goodfountain

Recently I was told one of the most weight-lifting statements that I have heard in a long, long time. It went like this: “You can stop being her therapist now and go back to just being her Mom again.” Whew. I audibly sighed. And then I nearly cried.

The “her” is Chee, my 3 1/2 year old. She has some developmental delays and has been in the Big 3 Therapies for the last almost-year. The Big 3 being Speech, Occupational and Physical. A couple of months ago, I started the evaluation and enrollment process in our local school district to see if she qualified to attend the public “special needs” preschool. She does. Yesterday was her first day. It was “awesome” I was told by the teacher!

The relieving statement came a week ago in our IEP meeting. If you’ve never been in an IEP meeting, it can be a little overwhelming. By nature of why you’re there, to see if you child has a disability (really hate that word), the meeting is rather negative. The evaluation focuses on what your child can’t do. Sitting for an hour and a half discussing everything your child is unable to do is, well, frankly, it’s depressing.

I don’t see my daughter as a list of Unables and Can’ts. She’s just Chee. With the big laugh and the sneaky grin. Who loves to eat a popsicle right after playing in the snow. Chee who loves the alphabet and is teaching herself to read. I see her Cans and Ables. I could go on and on about how smart she is, but I won’t. At least not right now. Unless you ask. Then I won’t stop.

However, I know she’s delayed and I’ve been playing the role of therapist every single day to help her build her skills. We do many a fine and gross motor task throughout the day. And I exaggerate my speaking to role model appropriate conversation skills for her. At times I overwhelm myself with sticky notes all over the fridge listing fun, fine motor-skill-building games we can play. Stringing beads. Playing with pop beads. Tearing paper. Rolling playdoh. Using tongs. Gluing bits of paper. Putting coins in a piggy bank. The list goes on.

Then there is the ladder and balance beam my husband crudely fashioned for her to work on her balance. Proudly displayed in our living room. Without realizing it, I had become Therapist first, Mom second.

I was turning every game, every activity, every conversation into an opportunity for therapy. I even made a game of turning the corner and walking the balance beam on the way to the kitchen.

Fear not for Chee’s happiness though. She loves to “play for beads” and tells me near daily, “I want some money for my peeegy bank!”

When reviewing her IEP at last week’s meeting, I found myself nodding along and saying, “Okay, we can work on this at home, too, but I’m really glad she’ll be getting more help here, kind of takes the pressure off me if I skip something.”

That’s when the liaison stopped me. And with those 16 sweet and relieving words, I went back to being Mom first.

And today, with school canceled because of Snow, I had more fun playing with her than I’ve had in a long, long while.