“Normal” and other labels

Colin had is annual review for Early Intervention yesterday, in which we sit down with his coordinator and all his therapists (a dwindling number, thank God) and determine how much progress he has made and what services he still needs and qualifies for. This will be his last annual review because on his 3rd birthday he no longer qualifies for Early Intervention services and would move to getting services through the school district if he still qualified. 

Fortunately, it doesn’t look like Colin will still need services by his 3rd birthday. Colin is rapidly approaching the point where he will be labeled as “normal.” Already, the medical, therapeutic, educational professionals have stopped labeling him as a “preemie” and adjusting his age, despite the fact that in many ways he still functions at a level that is more in line with when he was supposed to be born, rather than when he actually arrived. But within the 12-month range of skills that comprises age 2, he is “normal” in nearly every way — at or ahead of where he should be for his age. The only exceptions are weight and height (he qualifies as “mildly malnourished” on the charts for his weight, which means he continues to qualify for his monthly nutritionist visits) and his gross motor skills, for which he continues to receive physical therapy. 

For Colin, “normal” is a label we’ve been hoping for since before his birth. It’s a good label, and one we weren’t always sure we would achieve. And while he will likely continue to receive nutrition and physical therapy for the time being, we all are now confident that he will no longer need services after he turns three. We are lucky. I know many parents whose children were born under the same circumstances as Colin and Veronica never get that happy label of normal for their kids. 

Happy as we are about both twins being “normal” developmentally, it’s not really a label we think much about at home. But we do have lots of other labels for both kids, some good and some not. 

Veronica often is labeled as a “girly girl” and she most certainly is a “drama queen.” But those labels ignore the fact that she’s also very athletic and smart. Her athleticism recently earned her the nickname of “Rocket” because she can throw a ball all the way across the room. (Really, the girl has an arm.)

Veronica loves to pick out her outfits, and basks in the compliments they inevitable garner, since people love to talk to little girls about their clothes, but she also revels in her power. On Saturday, when we were grocery shopping, I turned around just in time to realize that she was shot putting the cans I was handing her into the shopping cart, rather than dropping them over the side. Pretty impressive, except for the fact that Colin was sitting inches away, and there were something like 10,000 people in the store. (Reminder to self: Never, ever, ever go grocery shopping on a Saturday afternoon. Really.)

Colin is mischievous, curious, lives in the moment and is strangely afflicted with deafness whenever we ask him to stop doing something. He likes to beat up on his brother and sister (often inappropriately so), but he also adores being “mothered” by his sister. “Read to me Roni,” he asks routinely. And the twins will retire to the cushion on the floor where Colin will snuggle next to Veronica while she “reads” him a story.

I love it when they actually interact with each other like that. Or when they hold hands and walk down the aisles at the grocery store, showing each other interesting things. When they fight over toys and compete for my attention … well that’s not quite so fun.