Day Care, Part 3

A couple of weeks ago, I wrote about Raine's experiences in an early intervention program for children with physical or mental delays. These many days later, I'm finally getting around to writing about Sun's experience in a Christian day care center. I apologize for the delay. I wanted to get an audio recording of Sun singing "Let's Go Fly a Kite" so perfectly as he does, so I could post it here and show everyone what a great vocabulary he has at two years old. (One of the perks of being a Grandmom/Mom is that you can gush about your grandchildren unashamedly.) But it was taking too long to actually get that accomplished. That was asking too much of Sun, of the blog, and frankly, of me. However, I did get an "imperfect" and yet engaging performance from Sun, which you can listen to by clicking the attachment below (if I can get it loaded).

Let the Sun Shine

I've had two children and been around a lot more, so I can say with some authority that Sun's communication skills are advanced for his age. I started keeping track when he was 14 months old and spoke 29 clearly articulated words, one of which was "book". A month or more later, he more than doubled the list, with 65 words, including "oxygen" after his sister's oxygen generating machine and tanks were added to our household decor. I lost count around 17 months and by 20 months, he was speaking in 3-4 word sentences. He could sing his ABCs, recognize people from pictures and say their names (including "Obama!"), and ask for just about anything he wanted. He made observations about the world around him. Once in a woman's office, he heard a train whistle from some distance away and said, "Train, Mama." The woman was so amazed not only because he said this, but because she had worked in her office for years and never heard a train go by.

Not long after 21 months, I noticed Sun using similes and metaphors. That's when I knew--I needed to get him into some kind of formal learning environment because he was quickly going to exceed my teaching abilities. So I started looking for classes and day care centers, which I wrote about in an earlier post. That's when I ran into the "High-Cost-of-Daycare" wall.

I'm happy to say that Sun is now enrolled in a Christian day care center that we all like. It has a friendly, professional, caring staff; a wonderfully colorful, diverse, and expansive facility; a website, a newsletter, a camera in every room so parents can observe their children; parent meetings, daily reports, lessons in values and world cultures (!); and (this is what I really love) a big comfy sofa in every classroom.

All of this is not cheap. Sun attends only one day a week. It's what we can afford. At first, this appeared to be a problem. Sun cried when we arrived on our one morning a week. But yesterday, for the first time, he did not shed one tear! He let go of his Dada's hand and joined the class at snack time. When I picked him up later, he did not cry. He was glad to see me, ready to go, but he didn't look as if he thought, "You found me! Get me out of here." He told me on the way home, "I want to go to school AGAIN!"

His teachers report he is always polite, active, talkative, and loves the playground. He asks for the potty (sometimes). He makes wonderful art/science projects. The latest is one of those telephones you make with two toilet paper rolls and string. This arrangement appears to be working out well.

There is a down side. Today, Sun is running a fever and throwing up. The same thing happened with Raine last week. Their pediatrician said there's a bug going around. As Charlie Brown would say, "Rats!" Last week, a notice came home with Raine saying, "Your child may have been exposed to head lice."

"Good grief!"

Venturing out into the larger world, being stimulated by other sites, sounds, and people, learning, growing, having fun--all that is great. The colds, the germs, it's all part of the experience. Just means we have to be even more diligent.

I am a "Wiping-Noses" Mom Again,

signing off.

Day Care, Part 2

Both Sun and Raine are now attending “school” part time. How did that all come about and how much does it cost? How is it working out so far? Today, I’ll blog about Raine, and the next blog will be about Sun.

Raine is a Lake.

I’ll answer the last question first. So far, so good. Raine, who is now 20 months old, has shown great physical and mental growth in the last several weeks. She stands up, she cruises, she walks with help. She still scoots but she's starting to crawl. She's actually doing this wierd combination of the two. She's communicating better, saying more words, and using sign language. She can say “eat,” in both English and sign language. She can say "more" in both. Raine likes to eat, eats a lot, and eats just about anything. She’s like Mikey. On the daily report from her teacher, under snacks it says, “Ate it all." So it's not surprising she's mastered those two words.

Raine is attending an Early Intervention Program at a school run by Easter Seals. She goes to "school" four times a week, for two and a half hours. She is in a classroom with a half dozen other students who are all slightly older. She hardly ever cries, and she plays well with (or around) the others. She gets speech therapy, physical therapy, and occupational therapy from specialists who come to her classroom. The school is housed in a beautiful new facility, with a youthful and friendly staff.

And it is all paid through the local "Help Me Grow" program, which identifies children with delays and helps get them enrolled. The goal of the EIP is to help children with mental or physical delays overcome as many as they can before age 3. It’s a wonderful goal, and it's made possible, believe it or not, through the "No Child Left Behind" legislation. (However, there are massive waiting lists because of insufficient funding.)

I used to wonder if Raine was mentally delayed. Not just because she wasn’t walking and talking, or that she was an extreme preemie, which increases the chances of a child having mental retardation. It was, also, a certain expression she showed sometimes, a look in her eyes that said, "I'm just not getting it. Life is confusing. I don't want to THINK about it!"

Raine’s eyes are so expressive and dramatic. They are big and brown, and her lashes are thick, long, and curled. When she first came home from the hospital after being hooked up to oxygen, feeding tubes, and monitors in a NICU for the first three months of her life, she looked at us with mistrust. As if she were saying, “Okay, how attached do I get to you before the next shift comes in and takes your place?” I would tell her over and over that she was home now. She could relax. But Raine definitely had a “wait and see” approach. I thought she had a problem forming emotional attachments.

Gradually, though, she began to trust us. Gradually, she began to know she belonged to us and we to her. Her eyes no longer showed suspician. Instead, sometimes, I found a look of incomprehension, that vacant look you get when you're asked a question and you don't know the answer.

I no longer see that look in Raine's eyes. Since she started school (actually, a couple of weeks before that), that vacant look has been replaced with curiosity , discovery, and devilment. Her expression says, “What is that? What can it do? How does it taste? What happens if I push that button? What happens if I push it again even though Mama said not to?"

Her teachers report, "Raine had a wonderful day." Perhaps they say that about every child to keep you coming back. But I see the “wonder” in Raine’s eyes now.

One morning I was still sleeping when Sun came to my bed and said, “Raine is a lake.”

“Sun?” I said, through my sleep fog.

“Mama.”

“Yes, Sun.”

“Raine is a lake!”

“A what?”

“A lake.”

Sun pronounces his W’s as L’s.”

“A lake. Raine is a lake,” he said.

“Ooh,” I said, “awake. Raine is awake.”

“Yes,” Sun said, “a lake.”

That’s what I see in Raine's eyes now. She’s awakened from her preemie fog. It’s exciting to see, and I can’t wait to be a part of what’s to come.