I’ve seen countless audiograms and tried to get a grasp on the intricacies of Hertz and Decibels, but to be honest much of it is still Greek to me. I wish someone could slip a magical set of headphones over my ears that would allow me to hear things as Jay does. As a mother, I want to understand my child better, and it would help me navigate that fine line between not letting him use his hearing impairment as an excuse to get out of trouble, and unfairly chastising him for things he honestly didn’t understand.

In the past I’ve struggled to explain Jay’s level of hearing loss to others. I think because he does so well, people don’t realize how significant of an impairment he has. Below is a graph I found that illustrates some of the sounds one would hear at specific decibels and frequencies (for example, a barking dog registers at about 65 decibels and 250Hz). I graphed Jay’s audiogram onto it, to give a layman’s perspective of what he can and can’t hear.

Decibels, or how loud something is, is represented vertically, with softer levels at the top. Frequencies are shown horizontally, with lower frequency sounds the left, and higher ones (like birds chirping) to the right. The top line is the map of Jay’s left ear, his better one. The bottom line is his right. Everything shaded above the top line represents sounds that he does not hear. Notice that the volume of normal conversation occurs between 30-40 decibels, which is out of his range.

Hearing aids amplify things tremendously, bringing Jay up into more of the speech banana (as audiologists call it), but that doesn’t mean that he hears speech clearly. The letters scattered throughout the chart show where certain speech sounds fall in the spectrum– not all letters are created equal. Jay still has a hard time hearing a lot of the softer sounds like -ch, -f, -s and -sh. I imagine that for him, listening to someone talk might sound like someone talking through a bad phone connection. Or watching t.v. with the volume just a little too low, so that words seem muffled. There are a lot of holes to be filled in, not to mention a lot of competing background noise that also gets amplified.

Looking at Jay’s audiogram makes me that much prouder of his achievements. Yesterday I attended his annual IEP (Individual Education Program) meeting at his school. Jay has always been mainstreamed and placed in classes alongside his peers, but also receives support from the teacher for the hearing impaired, Mrs. Maxwell, whom he meets with two and a half hours a week, along with speech therapy one hour a week. All the students with hearing impairments in our county attend Jay’s school, and we feel that it provides the best of both worlds for him, as I believe his IEP meeting proved.

Jay is currently reading above grade level, and performing above grade level expectations on standardized tests. Learning that would make any mother brag, but, as Mrs. Maxwell proudly told me, “Jay is doing things that kids with his level of hearing loss aren’t supposed to be able to do.” Typically, children with a hearing impairment struggle with reading and language arts because of their more limited vocabulary. Jay is doing so well that once again Mrs. Maxwell said that she feared the school board would cut support services for him, so she would really have to stress the importance of continued access to programs. I heartily agreed– I’ll take whatever help we can get to ensure his success!

I feel very fortunate. Jay is surrounded by an awesome staff at his school, and he is a smart, hard-working kid. We’re so lucky– a word I never thought I’d use to describe us five years ago, but an adjective I feel wholeheartedly today.

P.S I have no idea what that branch on the chart is supposed to mean, either. Talking leaves? I thought the wind in my tree was just a bad Patrick Swayze song. Yes, I said it. That song was BAD.

P.P.S.  Jay also receives support two hours a day from a wonderful interpreter named Miss Rita.  Holla!

Even Ralph and Sam took a break at the end of the day.

Anyway, meet Jay and the D-Rex he bought with his birthday money:

And because I am a believer in equal coverage for both parties:

It began with my daughter Megan’s love for The Lion King. To buy some time to do things like cook dinner, I would coerce Jay into playing Hakuna Matata on YouTube for her. Harmless enough. But somewhere along the line my son became hooked and before I knew it he was playing every version of the song he could find, including the Korean one. The singing itself was not that bad. What drove me over the edge was this:

Remember when I wrote that nice little post about how I was going to stop nudging Jay to act like his peers and encourage his creativity? Yeah…well, THIS? Does not fall under that umbrella. This must stop. IMMEDIATELY. I would personally like to thank the two women in this video for making this over-the-top version of Hakuna Matata and turning our lives into an episode of Glee. My son is now an interpretive dancer.

Some of our friends have found a lot of humor in my mortification. One in particular threatened to blurt out the name of the song the next time we were all out together (that’s all it takes to get Jay started). To which I responded by stabbing him in the eye informing him I would retaliate by mentioning the Wii around his son (the child’s pupils immediately dilate and his jaw goes slack). Harsh? Go ahead and play that video say, oh, 263 consecutive times and then judge me, people. I dare you.

People have looked at this picture and questioned my sanity, but honestly, I couldn’t have been happier to have a house full of rowdy boys. Seeing all of them having such a good time made me realize that my son has great friends and is happy. For so long now I have been wishing that he could make friends with some more of the kids in our neighborhood– especially the group of kids in the court down the street. I’ve mentioned them before, and there have been times when I thought he had been accepted into their little clique, but with the exception of one nice younger boy, the group has pretty much snubbed him (none of them are pictured above and were not invited to his party).  For awhile this bothered me, but looking at this picture I had what you might call an epiphany– for the past year I have been subconsciously wooing those kids in the court with fun parties and invitations, and you know what? Most of them are little turds. They bully the nice kid I mentioned, and I’ve learned through Jay that they’ve said some unfriendly things to him as well. Never again will I encourage my son to try to play with them, to make friends. They should be so lucky to have him for a friend.

As a child, I was painfully shy and often lonely. I feared that Jay would have the same experience, probably even a more difficult one because of his hearing impairment. I’ve always tried to please others because of my low confidence, and I think I’ve projected some of that onto Jay. I admit, in the past there have been times when I have discouraged behaviour in Jay that I thought others would find “weird,” and tried to encourage him to be as much like his peers as possible. Just seeing those words in black and white makes me cringe. Where is the girl who idolized the misfits in all those Molly Ringwald movies? I once scorned everything “normal” and mainstream, and yet here I was pushing my kid to fit in as much as possible. I guess I just wanted to protect him as much as possible from the rejection of others.

But you know what? He’s great, just the way he is. I don’t want to give him the message that he should change, that there is something wrong with him, just because others can be narrow-minded or cruel. It’s their problem, not his.

As my husband so eloquently put it, “Geez, you act like we have to tie a pork chop around his neck to get other kids to play with him. He’s got friends, he’s fine.”

Yes, he is. And any kid that can’t see that and doesn’t want to be his friend? Well, that kid can just bite me.

Almost since birth, Jay has had a fascination and undying love for all animals, but it seems for frogs and toads in particular. I suppose he’s not much different from other 8 year old boys in that regard, but it’s uncanny his ability to find and capture them. These pictures were taken at a park next to the library– every time we go the frogs seem drawn to Jay as if he were the pied piper. I’m proud to say that he’s a very gentle caretaker of the little guys, and takes great pains to make sure that no harm comes to them on his watch. Our most cherished and longest owned pet is a common toad he found in a friend’s yard almost five years ago. Bella is her name (I think he saw a Magic Schoolbus cartoon with a toad that would croak bel-LAH!). Against all odds, she has survived winters, much handling, and varying times of famine and plenty. She’s been with us so long that even my husband regards her affectionately and worries about her when it gets cold.

Although I don’t share my son’s love for all that’s scaley and warty, I’m grateful that he treats them with respect rather than with cruelty for sport. It’s one of the many things, added with all the other traits, that make him so uniquely him. Like his artistic talent. Very early on I knew that the kid had a gift– when he puts his mind to it he can draw better than many adults. Sometimes his creativity manifests itself in crafts, and his father is less than thrilled that Jay’s favorite store is Micheal’s, but I couldn’t be happier with our little Bobby Hill. He’s one of a kind.

Sometimes I wonder about what he would have been like had he not been born hard of hearing. Occasionally I find myself thinking that if he’s such a great student now, man what that kid wouldn’t have been able to accomplish without the hinderance of a hearing impairment. I admit, I have been guilty of indulging fantasies of national spelling bees and graduating college at the age of 18.

But then I realize that every experience Jay has had has made him exactly the human being that he is today. And I love him precisely the way that he is, and couldn’t imagine having him any different. Just like all those time travel movies, who knows what drastic change one little variation would cause? If there was a cure tomorrow for hearing impairment, would I take it for Jay? I’m sure I would. But if I could go back in time and have him born not hard of hearing, would I? I can honestly say that I wouldn’t. He wouldn’t be the same. He would not be my child. That may sound like the biggest contradiction ever, but what I guess I’m trying to say is that I wouldn’t trade our crazy, frustrating, joyful past for an easier, more “normal” experience.

Besides, who knows how many precious lizard and frog encounters I would have missed out on. Those? Are priceless.

Because nothing says love like an ashtray for grandma.

It’s been slow going, but I think they’re  starting to come around.  I wanted to follow Jay and spy on him from the bushes, but even I know that would be crossing a line.  I can’t help it– his Dad and I are both giddy seeing him riding scooters and bikes with the other kids.  He came home sweaty and whining about wanting to stay out later, and I’m sure I was grinning from ear to ear. 

Of course, wanting to watch him with his friends is not the only reason I wished I could spy on him.  There’s also the safety factor.  I know everyone says this, but it really is different than when we were kids.  I remember staying out all day during the summer when I was Jay’s age, roaming freely through neighborhoods and even going to the store nearby.  I can’t imagine letting Jay do that today.  With such scary stories about children as old as eleven getting abducted practically in front of their houses, it’s hard to know how much independance is safe. 

At least I am more confidant with Jay’s attention to his surroundings.  We try to treat Jay like any other child, but let’s face it, there are some extra safety concerns when your child doesn’t hear as well as others.  There’s always the fear of him not hearing an approaching car, and when he was younger I always stayed in closer proximity to him in parking lots, crowds, and situations where there was potential danger.  At the beach, for instance,  I may have looked like a hovering mother, but I didn’t have the luxury of calling my son back if he was wandering in too deep into the ocean. 

Such a balancing act, as the scales continue to become tipped more and more on the side of Jay’s independance.  Part of me wants him to stay at this age forever, to remain my little sweaty, puppy-dog smelling little boy.  I know there will come a time soon when any efforts to help on my part will be rejected with exasperation, perhaps some resentment.

*sigh*  I think raising a child is going to prove not nearly as difficult as letting one go.

Find me in the picture yet? I’m the one in the water. See the guide in the back laughing? I’m thinking she totally did that on purpose. Notice I’m still trying to paddle.

Jason, on the other hand, is a whitewater enthusiast and tries to go rafting at least once a year in north Georgia and West Virginia to the Gauley, where the big boys go. I’ve seen pictures of those trips, and it’s pretty scary stuff. But he assured me that this was a kid-friendly river and that the water was practically smooth as glass.
After seeing this picture I realized that he might not have been 100% forthcoming…

Good thing Jason is such an experienced rafter…..

Whoops– did Mr. Extreme Paddler, Class 5 Rapids just get taken out by a KIDDIE river? Jay was so proud of himself when he later told me that his Dad had fallen out of the boat but he hadn’t.

Looking around for his dignity the great big condor that must have swooped down and knocked him out of the raft.

But today I was a little down, and once there’s a chip in the armor sometimes that’s all it takes to release the floodgates. So there I was, sitting on Facebook taking all those stupid quizzes I make fun of (BTW, I am 73% gay and my true ethnicity is white) with silent tears streaming down my cheeks. (I know, right? How pitiful is that?) I finally got up before I started one of those gardens or farms and went outside and jumped in the pool with the boy, fully clothed. It felt exhilarating, and Jay couldn’t believe it. Megan was napping so I got to play with him, really play. Without yelling at him to stop tormenting his sister or correcting him for something that really doesn’t matter. Sometimes I’m so busy teaching, disciplining, worrying and butting heads with Jay that I forget to just have fun with him.

And I could use a little more fun. I’m so uptight sometimes, so bunched up with worry that I forget that this is the only shot we get, both in our lives and our children’s childhoods. Sometimes we can’t help the crappy stuff that happens to us, but we can control how we deal with it. When I got water in my ears Jay said, “Just tilt your head like this and thump all the smart stuff out.” That struck me as really funny, and I agreed, sometimes you need to just let all that smart stuff out and relax.