I'm not even sure I should be writing about this. Because I really don't know what to say. But my heart is so heavy. It's aching for a lovely woman. And her family. And a class of fourth-graders, most especially our Maxidoodle.

It was not even two months ago that they suddenly lost a classmate, a sweet beautiful friend, to pneumonia. She is still so missed every day in their classroom, and in their hearts.

I think I've mentioned before how they've been trying out a new approach, called the "family model," in Max's school. How it works is that for 3rd through 5th grades, the kids stay together as a class (also kindergarten through 2nd grade). They have a new teacher for each grade, but the teachers work together. As in, Max's 3rd-grade teacher, his current teacher, and his teacher for next year all collaborate on any number of things. And the classes from the different grades get to participate in some things together. Thus, the "family" in family model--a 3rd grade class, a 4th grade class, and a 5th grade class, along with the three teachers.

Well, yesterday this wonderful group of kids, Max's fourth-grade class, got news that their teacher from last year, part of their school family, was diagnosed with a brain tumor. She's an incredible lady, and I know she'll fight like hell to beat this cancer. She's even hoping that she'll be back teaching before the school year is out. But I know the journey, even if successful, won't be easy.

And I know it's not easy for Max, trying to make sense of it all.

One of the things I love about Max's school is that the classes are small. And they travel together as a class for two to three years. And when a class really meshes, it makes for some pretty tight-knit friends. Max is with a wonderful group of kids, each special in his or her own ways...as all kids are.

But now they are missing one of their friends. It's still hard to comprehend. Seriously, how does one comprehend the sudden death of a sweet little nine-year-old girl?

Max is not a big talker, so I didn't expect a long drawn out answer when I asked him how school was today. I wasn't surprised when he simply said, "It was different. And really sad." I was surprised by the tears that welled up in his eyes though. And was even more surprised when he said he wanted to go to the viewing. Surprised, and relieved. I have no idea where he got his little stoic streak, but I'm glad to see it crumble a bit. Not that I want him to hurt, of course. Just that I don't want him to try so hard to hide it when the hurt is there.

with all his heart...

I could easily sit here and make a list a mile long of all the things that make Rich such a great Dad. It's just such a big part of who he is. But to be perfectly honest, I don't have time today to write such a list. So I'm just going to mention one of the things that has always meant the most to me. It's not the fact that he changed explode-o diapers or wiped big old green globs of snot, that he reads to the munchkins and checks homework, that we wipes tears and soothes fears...yes, he did/does all those things and a million things more. But what I love most, isn't *what* he does, it's *how* he does it. With overwhelming love. Without ever acting as if he's doing me some kind of favor. With all his heart.

I love you beyond all words, Rich. Happy Daddy's Day. And thank you for everything.

*****
And to completely change the subject, a quick apology to everyone I feel I've been ignoring in the past few weeks. I am so very sorry! I'm sorry that so many emails have gone unresponded to and so many blog posts have gone unread in the last few weeks. Life is just so goshdarn freakin' crazy right now, trying to finish up the school year, both in the homeschool realm and the public school realm, dealing with everyone's health issues, etc. But the boys' last day of school is Wednesday, and Annie and I should finish up in a week and a half at the latest. And then I hope I can be a better friend to all of you I love so much.

a happy ending...

Principles. Those ideas we hold sacred. As important as they are to us, what happens when they butt heads with protecting those we love?

Pink is for girls, blue is for boys. Ballet is for girls, football is for boys. Romance novels are for girls, sci-fi novels are for boys. <----AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGH. This is a thought system we fight very hard in this house. And despite our vocal vigilance against these sort of ideas, they still creep in--through school, through TV, etc., etc., etc. But we talk about them and do our best to make our kiddos see the foolishness of such distinctions.

Then came the pants. A pair of black leggings from the thrift store. That Gray fell in love with. Not with how they look, but with how they feel. He has Sensory Processing Disorder (Sensory Integration Disorder). While people with SPD all have sensory issues, there are many different manifestations. Different senses are affected differently in different people. For Gray, tactile sensations and proprioception are the areas that are most strongly affected. (Proprioception, put simply, is sensing where one's body parts are in relationship to one another. This is why Gray falls out of chairs on a regular basis. It is also why he continues to use a fist grip to hold a pencil.) But it's the whole tactile sensation thing that comes into play here. Physical sensations are multiplied exponentially for him. Things I can hardly feel even with conscious effort drive him absolutely crazy! (Thus the reason why the seasonal switching from long sleeves to short sleeves and vice versa that I've mentioned before is always so difficult around here.) And these pants--well, they're just the most comfortable things he's ever owned!

Do we care that he's wearing pants typically marketed for girls? Of course not. We wouldn't care no matter what the reason he chose to wear them. But here's the thing. This sweet child also has major anxiety issues. Not as in, "he's just on the shy side" or "he doesn't like to get up in front of an audience" or "he's a little worrywart" type of thing. No, he's been handed a slew of diagnoses. (Diagnoses that I'm happy to say his psychologist uses *not* as labels, but as tools to help decide what strategies may best help him be comfortable in his own skin.) Anyway, all this said to explain that he is every bit as sensitive emotionally as he is physically.

So...do we set this child up for more bullying and ridicule by allowing him to wear this pair of pants he loves so much, this pair of pants that take away a point of regular discomfort for him? Or do we invalidate everything we've continuously tried to teach them about the idiocy of gender stereotyping by telling him that his pants are "girl pants" and he shouldn't wear them to school?

Well, he wore those pants to school. And the first day, no one said a word. I breathed an inner sigh of relief. And washed the pants--because every other day is about as long as he can stand to be without them. Second day at school in them, a different story. Kids started teasing him about wearing tights. :( But in a feat of bravery, he just said he didn't care. And he's continued wearing his tights, as he now calls them, every other day to school.

I don't pretend to think that standing up for one's principles will always pay off so well. Life is rarely that simple. But this is a happy ending I'm going to cherish. I tell you, that kiddo just makes my heart burst with love and admiration...