(Just in case you were wondering, school cafeterias haven’t changed one bit since you were a student.)

While there, one of the lunch ladies came up to me to ask if I’m Bito’s mom.  When I acknowledged that I am, she laughed a little.  Then she relayed a conversation she’d recently had with my son.  She said by looking at him, she could tell he was part Asian, so she’d asked if either his Mommy or Daddy was Asian.

Apparently, Bito thought about it for a moment, and then answered her: “Well, my mommy is American…and my daddy is American too.”

That’s my boy.

What am I going to do once The Crew discovers there is no man in a red suit who delivers presents on Christmas?

I mean, I’m all about advancing the Santa myth.  Heck, I believe in Santa Claus (though not necessarily in the traditional sense).  I wrote about him last year (and that post continues to get the most hits of any on my blog!).

In any case, I had a sudden attack of guilt when I was threatening Bito with calling Santa Claus because his behavior has been so atrocious this morning.  And then I thought:  OMG.  One day I will have to look Bito in the eye and admit there is no Santa Claus.  He’s going to give me the most reproachful face and wonder why I lied to him all this time.  Because, you see, Bito buys it hook-line-and-sinker.  He loves Santa Claus and I think he’ll be extremely disappointed to discover it’s Mommy and Daddy who have been doing all the Santa-Clausing all this time.

I dropped my calling-Santa-threat and retreated to my computer to pour out my guilt-ridden heart here.  I don’t know what to do, but I guess I don’t have to do anything about it right now.  I still have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day to get through…then maybe I’ll be able to move past my guilt.  I’m all for tabling it until next year.

Merry Christmas!

Of course, I am more anxious for The Husband’s arrival on those days. The Crew must smell a weakness in me, because they are exceptionally squirrely.

We had one of those days recently. After battling with the kids for a bit, I threw my hands up in surrender. Since the weather was nice, I decided to take The Crew to a nearby dollar store. It’s just a short walk, so Bito and Cupcake hopped along as BabyMuffin got a ride in the stroller.

Once there, Bito quickly picked out a truck, but just as quickly, he changed his mind and chose a wiggly, jelly bug instead. Cupcake considered her choices carefully, first eyeing a horse-on-a-stick toy, then fingering the dolls. A bouquet of fake flowers earned a moment of reflection, as did a ceramic figurine. However, when she spied the candy, she focused all her attention on choosing the perfect candy that would maximize her dollar purchase. Bito ditched the wiggly bug and also perused the candy as if it were a matter of life and death to pick out the best candy.

I marveled as I watched my older two children choose anything they wanted for a dollar. It amazed me how it delighted them to have such a surprise, special treat that day.

Moments later, we were on our way out the door, Cupcake happily munching on a candy necklace, and Bito opening a whistle filled with bubble-gum. So maybe their dinners were spoiled, maybe they’d have a sugar crash later on, maybe they’d come to expect special dollar store treats more often than I was willing to give them. I didn’t care, though. That one trip brought joy and peace to my otherwise difficult afternoon–for the mere price of $2.

Well, lots of things.  But today, I’m going to give in and actually tell you by posting a rare rant in my blog.

Bito’s public school and Cupcake’s private preschool are currently running the same fundraiser that all the other schools in the DC Metro area are no doubt running.

I hate that my children are little salespeople that are sent out to raise money for their schools.

And yes, it’s really me that is doing it because I’m not about to let Bito and Cupcake hawk the products of this company, even if their schools will receive 50% of all sales profits.  I’m not about to put the burden of raising money for their schools on their little heads.

I get angry reading the info sheets that come home with thick envelope of the latest fundraiser.  I’m afraid my kid will be the only one who doesn’t sell something and therefore, won’t receive a “prize.”  I don’t want Bito and Cupcake not to get some cheap little toy that everyone else will get because they sold one, ten, a hundred or a zillion items.  I don’t want my child to be sad because they don’t get to attend the Ice Cream Social because they didn’t bring in $xxx amount of orders.

And so I dutifully ask neighbors and family members if they’d be interested in supporting Bito and Cupcake.  I send out emails with the online codes that can be used for out of area friends and family.  I half-heartedly tout the awesomeness of the products in an effort to get some orders.

I don’t like it.  I feel guilted into getting some orders so my kid won’t be sad he/she didn’t get some little toy or a scoop of ice cream.

And while I’m on a rant, let me just say that what really burns is that this fundraising has to be done in the first place, especially in public schools.  This is my children’s education, for crying out loud!  Supposedly it’s an investment for the future of the country, too, right?  Why are the schools forced to to get money in such a fashion?  There is something wrong here!

Sadly, this will be a part of my life for the next twenty-some years as my three children progress through school.  The Husband and I are committed to public education and will do what we need to do.  You’ll probably hear this rant every September from me.

And if you want to order anything…let me know.

Not quite sure how I feel about this because my emotions change on a moment-by-moment basis.  Elated, thrilled, sad, nervous, melancholy, excited…

I am pleased with the school and he has a great teacher.

I am sure he will do great.

Will I?

I’m not sad or anxious in a, “My baby is leaving!” sort of way.  Instead, I am afraid my sweet baby boy’s exquisite self won’t be known.  Yes, I freely admit that as his mother (and the person he has spent the most time with in his entire life!), I think he’s truly awesome.  He’s a complex one, my Bito.  It takes some time getting to know and appreciate him, and that process can be difficult.  But oh, how I love him and want him to be known.

I trust that his teacher, whoever he or she is, will see my child in a different light.  I’ve experienced this when I was a teacher, with my students.  Parents and teachers see the same child with different lenses.  I hope Bito is the one who introduces himself to his teacher–not me.  I know I can talk about my son until I am blue in the face, but I also know Bito’s behavior and personality with others is different than what he is with me…so I hope he “unfolds” himself to his teacher on his own.  I want to be a part of the school/home relationship but not overstep my boundaries by “showcasing” Bito to his teacher.

I wonder if my experience as a teacher will help me nurture a good teacher-parent relationship, or just make me bad at it?  I know it’s a partnership, but it’s my first time being The Parent in this partnership!

I look forward to seeing my son Bito the Student.  I look forward to seeing him from his teacher’s lens.

…

(Am I doing a good job of giving myself a pep talk?  Am I being realistic?  Will I look back on this post in six months and wonder what I was smoking??)

Well, no, not quite.  Bito wakes, but he does not get up and actually go to the bathroom.  Instead, he sits in his bed and whimpers.  And calls out.  And then screams.  Until someone gives him permission to get out of bed.  Yeah.  Apparently we taught him too well when he moved into his Big Boy Bed–he stayed put until someone went to get him in the mornings or after naptime.

So anyway.  Imagine how happy we are in the wee hours of the morning to be roused from deep sleep by a screaming five year old.  Not only are The Husband and I wakened, Bito manages to get us all up since Cupcake and he share a room, and BabyMuffin’s room is between ours.  Party of five in the middle of the night!  What joy.  It’s family bonding I never imagined.

We’ve told Bito that he should just Get Up and Go!  Night-lights have been placed to illuminate his way.  We’ve role-played his actions.  We’ve used Little People as models.  And yet, he continues to call family meetings nearly every night.  *sigh*

Maybe we should just teach Cupcake to be the one to give Bito permission to get up as soon as he starts whimper.  At least some of the family could get some sleep that way!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’m known to tell my children that I am The Giver of Life-after all, they grew inside my body for nine-ish months, then allowed passage through my privates to be borne into this world.  After that, my body sustained their young lives as I fed them from my body for months (since none of them would reliably take a bottle).

Five years ago this month, I gave birth to my oldest child.  Bito was born in a small birthing center in Japan, thousands of miles away from here.  I became a mother that day!  I was in such shock that I didn’t realize what was happening and how my life would change.  I mean, sure, I knew I’d been pregnant and now had a newborn by my side.  I was prepared with impossibly small clothes and all the baby gear given to me at various showers.  And I knew The Husband and I would be responsible for this new life for at least 18 years, but probably more.

Being a mother has been much more than just the surviving Bito’s babyhood, which is all I focused on for those first few months.  As sweet as that baby stage was for us (Bito was an incredibly easy baby), watching him grow has been much more delightful.  Seeing a whole person develop from that small big bundle of joy that was laid on my lap the moment he was born has been such a blessing.

In five years, I’ve learned to appreciate small things. Bito’s small fingers tucked into my palm.  His quiet, even breathing as he sleeps is such a comfort (and a relief!) to me each evening.  How I can see in his face my own expressions.  The wonder of watching anthills or collecting pebbles with him.  All these things make me look forward to all that is to come (well, maybe not all!).

I never knew how much my heart would soar when Bito unexpectedly says, “Thanks Mommy!” for taking him to someplace fun.  I never knew that I would tear up after seeing him tenderly comforting his baby sister.  I didn’t know that seeing another child rebuff my son’s friendly advances would make me want to throttle them.  I never knew that watching my son’s development falter would leave me questioning exactly how and when I failed my son.

Seeing him hit milestones means he’s become less and less dependent on me.  No longer does he need The Giver of Life.  I just hope he still wants me around.

A bit of background:  in 2006, after many tests, evaluations and interviews with the county’s Early Intervention team, we were told Bito has a language delay, most prominently in pragmatic language, i.e. making conversation. He began receiving services in spring of 2006 at home.  When he started preschool, the Early Intervention teacher(s) started going to his preschool to work with him there.

Ms. D is impressed with Bito’s improvements in his usage of language.  She noted several examples of Bito speaking to teachers and friends.  I am pleased with how he is making conversation with people familiar to him.  I am concerned, however, in Bito’s interactions in new situations and with new people, so we talked about that for awhile.

As we were closing up our pleasant conversation, I asked her the same question I’ve asked at each progress and IEP meeting:  “Ms. D, will we be given a diagnosis of Bito being on the autism spectrum or having Asperger’s syndrome?”  And Ms. D responded with the same response she’s given at each meeting, essentially saying, “Why do you need to know?  He’d be receiving the same early intervention services he is currently receiving no matter what label he might be given.”

As frustrating as her response is, I know she is not purposefully being coy or difficult.  I understand she and the county’s Early Intervention team are not diagnosticians, thus she is not willing to say if she believes Bito is on the spectrum or if she thinks he has Asperger’s.  Ms. D went on to tell me an autism diagnosis is a medical one and we would need to see a pediatric specialist for further evaluations, if that’s what we want to pursue.

I am torn.  The Husband is comfortable not having an actual label applied to Bito.  I am not so sure.  I just want to know, one way or another.  I’m tired of second guessing myself and constantly studying Bito for signs of something that may or may not be there.