why normalcy hurts sometimes
Peyton is full of life. He is non-stop from the minute he rises in the morning. He has such a fun disposition- playing peek-a-boo, chasing you around the house, standing tall in his high chair signing "all done," with that devilish grin on his face to indicate that he knows he is doing something wrong.
He is a beautiful, normal, healthy 21-month old boy.
I look at him and just smile so big because he is everything I anticipated raising a boy would be- especially after hearing stories from Sue and other family members about Peter as a child. :)
Today, after dropping the kids off at school, I took Peyton on a run to the massive playground in our city. He loves the park, and doesn't stop for a second once he enters the area. Today, he thought playing in the sand was the most fun, and tested me to see if he could throw it...grinning at me the whole time.
The other day I had tears while playing chase with Peyton. We ran out to the living room, and there sat Hunter on the couch, twirling his hair, and staring out the window. He was indifferent to the squeals of laughter and the giggles from his little brother as Peyton stopped quick, smiled at me, and was off and running again.
I feel like Hunter was robbed of this normalcy. Especially now after receiving the PANDAS diagnosis...he had the potential to develop like the rest of his peers.
He used to play these games with me. He was so advanced in his speech and his smiles were precious. We would tumble on the floor and play turn-taking games that ignited such a spark in his personality- he had that same giggle of playful manipulation.
Now we are working, organizing goal-targeted play dates, and paying therapists to "teach" Hunter to play. An intense amount of effort goes into something that should really just come naturally.
So as much as I enjoy the normalcy of raising a second son, my heart yearns for the one who I used to describe as "all boy."
I am going to bring him back. I just need to figure out how. I need to find the combination that sparks his interest and lights his eyes once again.
He is a beautiful, normal, healthy 21-month old boy.
I look at him and just smile so big because he is everything I anticipated raising a boy would be- especially after hearing stories from Sue and other family members about Peter as a child. :)
Today, after dropping the kids off at school, I took Peyton on a run to the massive playground in our city. He loves the park, and doesn't stop for a second once he enters the area. Today, he thought playing in the sand was the most fun, and tested me to see if he could throw it...grinning at me the whole time.
See the video below, after I told him no throwing sand out of the box. :)
The other day I had tears while playing chase with Peyton. We ran out to the living room, and there sat Hunter on the couch, twirling his hair, and staring out the window. He was indifferent to the squeals of laughter and the giggles from his little brother as Peyton stopped quick, smiled at me, and was off and running again.
I feel like Hunter was robbed of this normalcy. Especially now after receiving the PANDAS diagnosis...he had the potential to develop like the rest of his peers.
He used to play these games with me. He was so advanced in his speech and his smiles were precious. We would tumble on the floor and play turn-taking games that ignited such a spark in his personality- he had that same giggle of playful manipulation.
Now we are working, organizing goal-targeted play dates, and paying therapists to "teach" Hunter to play. An intense amount of effort goes into something that should really just come naturally.
So as much as I enjoy the normalcy of raising a second son, my heart yearns for the one who I used to describe as "all boy."
I am going to bring him back. I just need to figure out how. I need to find the combination that sparks his interest and lights his eyes once again.
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