Happiness

I often see posts on Facebook or blogs about formerly neglected children that have been adopted that talk about how happy the child always is, despite what he/she has been through. They talk about children who are always smiling, who love to have new experiences, who love to play with their new siblings, who find joy in everything. They post pictures of children with huge smiles on their faces.

Kellin’s not really like that. Although he has a fabulous grin and an infectious little giggle that we love to hear, the truth is that he is unhappy a lot of the time. He prefers to be at home, with his toys. He prefers to be carried around whenever possible. He prefers to only do what he chooses to do. Therefore, he does not usually like going in the car, going to public places, walking anywhere, doing any of his own self-care, doing any “work” or therapy tasks, etc. This means that our mornings often look something like this:

I wake up Kellin. I put him on the potty because he stays dry through the night and needs to go right away. He uses the potty and then wants to be cuddled. So I hold him for a while. Then I tell him it’s time to get dressed, and he starts to fuss. I prompt him through his dressing routine (because he can do nearly all of it by himself) and he cries the whole time. After he’s finally dressed, he wants to cuddle. So I hold him for a bit, and then it’s time to head downstairs. As soon as I tell him to go down the stairs, he cries. And cries the whole walk down, and the whole way to the kitchen, moving very slowly. Once we get to the kitchen, he sits on the floor while I make his breakfast. He is often still crying. Once his breakfast is ready, I tell him to walk to his chair at the table. He does, as he cries. Once he is settled in his chair, sometimes he is happier. Some days, he eats his breakfast pretty cheerfully; other days, he fusses through the meal. After he’s finished, I tell him to head upstairs to brush his teeth, and he fusses. He cries as he walks upstairs and he often cries through teeth-brushing. By now it’s time to put on shoes to head out the door for daycare, so he cries about that. He cries as we make him help put his shoes on, and as we get his cane and walk out the door and to the car. Often, he cries for the first few minutes in the car as well. Then when we arrive at daycare, he cries as he climbs out of the car and walks into the house.

You’ll notice that he often fusses through the majority of our morning routine. He fusses because he would prefer that I carry him everywhere, dress him, feed him, and let him spend as much time as he wants with his toys.

I really get tired of this fussing day after day. These are tasks I’ve asked him to do for months. Tasks he is completely capable of doing. Tasks that I never let him get out of even when he fusses at me.

It would be so much easier just to do everything for him and let him be happy.

As parents, we all want our children to be happy. That’s kind of a fundamental part of parenthood. But as I’ve given this a lot of thought, I’ve realized I want something more for my children, especially for Kellin.

I want him to learn.

I want him to do things for himself.

I want him to feel pride in his accomplishments.

I want him to reach his potential.

I want him to know he is capable.

Don’t get me wrong; of course I want Kellin to be happy. But I want him to be happy here in the real world, where there are demands and expectations. I can’t let him stay in his ideal little world, where he plays with his musical toys endlessly and has everything done for him.

I hope that someday it clicks, that he will sit down with his teacher or therapist and just do what they ask, without a protest. I hope that someday he hops out of bed and dresses himself, without a fuss. I hope that someday he sits down at the table and feeds himself a meal, just like that.

I believe that he can do these things. But he doesn’t believe it. So I choose to believe that by teaching him each task and then expecting him to do it (happy or not), he is growing as a person. He is stretching toward his potential. And someday, I hope this will make him happy.