I want to be like them when I grow up!

Over the past few weeks my sweet husband and I have been working on completing admission paperwork to the Attachment and Bonding Center of Ohio. This extensive process has us creating narratives of our entire journey with our persevering preschooler. Starting at the beginning, in that dated hotel room in Russia, we began to lay out every step. Every step forward, every step backwards, every misstep.

These narratives include mainly our concerns and issues, and very little of our successes. Which we have done purposely, because we know our little guy needs help and we want him to get it. We know our entire family needs help. Despite our leaps and bounds we still have a long way to go.

And so we have been remembering the chaos, the sad, the am I the only parent who feels this way questions. Not fun, for sure. But because of this forced trip down memory lane we have also found ourselves pointing out how far we have all come since those fateful days in that musty Russian hotel room. And I do mean how far we have all come, because this journey does not just belong to our youngest son. We have all been on the rocky road, sometimes together, sometimes standing alone.

My sweet husband keeps saying things like, "Remember that next time Alex flips out."

And I do remember. This weekend alone my sweet baby worked through so many of his issues and emerged triumphant on Sunday evening. He did manage to get himself, his brother, and his grandparents thrown out of a childrens' museum, but really, that is nothing for my little guy.

He handled a busy weekend - a large Easter egg hunt filled with bustling children, competition, and, of course, candy. Attendance at a church he is unfamiliar with and where he spent time in both the sanctuary and the childrens' area.  Again, more bustling children, which is one of his triggers. He cheered his older brother on at the first Spring flag football game of the season. He spent two nights with his grandparents, without his usual bedtime rituals. He was an amazing Sensory and Trauma success! And yes, I am ignoring the Great Childrens' Museum Incident of 2014. His misdeed occurred during free play with other children, one of his biggest triggers. My sweet husband and I learned that lesson the hard way, and now so have the in-laws.

Late last week my persevering preschooler and I were reading a book that his bus aide gave him. (I know, right? What a sweet woman this aide is!) The main character in this book was a blanket, and the story was about how the little boy was never going to leave the blanket. Just like Mommy will never leave Alex. After we read the book my young son asked why he didn't have a blanket. Now before you get all upset that my sweet little baby doesn't have a blanket, let me put your mind at ease. He does have blankets. LOTS of blankets. But he really doesn't have a small one that can travel with him. He did, but he never used them, and now Lord only knows where they are. Still packed in a box, probably. But now, now he wants a blanket. "Like my brother's", he tells me.

His brother overheard this request. "He can have one of my Brown's blankets, because I have two." Wow. Just WOW.

The conversation ended and the boys went to Grandma's for the weekend. Frankly, I forgot about this simple request. But my smart seven year old didn't forget. This morning my oldest son showed up in the living room much earlier than needed, trailing his pillow, stuffed animals, and two Brown's blankets.  I watched as he handed one over to his little brother. "Are you sure?", I whispered to my brave son. "I have two. And he wants one."

There was a time when my oldest son would never had dreamed of sharing any of his precious belongings, especially not with his demanding and confusing little brother. There was  a time when his younger brother's antics would make him angry and frustrated. There was a time when he couldn't see the positive changes in his growing brother.

So we still have little to no eye contact. We still have stilted conversations and lots of melt downs. We still have refusal to learn, well, anything from me. We still have oh so many issues. But we also have more smiles from our youngest than blank stares. More joy. More participation in family. More understanding. And more brotherly love. My boys, they are right on track. They are getting it right. And I am in awe of them. I want to be like them when I grow up!

this is life happening up there

Your bed makes it's indescribable squeak as you lift your growing body from the car and truck covered sheets. I hear your footsteps as you run down the hall. I pause from the book I am reading to listen, expecting to hear your step on the stairs. Only I don't. You don't show back up in the living room, like you so often do. No, tonight you head the other way down the hall, to your little brother's room. The footsteps stop and I hear the small wooden chair being dragged across the tiny toddler's room. "What are you up to?", I wonder. Are you going to spring your little brother from his crib? Are you going to stand on the chair so that you can drop something into his crib?

I hear your little voices, whispering in the darkness. "Way to go, Alex, you sunk my battleship!", I hear you say. I smile. The tiny toddler had been watching Curious George videos on my phone before you snuck into his room- now you must be playing Battleship. "Look, Alex, you already have a hit here, so you want to fire right here." You patiently explain the game to your tired little brother, who has never played before. "That was a decoy! Do you know what a decoy is, Alex?" You go on with your tiny patient voice, explaining, very correctly, just what exactly a decoy is.

Moments later I pick the baby monitor up again and hold it to my ear.

"You have to pay attention in school, Alex. I know you say you don't like your new preschool but you have to learn." More whispers I can't hear. There are tears in my eyes. You will turn 6 years old next weekend and here you are, already such a good big brother.

"This is President Obama. And this is George Bush. His dad was a president too." You must be showing your brother your library book about Presidents. The tears are flowing now.

You don't know it, my big five year old, but this is what every parent wants - for the children to like each other, to rely on each other, to always be there for each other. Tonight I could picture teenage boys, one with spiky black hair and bright almond eyes and one with a crooked smile and serious eyes, hanging out in one of their bedroom's; the tall Chinese boy draped over the chair while the smaller Russian boy curled up in the bed. I could picture talks about school, teachers, girls, parents. My only hope for you and your brother is that you be happy. I don't worry so much about you. You are smart and funny and sensitive. But I worry that your brother will not be happy. I worry that his life will be so much harder than yours, that he will have to work ten times harder than you. And maybe he will. But hopefully you will have built such a strong brotherhood with him that it won't matter. That when it comes to you and him, you will always be brothers.

I know I should go upstairs and break up your late night whispers. I know that you have school tomorrow and that you need your sleep. But I don't. This is life happening up there in the tiny toddler's room. This is you growing into a big brother.

I hold the baby monitor to my ear again. I hear no whispers, only the calm rhythmic breathing of the tiny toddler. Have you fallen asleep on your brother's floor? Did you sneak back to your own bed?

Earlier tonight you were laying spreadeagled on the kitchen floor, under my feet. I marveled at how big you have grown. Your body is growing, that is for sure. Tonight, amid the whispers and giggles from your brother's room, I heard your heart and soul growing too.