As many of you know, in September I began a new job. I am a Functional Core Para for a Special Ed class. There are eleven wonderful, bright, feisty, children in “my” class. Nine of them are non-verbal.

One little boy, “Henry”, is quite challenging. He is a runner, which means he will take every opportunity he can to run out of the classroom. Henry has to be kept busy the entire school day. Any down at all for him involves running, or, him taking off his clothes. When he is busy he is productive, when he is being productive he has no time to think about running or taking clothes off.

I have been assigned to Henry. The goal is to establish a bond, which would then establish a routine, which would then help him in those moments where he does not quite know what to do with himself. For the past few weeks, Henry and I have gotten to know each other pretty well. I have learned that he will pretty much do whatever I ask if I have gummy worms or therapy putty on hand. I have learned that no matter how many times I say “time to go back to the classroom” Henry will have to push the bright red elevator button just once, and once the doors open, he is ready to go back to class. Henry loves pasta, and from what I can tell, I need to ask his mom for the recipe because it looks amazing when I warm it up for him every day at 11:35.

Henry and I have a pretty good routine going for us. Every morning Mom drops him off and I take over. “Come on Henry, let’s do some work.” He hangs up his backpack, grabs his lunchbox while trying to sneak a snack out of it. Together we then go to our little private cubicle, where he can not escape. Henry starts munching on his snack that he thinks I did not see him retrieve while I prepare his class work.

You guys, I cannot adequately explain to you how smart this kid is. He is non-verbal, but knows his colors, knows his numbers and “talks” through the use of an amazing app on the Ipad. You give it time, I will call it now. By the end of the school year, he will have a nice vocabulary going on.

After Henry finishes his snack and class work, he has now earned his “prize.” His prize is going out to the Big Playground. In the early morning hours, when everything is wet and cold, Henry is in his element on the Big Playground with no one else out there, other than “Your’s Truly” over here. Together, we walk the perimeter, making sure to stop at all the grated water drains so he can throw rocks in. As soon as we get close enough to the set of 50 plus stairs that leads to the upper parking lot, Henry and I have a talk that goes a little something like this. “Okay Henry, I am tired. I am still drinking my coffee. I beg you, if just for today, please do not make a run for the stairs. You are crazy fast and I am not. And then, with my luck, I will trip and fall on the stairs while trying to chase you, and you will just laugh at how clumsy I am and then no one will find us (me.) So I beg you, today, let’s not run to the stairs.”

Some days he listens, while laughing at how out of shape I really am.

I would say Henry and I are pretty tight. I am not too sure if he agrees with my assessment, but I am the adult so he is overruled.

Then, today happened.

Henry and I had a pretty good day. Probably one of the better ones. I think both Henry and I were just tired from the long school week. We had an understanding. It will be a “chill” day. About ten minutes before I take him outside to meet his Mom for pickup, I say to Henry “Time to put your shoes and socks on so we can go meet Mom.” He gets up from his spot under the desk and sits down in a chair. As I am handing him his shoes and socks, he does something I have never seen before. Quickly, he gets up, while screaming and throws the computer off of the desk. I ask him “Henry, what’s wrong?!” He screams more and then starts to cry. Tears are streaming down his face. I look to the teacher for help. Within seconds the teacher is by Henry’s side, with an Ipad in hand. Hoping that through the Ipad Henry can tell us what is wrong. A few of the other Paras start to surround Henry. I am frozen. I cannot speak. I need to tell them to give him some space, but I can’t. I can feel the tears forming. I have to talk myself down. Henry and the teacher are now under the desk together. The teacher is desperately trying to find out what is wrong. Henry is agitated. Next thing I know, Henry gets up, throws the baby gate that is blocking the door and heads outside to meet his Mom. You guys, I have never jumped over that baby gate so fast. I went to Henry, gave him his shoes and socks, and maybe a few gummy worms I had on me. As I am putting his shoes on, his Mom walks up. “Hi! How did it go today?”

You guys, I start to cry. I am not even kidding. I do not know what it was. I just think her asking “How did it go today?” did it for me. Henry is now playing on the Little Playground, Henry’s Mom comes up to me with a look of fear on her face, and I am in a full-blown “ugly cry.” I can barely utter the words “Henry is fine. Well, for a short moment he was not fine, but he is fine now, but, I am so sorry. I feel so bad. I do not know what happened.”

Trying to catch my breath between the full-blown ugly cry, I tell her everything I just told you. In the corner of my eye, I see my fellow Paras come to the door. They see my mascara all over my face. I imagine they tell the teacher “You better go out there. New Girl is losing it.” Henry’s Mom listens to me, then, she comes to give ME a hug! “Awww. it’s okay. I understand. We have been through it. You want to help but you do not know how because he cannot talk.”

Naturally, the tears do not stop.

Henry’s little brother has now joined us. He sees “Crazy Para Crying Woman” and hands me a picture of a pumpkin. “Here, I drew this for you.”

I can’t.

The teacher comes out in record time. As soon as I see him, I cry even more. “I am so sorry I suck at this!” He goes up to Mom and tells the same story I just told her. I am standing there crying, Henry is on the slide, and his little brother is most likely regretting giving me a picture that was meant for his Mom.

The teacher looks at Mom, he is kinda smiling and kinda laughing while looking at me. “See, she has a heart for your son. There is no going back now.”

Henry’s Mom tells me I am doing great. She tells me not to worry, he does this stuff all the time. But….I just felt so, so helpless. I wanted to make things better for Henry and I could not. In my short time with him, I had never seen this behavior.

Eventually, we all said our goodbyes, and I may have just given Henry my last stash of gummy worms.

Once Henry, Mom, and Little Brother are safely in their car, the teacher asks if I am okay. Again with the tears. “I am okay. I am just sad, and worried, and wonder if it was anything I did.”

Slowly, all the other Paras gather outside. Everyone surrounds me with hugs and understanding.

“We get it, Jennifer, we get it. This is only the beginning.”

I appreciate their understanding while apologizing for breaking down, in front of a parent, while the parent was comforting me.

Henry’s former Para comes out, gives me a hug and says “And the district thinks we are overpaid. No one can put a price tag on this.”

And that right there, those last parting words.

Never has a truer word been spoken.

~Jennifer

 

Vinnie has to be at work in an hour. I just got back from the grocery store and checked on the roast that has been slow cooking all morning long. Not too much longer. With the girls cleaning their room, Joe is working on his football stuff, and Vinnie taking a nap, I decided to close my eyes for a moment or two before I have to take Vinnie in.

I am not sure how much time passed from when I closed my eyes. I wake up to screaming. Ear piercing screaming. Crying, horrible sounding crying, cries of pain. Immediately I wake up, not quite understanding what is happening. Joe is yelling “What’s wrong! What happened! Talk to me!”

It only took me seconds to get myself together. Gracie is standing there. Her left hand is on her eye. She is crying. In between the heartbreaking cries she mutters “Something is not right.” I run over to her, she cries more. Uncontrollable crying. Not your normal kind of a cry. A cry that shook me to my core. A cry that I have never heard before and I already know I never want to hear again. Vinnie is now in the living room. Quickly, I look at him. The look on his face tells me he is just as confused as I am. Sofia is now with all of us as well. She is crying. Hers is a different kind of cry. Not a painful cry, but a cry of fear.

“Vinnie, take Sofia to her room, calm her down, ask her what happened!” Joe orders. He is yelling. Loudly yelling. I know he is yelling because he is scared.

My first thought is a seizure. I am standing in front of Gracie, she is in my arms. I am hugging her, whispering so no one else can hear, but hoping it calms her down. “It’s okay, calm down, shhh, it’s okay. Calm down, you have to tell me what happened.”

She will not stop crying. Joe is running back and forth. I have no idea what is going on in Sofia’s room. I cannot get Gracie to stop crying. I continue to whisper in what I hope is a calming voice. “Everything will be okay. Calm down. Everything will be okay.”

Joe runs out of the bedroom. “Get your coats we have to take Gracie to the hospital. It’s her eye. A pencil. Sofia poked her in the eye.”

I cannot even process this. Sofia is now in the living room, trying to find jackets. “I am sorry. I am so sorry. I did not mean to.”

Gracie cries more. I cannot think. What the hell happened? Gracie has her hand so tightly over her eye. She will not move it. I do not force her. The hospital is right up the road. Not even a mile. We will go. The doctors will look at it.

Joe is now next to me and Gracie. He helps her with her jacket, but she will not take her hand away from her eye.

With Gracie now with Joe, I go over to a crying Sofia. “Dad hates me now. He hates me.” I give her a hug. “Dad does not hate you. He would never hate you. He is just worried. It will be okay.”

“Vinnie, turn off the oven, I need her shoes, Sofia, get your sister’s shoes!” Joe is screaming. I cannot concentrate on that. I cannot concentrate on anything. What happened? What the hell is under Gracie’s hand?

Sofia and I are in the hallway. I continue to reassure her. “It’s okay. We are going to go to the hospital. It’s just right up the road. It will be okay. Just calm down.”

I hear Joe tell Gracie. “Okay, I need to look at your eye. I need to see what happened. Joe and Gracie cannot see me. I cringe. I am so scared. Did her eyeball come out of the socket? Is she going to be blind?

“No! Do not touch her eye, we just need to have the Doctor look at it!”

I want to cry. I want to shrink myself up against the wall and cry. But, I can’t.

Vinnie is in the kitchen, looking on at Joe and Gracie. Sofia and I are still in the hallway. I cannot get Sofia to calm down. She is crying. Although a different kind of crying, a different sound, from Gracie’s, Sofia is hysterical in her own way.

Sofia and I are almost the same height. I take her in my arms and whisper to her to the same way I whispered to Gracie ” Dear God, I do not know what is happening now. Right now more than ever we need your peace. We need your guidance and we all need to feel your presence.”

Sofia cries more.

“Gracie, I need you to move your hand. I need to see your eye. Jen, bring me a mirror!”

As soon as Joe sputtered those words, Vinnie took my place by Sofia and I ran to grab my makeup mirror. I threw it at Joe, ran back to Sofia, and Vinnie took his place in the kitchen where he had a clear vision of Joe and Gracie and me and Sofia.

I hug Sofia, she hugs me back.

“Okay Gracie, I am slowly going to move your hand away.”

I hug Sofia tighter. Vinnie is watching.

“Gracie, I need you to open your eye. Jen, grab the keys!”

I hear the muffled sound of a scared Gracie, “I felt my eye wiggle.”

Dear God, please let her be okay.

“Gracie, I need you to slowly open your eye.”

I fight back the tears. Sofia is still crying. Vinnie, the middle man so to speak is continuously looking at me and Sofia and Joe and Gracie.

With Sofia in my arms, I hug her tight. I close my eyes tight, not knowing what is about to happen.

“Okay Gracie, everything looks good. A little bruising but everything looks good. Here, look in the mirror.”

Sofia and I look at each other. For the first time in what feels like hours but in reality was probably only ten minutes, we have a little bit of hope.

“Gracie, how many fingers am I holding up? Can you see my hand?”

I look at Vinnie and he gives me a nod.

A much calmer Gracie mutters “Four. I see four fingers.”

Vinnie gives me a thumbs up. Sofia and I look at each other. “Okay Sofia, that’s a good sign, it will be okay.”

“Gracie, how many fingers do I have up now?”

“Six. I see six fingers.”

Okay. Everything should be fine, right? Gracie has her eye intact. She can see. Everything should be okay.

Sofia and I make our way to the living room with Joe and Sofia. I sit on the Sofia, safely planted between my two daughters, with Vinnie looking on. Joe. He is trying to tell me something but I cannot quite read him. I am drained. I am worried, but Gracie saw the fingers, she saw his hand so she can see. That’s good, right?

…

Four hours later.

Vinnie is safely at work. Joe, the girls and I are home from the hospital.

Gracie and her eye will be okay. There will be some bruising, some soreness, but she will be okay.

I am drained. Mentally drained. I never want to hear those cries from my daughters again. I never want to see Vinnie worried to the extent that he was worried about his sisters.

Tonight, we were lucky. Tonight, Gracie’s grandparents were watching over her. We definitely had an angel. An angel who probably needs a good couple days off to recover.

 

 

 

 

 

After a long morning of unfortunate events, Joe and I took the girls to breakfast while we awaited our long afternoon of unfortunate events.

It was a crisp 47 degrees today in my little suburb of Seattle. Joe, the girls and I were waiting at the mechanics for them to right a wrong that happened over the weekend. The mechanic’s shop is the equivalent of a concrete shack that you may see on a Steven King film. That’s okay though because there was a bible on the coffee table and “The Price is Right” on the t.v. Sofia had a chance to make her reading goals for school, and I had a chance to showcase my “grocery shopping” skills by pointing out how many times I guessed the correct price.

Once the icicles started to form on out eyelashes, we figured “Let’s go get some breakfast and hope they are finished with the car by then.” Off we went to “The Villiage Inn” which is really just a better version of Denny’s. Good diner food, good portions, and great prices. Plus, they had coffee and heat.

We placed our order pretty quickly. As I was pouring cream and three equals into my piping hot cup of coffee, I noticed Gracie had “the look.”

“Gracie, do you need to go to the restroom?”

“Yes, please.”

“Do you want me or Sofia to go with you?”

“You.”

I take Gracie to the restroom, let her do her thing while I scroll through Facebook waiting for her. While we were in there, a worker comes in and starts cleaning the sink and mirror. We say a quick “Hello” and then I ask Gracie “Are you okay?”

Gracie is finishing up, I am still on Facebook and the lady is wiping down the sink area. Then, the stupid nationwide text from Trump comes in. It was loud and piercing, much like the Amber Alerts, but truth be told, I could not even read the damn thing because it happened so fast.

Gracie comes out of the restroom and goes to the side of the sink where the lady is not working. She washes her hands but is uncertain what to do next because the lady is standing directly in front of the paper towel dispenser. The lady, I believe, sees Gracie a bit confused and moves out of the way, while showing Gracie the paper towel dispenser. The restroom is only so big, so once Gracie dries her hands, she is now looking for the trash can, which, the lady is now standing in front of. Gracie and the lady switch sides, I am asking Gracing “Are you okay” and Gracie cannot figure out how to use the trashcan. It is one of those little ones where you use your foot to press on the lever which then opens the lid. I talk her through it, tell her “Good job” and the lady tells us “Have a nice day.”

Once Gracie and I leave the restroom, she looks at me and says “You talked to me like I am a baby. I am 13, I think I can figure out how to use the trashcan!” Immediately, I start laughing. I mean, she is right and I probably went a little overboard on the whole “making sure she is okay thing.”

At this point Gracie and I are walking back to the table, Joe and Sofia see us, and can clearly see we are laughing. Just then, as we are in the middle of the restaurant, my phone rings. I know it is so tacky to answer a phone in the middle of any restaurant, but you guys, I had to! It was the mechanics and I had to know what was going on with the car.

Let me paint you a picture. A crowded restaurant with the retired elderly crowd sitting around enjoying their eggs, bacon and orange juice. Then, you have my family. Specifically, me, trying to maneuver my way through the tables to make it back to mine, while talking to the mechanic on the phone. “Sorry, excuse me, so sorry!” Gracie following me clearly embarrassed and a bewildered Joe and Sofia looking on.

The mechanic was going to do one last thing on the car and then give us a callback, so we were still good on time. I get off the phone with the mechanic at the same time we make it back to the table. Gracie sits down and exhales a sigh of frustration, while I sit down and wonder if I should order a mimosa.

Sofia: Umm, did something happen? I have a feeling something happened in the bathroom.

Joe looks at Gracie then back to me.

Gracie is giving me the evil eye. “Do you want to tell them or should I?!”

I look at Gracie, not quite sure what I should say, so I figured I would let her take the lead on this one.

I take a sip of my coffee at the exact moment Gracie tells Joe and Sofia, with an air of frustration mind you “MOM TOLD ME GOOD JOB IN THE BATHROOM!”

After that, everything happened so fast.

Joe and Sofia start to laugh. “Oh my God mom, really?”

I start to laugh while spitting out my coffee and Gracie is sitting there just as proud as can be that she was able to envoke so much laughter from off of us.

Sitting there shaking his head while laughing, Joe says “Jen, you didn’t..”

I am cleaning up the coffee that is now all over my shirt “It’s not like I told her “good job” for using the bathroom, I told her good job for throwing the paper towel in the trash!”

Again….more laughter.

So, here I am, officially proclaiming that yes, I was wrong. I need to remember Gracie is a beautiful, smart, feisty 13 year old who is coming into her own. I need to take a little step back and give her room to fly because she will. She will fly and as her eyes are on her future, I will be right behind her (in a safe distance) keeping my eyes on her.