Who doesn’t need therapy?
Polly has six therapy sessions a week through the state funded early intervention program.
On Mondays she sees her speech therapist at 9:00am and her developmental therapist at 3:30pm. On Tuesdays, S takes her to a physical therapy session at a center. Wednesday, you’ll find me answering the door at 9:15am and 4:00pm and she ”plays” with another physical therapist and occupational therapist.
Thursdays are off. Polly and I lay around in our pajamas. We blog, play with the toy xylophone, do laundry, and watch Signing Times, respectively.
We enjoy our space.
Friday mornings, we kiss the older girls goodbye as S walks them to school. Then it’s breakfast, clean up and we head back to the center for one more physical therapy to round out the week.
It’s been a struggle to wrap my head around this much activity. Those who know me well, know that I am a low energy person. We’ve been doing therapy since Polly was eight weeks old.
With Polly’s busy little life, I blew off the whole extra-curricular thing for Elaina and Zoya. I have kept up with their school schedules. And we do homework and read about alphabet letters climbing trees and make forts under the dinning room table, but I haven’t looked around for soccer, or art classes, or dance.
One afternoon a few weeks ago, Zoya crawled up on the couch with me. We watched Polly try to stack blocks with C, her OT.
“I wish I had Down syndrome,” she said.
The way Zoya sees it, Polly has six adults who play with her every week. They bring games and sing songs, color, roll a ball back and forth.
I went on-line and googled park programs in Chicago. I knew that Zoya would love ballet class, and with all the tumbling Elaina does around the house, gymnastics would be the ticket for her.
This week I waited outside of Elaina’s gymnastics class. Her first session found her one of twelve little girls excited about the class. Everyone was nervous, unsure of what was expected of them. Hair pulled back into tight pony tails. The gym was chilly.
I sat on the “mother’s bench,” book in hand, casually chatting with other mothers.
“Have you had a class here before?”
“Is the teacher any good?”
Zoya will attend ballet class on Saturdays.
We seek opportunities for Polly to help her grow, to develop, to reach her potential.
But “therapy” is important for all three girls and Zoya helped me remember that.
Maybe I should look for a class for frazzled mothers trying to juggle their childrens’ lives.
Where do I sign up?