Sleep is for mere mortals....

I once heard that the definition of insanity was doing the same thing, the same way, and expecting a different result.  I don’t doubt it.  This past week, Evan decided he did not want to go to bed.  I don’t mean just at 8:00 – I mean at all.  It was his master plan to just skip the whole sleep-nonsense-thingy in its totality.  

Allow me to backtrack.  Evan sleeps in the bottom bunk; Ben in the top. Ben graciously gave up the bottom “because it is bigger, and you (Mommy) can lay down with Evan like you did with me so he won’t be afraid.”  Our bedtime ritual has been that we brush our teeth, enjoy a book, and go to sleep.  This past week, Evan blew that train right off the track. 

Why sleep?  We would get to the point of lying down, and then Evan would launch an escalating campaign of blended harassment and deceit.

  “Ooh, Mommy is falling asleep…what will happen if I blow in Mommy’s face? How about if I touch her nose?  Stick my finger in her ear?  Wow, she does not look happy. Look – she’s falling asleep again…I will sneak out of bed and get that toy.  Darn, I didn’t know that toy made noise! Uh, oh! ….”

This went on Monday, and Tuesday…by Wednesday night I was so sleep deprived I told Ben to ‘get his pop-tarts out from under the table.’  The problem is I meant to say flip-flops.   I could not take it anymore.  Wednesday night the blitzkrieg persisted… 9:00 – 9:30 – 10:30…. I began to understand why parents flip out and snap…  I yanked Evan out of bed and gave him a time-out in the hallway…back to bed.  No effect.  I lay in the bed stewing, thinking of all the work I had to do and how tired I was.  I thought, “This kid has no idea of what I do all day, every day.”

Then, a stroke of genius (or so I thought) lit upon me.  I will put his energy to use.  “Ah hah, I thought -- you want to stay up and you are not sleepy? I will show you what it’s like to be an adult.” I pulled him out of the bed and into the kitchen.  I was angry. Evan looked scared.    I pulled the step stool over to the sink where I had left a pile of dishes for the morning.  I hate doing dishes.  I signed to Evan to start washing. I wanted to see shock. I wanted to see reluctance.  I wanted to see pouting.  Evan broke  into a huge grin. 

We stood in my kitchen as the clock approached 11:30 and Evan washed every dish, pan, and piece of silverware.  I watched (hoped) for a sign of fatigue.  Nope.  I was torn between a silly-joy of not having to face those dishes in the morning, and indignation that my “punishment” backfired and I was no closer to solving our sleep dilemma. I was not yet willing to accept the fact that my psychological trick was not having the desired effect. Still trying to be the “mean task master” I pointed to the mop and bucket and told him when he was finished, I was going to make him mop the floors. Evan looked thrilled, showed me his muscles, and I felt like a Giant Idiot-of-Parenting.  Sure, my house would be cleaner, but I did want to go to bed at some point. 

We did not mop the floors.  When the dishes were done, I told Evan he had to go to bed.  He was not happy – like I had broken a promise.  I was exhausted. 

The next morning I decided I had reached the point of absurdity and I needed to wave the white flag.  I told Ben  I would not lie down in their room that night.  I needed my sleep.  If Evan wanted to stay up all night, so be it.  I didn’t want Ben to suffer as Evan bounced around their room, so I told him if Evan didn’t settle down, he could come and sleep in my bed. 

That night, we repeated our usual bedtime ritual. When it came time to lay down with Evan, I kissed him on the forehead and said, “Good night.”  He looked puzzled.  I point towards my room and told him Mommy was tired and since he didn’t want to go to sleep, I was going to sleep in my room.  I turned out the light.  Five minutes passed.  Ben walked in my room with his pillow.  Moments later, Evan followed and I told him to go back to his room.  I told him we were tired and wanted to sleep.   Evan looked bewildered, then intrigued. I’m sure the word “FREEDOM” blinked in big neon letters in his brain.

I laid awake for a short time, listening to the sounds of Evan playing.  Around 10:30, I woke briefly and could tell he was still going.  (Mind you, this was a school night!)  After midnight, I heard sounds coming from the living room.  I walked down the hallway and found Evan, still awake, hands folded behind his head, watching some black-and-white movie on T.V. I was over it.   Off went the T.V.  Evan gave me a surly look; I snatched him up, and let him know, “Enough was enough.”  I put him back in his bed, told him to go to sleep, and turned the light out.  Evan must have passed out then, because I didn’t hear anymore from him. 

As it usually does, morning came.  Six o’clock is early for most children, especially for those who choose to party half the night.  I woke Evan. His eyes were red.  I dragged him out of bed and pulled a uniform shirt over his head.  He tried to go back in the bed.  I smiled.  Vindicated.

When Evan was fully dressed, I sat him at the dining room table in front of his breakfast.  He put his head on the table.  I told him, “See what happens when you don’t go to sleep?”  He nodded.  He sat in my lap and put his head against me as we waited for the bus. 

Evan survived the school day.  I felt better than I had all week since I had gotten a full night’s sleep.  Bedtime came.  I went to kiss Evan’s forehead and he looked at me and patted the bed next to him.  I signed, “Are you going to go to sleep?”  He nodded.  I didn’t really believe him, but I got in the bed anyway.  Evan fidgeted for a few minutes.  “Here we go, I thought.”  I looked at him and signed, “Sleep.”  Seconds later, Evan snuggled close to me and hooked his arm around my neck as if to say, “You’re staying right here.”    We fell asleep like that. 

Extras:

I have discovered the hard way that a slow drain in the bathroom sink and a deaf kid are not a good match.  Evan cannot hear the water running, so he sometimes forgets to turn it off after he washes his hands or brushes his teeth.  This has resulted in a flooded bathroom twice.  Now, Ben or I will check behind Evan to make sure he has turned the water off.

Evan is doing well in school.  Behavior is still a challenge, but he is having more good days than bad.  Straight-faces and sad-faces on the behavior chart means no T.V. at home, so Evan tries to do the right thing.

Our communication is improving.  Evan’s signing vocabulary is passing mine now, so I have to catch up!  We can now have small conversations.  Evan has been pulling out his photo album from the orphanage in China and telling me about his friends.  Apparently, one boy scratched the side of Evan’s head, and Evan is still pissed at him! LOL. 

My big shock for the week is that I discovered just yesterday that Evan knows some MULTIPLICATION.  We were working in my classroom and he was on the computer.  Ben said, “Mom, look, Evan’s doing multiplication.”  I said, “No, he’s not.”  I walked over to see Evan moving an 18 over to a box that said 6 x 3 = ?    and the 15 over to the 5 x 3 = ?.  I could not believe what I was seeing. I couldn’t get him to show me more.  At home, I tried to get him to do it again on my computer, and he showed a solid understanding of the zero and ones table.  Beyond that, it looked like guessing, but I am going to look into this further.  Sometimes, I think the only thing about Evan that is 6 years old is his teeth.  He looks like Leon Spinks lately – all his front teeth are coming out.

Oh, and by the way, Evan has been doing the dishes now every day!  :)

The effect of time....

In my early twenties, in a moment of whimsy and idiocy, I got a puppy.  Gigi was a Boston Terrier.  I thought she would be like the sweet, funny, well behaved Boston Terrier I had left with my mother back in Rhode Island.  I made two amateur mistakes: assuming the puppies would have similar personalities, and thinking that somehow with my busy social life and erratic work schedule I could train a puppy to be as well behaved as my mother had.

 I was very wrong on both accounts.  Gigi was Nuts.  If there was doggy-Ritalin, I would have given it to her.  Of course, my schedule did not aid the poor little girl in developing nice behavior or bathroom habits.  I would come home from working all day and find ‘treasures’ she would leave me.  I wanted to sleep after staying out half the night.  Gigi wanted to run outside.  As a compromise, while I tried to sleep, she would dance on my head. 

Shortly into our ill-paired union, I decided that Gigi had to go.  I place an ad in the local paper.  If I were honest, it should have read:  “Superball that sh*ts.”   Instead, I lied.  I claimed I had to move and couldn’t bring the dear, sweet puppy with me.  Free - to a good home.  A woman answered the ad.  She had other Bostons.  I brought Gigi for a visit.  I feigned deep regret that I couldn’t keep the little darling.  The woman didn’t look like a hoarder or a mass murderer, and her animals seemed well cared for.  I gave Gigi a pat on the head and got the heck out of there.  As I drove away, relief washed over me.  I quietly wished the lady luck, and hoped I wouldn’t receive any “come-get-her” phone calls. 

Now, I am not comparing children to dogs directly, but I will admit now that the first weeks with Evan unnerved me.  I had many, “WHAT HAVE I DONE?” moments. I cried.  More than once.  I wistfully looked at pictures of my model-child Ben when he was small.   Remember the story of Adam and Eve? Walking around in Paradise …couldn’t leave well-enough alone ... just had to bite that apple?  That was how I felt; booted out of Paradise, never to return – or so I thought. 

The first day of school has come and gone.  I am posting a picture of the brothers on their first day.  Evan was extremely pleased with his reflection in the crisp white polo and navy blue slacks.  He couldn’t take his eyes off himself while he brushed his teeth.  He looked in the mirror smiling and nodded his head with approval.  Then he turned to me and hugged me tight.

Fast forward. Evan and Ben have just completed their 2nd week of school.  Ben is doing great and loves his new teacher.  He is adjusting to the homework load of 4^th grade.  I am so proud of the way he takes responsibility for his homework and tries his best.  He told me he made a new friend – a boy named Wyatt.

Ben said, “He has longer hair, but not like a Bison.  He doesn’t shed in the summer and grow it thicker in the winter.”  I wonder if Ben has shared this observation with Wyatt. 

Evan’s teacher also reported that Evan has a new friend – and they are trying to get Evan to stop hitting him.   

The past two weeks have been marked by an expected flurry of emails back-and-forth between me and Evan’s teachers.  The unexpected, wonderful part is that Evan’s teachers are reporting remarkable improvements in just two weeks!  I received this email yesterday from the deaf/hard of hearing instructor:

“Did you send the same child to school this week????  I CANNOT believe how much Evan has changed/grown/learned in one week!!!  I introduced 10 brand new signs (basic vocab) last Thursday, then checked to see what he remembered on Tuesday – 10/10.  Introduced 10 new words (more basic vocab) on Wednesday and checked to see what he remembered Thursday 10/10!! His behavior has also improved.  There are still a couple little things we are working on, but a HUGE change from last week.  I am so impressed!  Can’t imagine where he will be a month from now.”

This brings tears to my eyes every time I read it.  I feel as if I am witnessing a miracle in progress.  I have known from the first day that Evan was extremely smart.  But his behavior was atrocious.  And that is the undoing of many smart children (and adults.) 

Evan is still Evan.  He is rambunctious, funny, and loves to annoy Ben.  He still does things that baffle me and remind me he has only been with us for 2 months.  Just yesterday, Ben happened to look behind the couch and gasped, “Mom!!!  LOOK!!!”

Evan had been discarding trash of all sorts – cellophane wrappers from drink straws, a juice box, clementine peels, even a yogurt cup! – over the back of the sofa instead of walking them to the trash can.  I had Evan clean it up, and he signed to me, “Sorry.”  Now we have a ban on eating in the living room. 

I have set up a calendar on the refrigerator with pictures on it representing school/work on the weekdays with an 8:00 p.m. bedtime.  The weekend has pictures of T.V. and a church on Sunday.  Evan tells me every day that he doesn’t want to go to school and points at the T.V.    I tell him every day that he has to go, and Mom has to work.  Evan doesn’t fight it after that, and he seems to like school.  Everyday, he comes home and puts all new work on the refrigerator.  I have set up a folder for him to put his work into when he decides to swap out masterpieces.  I am quite impressed with the quality of Evan’s art work.  I am in my 7^th year of teaching and I have never seen a six year old who can draw like this. Evan draws with rapid, confident strokes which mirror his personality and defy his age.  I am posting pictures of a couple of pieces.

A very dear friend Leo, who passed away many years ago, shared some wisdom with me. It has been applicable so many times in my life I can never forget it – and I still hear it in his voice in my head: 

“Allow for the effect of time, over time.” 

I am in awe of this child.  Evan James Lamb is more than a survivor.  Evan has the ability, cunning and desire to make the absolute most of his environment. It was true in the depraved conditions in Xin Xiang, and it is true in the pristine surroundings of his elementary school.  God and life have big plans for Evan.  How exciting that we all get to watch! 

Ben and Evan on the 1st day of school.  The next 3 are Evan's drawings.  The  level of detail is remarkable at his age - look at the leaves and branches on the tree!  The 2nd a 3rd drawing are the playground at school and our house.  He did both drawings on a rainy day.