Porter totally called me out for bad behavior last night. I signed the boys up for UFit, an activity program at the U that pairs up kids that have disabilities with an individual volunteer. Last night was the first night and the building we needed to get to is just north of the Hunstman Center. Upon entering the parking lot I intended to park in, I was greeted by one of four attendants who informed me that there was a gymnastics meet and I needed to be a blah blah blah member or have a blah blah blah pass in order to park there. I quickly explained that I was actually there to attend a program for my kids. He asked if I was just dropping them off, and in hindsight I should have answered yes and then stolen a parking space after they let me in. Instead, I told him that I needed to go in with them to verify registration, complete a parent interview and meet their partners. “Well, then you’ll have to park in the next lot over.”
Ugh. Really? And then a conversation ensued that went something like, “This is ridiculous. I paid for them to participate in this program and I can’t park here?” “That’s right, only blah blah blah members or a blah blah blah pass will work.” “Tonight is the first night, I wasn’t informed that there would be an event here. I was told I would be able to park here.” “Then I suggest you mention that to the program directors.” “I have a four year old in here. You expect me to walk him across campus?” “Unless you have a blah blah blah pass or are a blah blah blah member, then yes, that’s what you’ll have to do.” By this point I’m not quite yelling, but my voice is raised, I’m frustrated, and obviously not happy.
I take a breath, give up for a moment and let him start giving me directions to another lot. I’m trying to clarify, because I don’t want to be driving around campus lost. The next thing I know, another of the four attendants approaches my window and says, “Mam’ you need to leave now.” To which I reply sternly, “I’m trying to figure where I’m supposed to park.” “Oh, are you telling her?” he says to the first attendant. So after I get the directions, I leave, heated and in a hurry. That’s the gist of what happened anyway.
Porter says, “Mom, what’s wrong? You never get that mad. Why were you so mad?” “I’m mad because I wasn’t planning on not being able to park there. The building we need is just right there, now we have to go park somewhere else.” “But you never get that mad.” Then Porter started to get upset and continued to be confused by my behavior. By the time we reached the parking lot, he was shouting, “You’re not my mom!” and on the verge of tears. I parked and told him to get out of the car as I grabbed Parker and then we all started walking. “You’re not my mom!” and then he reached up to me, put his hands around my neck and pulled, but my head not detaching wasn’t proof enough. “Where was I born?” “In West Jordan.” “What hospital?” “Jordan Valley.” “You’re my mom, but why were you being such a brat? ‘I have a four year old in here.’ Why did you say that?”
That’s when I felt a huge mix of emotions, a little embarrassed and ashamed that I behaved in a way that upset and disturbed Porter, yet proud that the actions were so out of character with how he really sees me that I must really be a pretty patient, calm and kind person. In fact, viewed by an outsider, I probably did look like a brat, an entitled adult diva throwing a fit and trying to get her way. And I must give credit to the attendant, because he totally kept his cool, even smiling throughout as he repeated my one and only option as he attempted to direct me elsewhere. If he hadn’t, the conversation would have escalated and then I would have seemed as mean or cruel to others as I did to Porter.
Though it might sound like it, this is not a post about the upcoming Halloween Holiday. It’s about Porter’s first visit to the psychologist and how I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at various times during the appointment. We are still on our quest to find answers to help Porter with his “condition,” a condition we’re not even sure about. If he doesn’t have cerebral palsy does he have dystonia? And how does the anxiety/OCD behaviors fit in? Though starting him on medication last Spring was definitely helpful, more than helpful, some behaviors are ramping up again.
and I made a last minute decision and signed up. We thought it would be good practice, and a good experience to learn from before we ran our 10K in October. It was not the experience we thought we’d have, but still fun. We did finish in the top 10 (out of a dozen or so people) and we didn’t run a full 5K (the route was about ½ a mile short). But I did run around a 12 minute mile, which surprised me. I knew tand hat I wanted to step it up for the race, but wasn’t quite sure how to keep myself running faster than my normal very slow rate (15 minute mile), and not too fast (interval running) as to burn out. The answer was Cadence, an app for my iTouch. I am not a techie person, but this app is amazing. It took all of the music on my iTouch and arranged it in order by bpm (beats per minute). So I just set it at the bpm I thought would work, and off I went, jogging to the cadence of songs that kept me going and going and going. We finished the race, Lexi before me, and were happy with our efforts. We’re looking forward to our next race!
The walk was fun, as always. Seeing so many cute kids, families having fun, and all of the support was great. Parker especially liked the inflatable slide and obstacle course. We could only get him away from those when he saw the train “zoom” by. It was great to see the performance of Rachel Coleman from Signing Time. Parker was following along in his own way, throwing up his arms, waving his hands, and singing. The walk was short and something Parker wasn’t too interested in, but we made him do it anyway. He survived, but was pretty much done after that. It was a beautiful but hot day, he had been going non-stop for a few hours, and after we ate, he was a crabby and stubborn little guy. Clint took the boys home and Lexi and I stayed for the raffle. Parker did get his name drawn and we got a big bowl full of movie treats. All in all it was a great day. Next year, we’re going to organize a team and do some major fundraising to celebrate Parker turning five. Stay tuned!
This is Porter’s fifth week at school. He’s in fifth grade and I’m trying to stay focused on the here and now because imagining him in junior high two years from now is enough to make me ask for the doctor to up my meds. Porter is definitely a character, very much his own person. He’s still unbelievably social and curious. He still loves to play outside and would probably live outside if we let him. And he’s more technologically advanced than I am. Since he doesn’t have a cell phone, he figured out how to text our phones using his email account. One night I tried it, and after a half hour of not being able to figure it out (we all know how precious time is) I called for Porter to show me how to do it. I still can’t figure out how he did it out in the first place. I think technology will be his saving grace. 
That was Porter’s question to every guy I introduced him to. Porter would extend his arm, grip the guy in a handshake and then ask, “Did you date my mom?” I have to admit that it took me by surprise the first time he asked, but it really shouldn’t have considering Porter’s interest in all things “love.” He’s already proposed marriage, to two girls at once. In kindergarten he got down on bended knee in the lunch room and asked Evie and Maria if they would marry him then held both their hands while waiting in line to go to recess. Though I don’t know if he’s made any other such proposals since then, I do know there have been numerous professions of love. Porter wears his heart on his sleeve, actually more like on his forehead in blazing neon. 
follow up as Parker was off and running for playground equipment. Over an hour later when talking to one of Forrest’s good high school friends I asked, “Where’s Forrest? I haven’t seen him yet.” To which I was told that he was the guy with the beard. So I actually had already seen him not knowing it was him. I immediately headed over with Porter. I couldn’t believe it! Forrest looked like a mountain man. We started talking, I met his beautiful oldest daughter, and I introduced him to Porter who had been staring intently since we had walked up. Porter shook Forrest’s hand and continued to stare. 
I just had a great time catching up with old friends. Some I’ve known since elementary school, others I met in junior high. There were those I didn’t get to know until my senior year in high school, and a few I got to know better at my ten year high school reunion. There was even someone I didn’t know I went to school with that I met over the weekend. I’m sure it’s not hard to figure out that I was at my high school reunion, the 20 year to be exact. A lot of disbelief surrounds the event. The most obvious being that we cannot seriously be 20 years older already. But here we find ourselves, 20 years later, a group of people once bound together by our birthdates, addresses and high school continuing to connect with one another in old and new ways. I saw many former classmates I was hoping to see, but there were many more I would have also loved to catch up with. What a fantastic group of people we shared our childhood with. What varied and fascinating lives we have led over the past 20 years. What amazing perspectives we have to offer one another. How easily we picked up where we left off to enjoy our friendships once again. So does that really mean that the more things change the more they stay the same?
Parker has become a little more independent recently. Though still fairly tiny and nowhere near resembling an almost four-year-old, he is now able to open doors. Shortly after mastering this skill, he accomplished another one, climbing into his crib from the outside, even when the rail was all the way up. We knew that climbing or falling OUT of the crib was soon to follow, so we decided to take the side rail completely off. 
Tonight we tried to put him in the big bed, or I should say the bigger bed since even his crib looks big with him laying in it. He laid down, we shut the door. A bit later we went to check on him, he was back in his crib, and sleeping like the “baby” he is. Clint wants to take the crib down. I’m not sure I’m ready for that so I’ll use the size excuse for as long as I can.