We’ve been doing this for two years now and I see the benefits outweigh the problems.
My three sons are on different journeys. All three have different modalities to learning. While this can be perceived as an acrobatic feat, it meets my individuals where they are in their learning.
The youngest has been in homeschool for several years, but has impairment. Teaching him has been so rewarding because he’s had more learning to do. His education has focused on rehabilitation from his tragic accident ten years ago. We thought he would never walk. He does that now.
My middle son has other challenges. He struggles with himself. He is gifted but lacks confidence. Giving him the opportunity to learn at his own pace has improved his confidence.
My eldest has the combination of both worlds. He is incredibly talented with certain modalities of learning that are not accessible in the regular school curriculum. He had to be homeschooled so that his curriculum would reflect his desired learning. Left with the track system in his past school would have caused a severe rejection of learning.
It’s unfortunate that the public and private school sectors don’t have the flexibility of homeschooling. I’m grateful for my teaching degree because I have the knowledge of curriculum design with the parental knowledge of my students to help them succeed in their learning.
This is so true to me now because of my experience with three days of hurricane. The whole time the wind was blowing, I kept thinking about the storm the disciples were in and how afraid they were to the point of waking Jesus. I held onto that visual all three days. I am so thankful. We truly are small in comparison to Nature, yet we have indefinite influence. Think twice. Act once.
My work is never finished. I rise before the dawn often coming from a two hour nap just hours before. He’s been striving to achieve, and I’m thankful. I never know when the miracle comes, and it’s better that way. I persist because of this. I believe he does his best to maintain reciprocity.
It’s these moments I feel it necessary to be his cheerleader.
He manifests progress in mysterious ways. He learns to creep his achievements. Using his strong right hand to hold onto the counter top, he shifts his weight to host his body, while moving towards the sink. Then, as if he changed his mind, he turns his body around, holding with one hand then switching to his weakest hand to hold on the counter. All the while he has nothing to balance himself except for his legs.
I froze as I watched him work this out for the first time.
“Take your time”, I encouraged.
Step by slow, deliberate step. He did it! When he reached me, I pulled him into a big hug. He looked up at me, smiling with great pride.
I’m all about trying to find ways to be healthy. Food seems to be an easier way sometimes since getting outside can be harder. Plus it proves to be a win-win for all involved. I get to be creative, the men in my home get tasty food and everyone dies good for their bodies. Especially since one of my guys has hypotonia. This strongly forgotten and ever present phenomena is culprit to a lot of chronic constipation and medical fragility.
Hypotonia means lack of muscle tone in the body. It means a need for exercise and/or dietary restrictions. The right amount of fiber from vegetables helps the body.
Coincidentally or not, my son has developed regularity since September 27, 2021. After tracking on a daily basis, I noticed that his hypotonia is less of a variable when the Vegas Nerve Stimulator has a new battery. Everything flows.
We haven’t had to track fiber every day. As long as he eats some fiber combined with the daily water intake each day, he achieves what most elderly don’t.
The bigger test or confirmation of what occurs will happen when we see the battery losing battery life. Will we be using more meds to counter the chronic constipation?
Only steady observation and tracking will help me to find the answers.
Here I sit with my disabled son. I love him and yet, I’m frustrated to the brink of a primal scream. I know, I should be ashamed of myself. Not everyone can do this. This job that I have without monetary compensation, but lots of spiritual reward. I’m thankful for his delightful demeanor. He likes to laugh and play using my hands to clap. He seems to be happy all the time, even when he’s sick. He gets sick often. With music playing, he bops up and down with the rhythm of the song. He’s feeling better after having a miserable week of refusing food, drink and anything fun. His ear infection seems as though it left, but I’m still required to be at his side. He’s weak from not walking. Watching him all night has left me drained and tired, ready to use the hard wood floor as my bed and pillow. But I hold off and wait for the opportunity to have someone else watch him while I close my eyes for moments at a time. My hope for sleeping at a normal time has slipped through my hands as I receive a phone call from the night nurse. She can’t make it tonight. It shouldn’t matter. I usually work two nights and two days in a row, but it does matter. Maybe it’s because I was looking forward to a lost opportunity to sleep for more hours than the typical four. Or maybe it matters because the five consecutive years of his needs have escalated to a cliffhanging level. Irony can be a humble teacher because as of this day (4/18/21), I am the official night nurse. I have all seven nights to watch. My night nurse is now the day nurse. Life has a funny way of teaching us to appreciate the situation present because life happens.