling. It doesn't mean I love my son any less. Or wish he was different. We all get overwhelmed and frustrated and just plain tired sometimes. Its OK, really it is. For me, its important to acknowledge these feelings. Vent to someone who understands. Get it out. And then move on with my day. 

After The Boy got on the bus, I had a good cry. And then I got ready for my day and left for work.