Over The Rainbow

If you have ever read this blog before then you know about my trials and tribulations with my perfect-4-year-old daughter Alice. After a yearlong dramatic stressful struggle I got my daughter diagnosed and in a special school. After 4 years of knowing in my gut that something was wrong. After 2 years of teacher’s telling me not to worry that Alice was fine. Not to mention all of the lovely people who politely and impolitely told me that Alice’s tantrums and odd behavior was solely the fault of my defective mothering skills.


That is all in the past. Alice loves her new school. Her behavior at home is still the same. We have improved no more hitting or biting, but still a battlefield. This week after an especially trying night I humbled myself at the feet of Alice’s teacher. I was felling desperate and hopeless. I disheartened enough to tell her the truth. I sat with her at a little size table and unloaded my heavy burdens. I confessed my frustrations, my failures, and my fears. I lowered my confident mother façade and spoke out loud all of the secrets that mother’s hide.

Then the strangest thing happened. The little desk started to shake. The whole school room started to quake. Pictures fell of the walls and then the room was spinning. Then I felt like the whole building was falling. Then I felt a huge jolt and I must have fallen out of the tiny chair and hot my head, because I woke up on the floor.

Everything looked different, brighter, and more colorful. The room was covered with big rainbow colored flowers. Then I saw a bubble come out of a beautiful purple tulip. The bubble was translucent swirling with rainbows. As the bubble got closer it grew; until the bubble was next to me and the same height as me. Then it popped and there stood a lovely woman wearing a sparkly purple ball gown. She had a huge crown made of purple and gold stars. In her hand was a magic wand. The wand looked like one of those standard wood rulers; but this ruler was glittering like diamonds.

“Who are you?” I asked. She smiled a kind warm smile.

“I am Glinda the good teacher” She continued. “Are you a good mother or a bad mother?” She said.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure that I am a bad mother.” I said my head hanging low.

“Nonsense” she said. “You are a good mother and I am here to help you.” I was so confused. Me a good mother? Helping me? Where was this magical land? I knew that I wasn’t in Franklin anymore.

A Mother's Love

Just a quick one today. I must share yet another example of the strong and beautiful bond between mother and son. My son Dylan is a momma’s boy and he isn’t ashamed to admit it. He is my sweetie and I am his darling and we like it that way. Since his sister needs a lot more of my attention I try to make special time for just me and him each week. This week I picked him up from school alone one day to go have some mommy Dylan time. We stop to get gas, not at a BP station; don’t even get my started on that. I fill up the car and then Dylan and I go into the station’s mini market. I let him buy some penny candy, I buy milk, and then we open the door to leave. Dylan does not look both ways and starts to walk across the parking lot. There is a car coming, simultaneously; I scream and the driver sees Dylan and quickly stops, then after I come back to consciousness, he waves at me to go too. I mouth the words “Sorry” he smiles and nods.


I catch up to Dylan, I grab his shirt collar. “Dylan did you even look before you started crossing?!”

“Um…I don’t think so…um…no.” He says with his head down.

“Honey there was a car coming! If he didn’t see you and slow down he could have hit you.”

“Oh my God! I almost died?” He says his eyes wide open.

“ No, if he didn’t see you I would have pushed you out of the way.” I say.

“But then he would have run over you.” He says sounding concerned.

“Yeah, I know. Us mom’s do that kind of stuff, it’s in our job description.” I say with complete sincerity, because I would, I know you would too.

“But Mom, if you were hit by a car….how would I get home?” He says also with complete sincerity.

Being unappreciated, yeah, that’s also in our job description. Don’t worry I made him feel real guilty later, Mom’s do that kind of stuff too.