Mother's Day musings

A New Yorker cartoon

In these parts we don't have a Mother's Day any more. We used to. In fact we had a separate day for each parent as well as a Children's Day. The powers-that-be finally came to their senses and consolidated them into a single Family Day ( but not the second Sunday in May). Our hybrid day is only noted in kindergartens and lower elementary school grades, usually with a plant and hand-made card.

I can't say I miss the original set-up. Birthday pampering does me fine...

I have been diligent about sitting C. backwards in a regular chair almost daily (see Spotlight on sitting). She has progressed to a half an hour of this with ease. I wish I could report similar progress in the walking arena. Unfortunately, the opposite is true: C.'s  Medek walking has deteriorated  over the last few months. She has lost some of her old stamina. After about fifteen minutes, she stops stepping independently with her right leg and is less steady and straight. She used to walk at her peak for over a half an hour.

The seating expert thought that growing taller might be the reason. But C. doesn't seem to have grown noticeably in recent months. I persevere and push C., hoping she'll spring back. But this descent seems to be here to stay.

At least she's holding her own in the Rifton walker. At times, she takes longer steps with her right leg and also bends her left leg to begin a step without any prompting.

I find myself watching the walking children - even those with a walker, barely moving - so longingly. Raising C. would be monumentally different if she could - to any extent - walk independently.  

A favorite parent/blogger of mine is back at his keyboard after a lengthy hiatus that sent his commenters into a panic. Here's his new Mother's Day quip:

Pearlsky (his disabled daughter) came home with something they made in “class” for their moms. Wonderful. No clue what it was (something with soap and sugar?). I told the aide she could keep it and think of us. If it wasn’t drool, Pearlsky didn’t make it.

In our family, we marvel at the works of art C. brings home. Here's our line:

She must be utterly transformed when she walks through those school doors - she never makes masterpieces like those at home.

How do you react to your child's "very own" art projects?