Let's go in yonder, please.

My adult children were home for a bit over the recent holiday season. Is it cliche to say that there is simply nothing better? Conversations were rich,  laughter was frequent, and my heart just felt so at peace to know all those precious people were sleeping under my roof each night. (But less I paint too perfect a picture, there were also constant messes in the kitchen, a ton of laundry, and late late nights that left me with quite the circles under my eyes!)

Perhaps one of my favorite parts of parenting young adults is hearing their memories of growing up in our home. Listening to them talk about our family traditions never ceases to bring a smile -- and sometimes a laugh as some traditions were never intended to be such.

When the triplets were young, we had a steady routine. They would get up, we would have breakfast together, and then go back to their room to get dressed for the day. Apparently, I would daily say something to the effect of "Ok, let's go in yonder and I will get your shoes on." Or "Go in yonder and watch "Little Bear" while I get my clothes on real quick." You get the idea. So when we moved to Phoenix one of the first things they wanted to know was which room was "yonder". I didn't understand. "MOM! Which room is yonder" they implored me. It took several minutes for me to realize what in the world they meant.

Hence, most people have a family room. The Shraders have a yonder.

Often, as my crew remember, I learn how some event, season, circumstance affected them. It can hurt to hear they were hurt by something that maybe we missed recognizing completely. And if it was due to something we, as parents, said or did, well I am always devastated by those memories. "I'm sorry" never seems quite strong enough.

But sometimes, the memories have nothing to do with me, or our home, and seem almost to come out as my amazing children process them. One such discussion felt like that this season. We were discussing school and some legislation that I have been working on here in Delaware regarding education issues. Mason began to recount being alone in the special education room and how horrible that always felt. I was shocked. Truly. You were not ever in the special education room, I said. No. He told me. He was. If his teacher didn't want him completing assignments on his computer when the other students were writing their's, she sent him there. What? Why didn't I know about this?

And as we began to discuss and dig into the circumstances, and I continually reminded him that he was supposed to be full inclusion. He said, yea, I think there is a lot more segregation happening than parents are aware.

For the love.

I can't quite wrap my mind around it. And honestly, I feel very sad even trying to. I can sit here and type about what I thought was happening, the safeguards we had in place, and the ridiculousness of separating this child from his peers. But it won't accomplish anything today. Rather, we as a family will keep working to make it better for those following in our path.

I will say, Mason is working on his PhD at Brown University in BioArchaeology today. He is teaching Brown undergrads and frankly in my perhaps not objective opinion, changing the world by demonstrating all that CAN be accomplished with cerebral palsy. I am ridiculously proud.

 

I had the privilege this summer to be interviewed for a podcast in Australia. I am linking to that ResearchWorks Podcast here because we discuss so much in that hour together. And yet, there is so much work to be done. So many attitudes to change. So many people to educate.

We must be ever vigilant. Motor skills alone should not define our children.