This isn't what I was planning on blogging tonight, but it's fresh on my mind, and I have to write it down.
We were gone over the holiday weekend and came home last night to 8 new messages. 8! I don't think we get that many messages normally in a month. One was from a friend of ours discussing upcoming plans, but the other seven were from some old "friends" of DD's from her old school, "SES". Now, these are girls DD claimed as friends, and they were some of the nicer girls in her class - definitely the "cool" kids. DD invited them to her birthday party one year, although the next year, when she mentioned inviting them, they announced they were already busy that day.... before the date had even been selected. The only contact DD has had with them since then was at SES's carnival last spring, where I watched them pretend to be nice, but then laugh behind her back. DD was oblivious to that, and was thrilled to see her old "friends."
Fortunately, we intercepted these messages while DD was out of the room, and she never heard them. When we realized what they were, we zipped through them, and I just finally listened to them in their entirety just now. Apparently a few of the girls were having a sleepover and must have run across our phone number. DD is perpetually giving it out to "friends" despite our admonition, and insists they asked for it. She is rarely called, though once or twice she has received genuine calls.
Anyway, the messages involved a lot of giggling and passing the phone back and forth, a lot of syrupy sweet, "oh we miss you," "school isn't the same without you," etc. And the most oft repeated was, "Please, please, please come to the SES carnival this year." The emphasis makes me certain that they are looking for another opportunity to laugh at her. They request that she call for a "play date," though even DD (despite being perpetually "behind the times"), no longer refers to them as play dates. They ask repeatedly for her to call them back, providing a cell phone number.
The thing is, had DD heard these messages, she would have fallen for this hook, line, and sinker. The subtle jibes and teasing would have been lost on her. She would have been impressed with how badly they wanted to talk to her, and insisted on calling immediately, bugging me until I relented. She would have started begging to attend the SES carnival this year. (the girls are in Jr. high now). I don't know if their intention was to laugh at her when she got there, or just laugh at the thought that DD might show up and not find these girls there to greet her with open arms as anticipated.
Attending the SES Carnival last year gave our kids closure, to see that they really had moved on from the old school. It worked well, particularly for DS, who realized he is happier at his new location than in his old, and quickly saw that he no longer felt at home at SES. He spent years pining after his Kindergarten school/classmates when we had to move him after only one year, so I feared he'd be really heartbroken over leaving SES after he'd attended for 4 years. Going to the carnival nipped it in the bud. When we left, both kids agreed it was sorta fun once, but a repeat visit was not necessary.
It bothers me that these girls are getting their kicks from laughing at DD's disability. They have never been told of her official diagnosis, or what that means, but having been in her class since 2nd grade, I'm certain they knew she was "different." I won't be passing the message on to DD. I don't see the point. Maybe I'm way off the mark here, and these girls' interests are pure-hearted, but I can live with that risk. DD is so much happier now, in her new school. The kids there truly do like her and accept her for who she is. I can't count the times I have watched older girls especially take the time to include her, to speak kindly to her, to laugh with her - it warms my heart. I have approached a few of them and told them how much I appreciate their including her, and every one has responded something along the lines of, "She's just so sweet, I love her!" And they mean it! Don't get me wrong, it's not paradise. DD will never be the center of the social scene, and won't be invited to every get-together, but at least she is not excluded from all of them. And she's not the punch line to the joke.
I'm not sure what the difference is. I believe a big part of it is the Christian environment of this school. Oh, I know, that's no guarantee, and it's not to say that non-Christian children and schools can't be supportive. I just think it changes the daily mindset and focus of these children, and Scripture serves as the basis for all the school lessons, discussions, and rules. Another difference is that while kids at the current school have seen a few of DD's micro-rages, they haven't seen near the number or intensity that those at her old school (i.e. - these 3 girls) had seen. The DD attending 7th grade is a far different child than the DD who attended 2nd grade at SES. Kids can have short memories, but generally that sort of behavior is hard to live down.
DD has been more open about her FASD with her friends in her current school (their response when she told them? "That's OK, that's just the way God made you."), and we have been able to share with more parents, some of whom have known us for years. That openness may help, too, since it's easier to be tolerant when you know the cause of the problem. I feel I can call any parent on the class list without reservation, whereas I knew very few of the parents at SES, and none whom I could call to discuss situations like this.
The messages have been deleted, and we will not tell DD about the calls. I saved the number. If the girls' desire to get together is legit, they will call back again. I won't be holding my breath, though.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
I'll Be Back....
So, spending 5 hrs in the car gives you lots of time to compose blog posts in your head, but I'm not going to type them up tonight. However I do want to share one little anecdote with you.
Our nephew, a resident of IN, is 9 years old. Recently he was watching the news with his parents when Arnold Schwartzenegger came on. He watched for a while, then turned to his parents....
"That guy looks like the Terminator!"
Our nephew, a resident of IN, is 9 years old. Recently he was watching the news with his parents when Arnold Schwartzenegger came on. He watched for a while, then turned to his parents....
"That guy looks like the Terminator!"
Saturday, December 19, 2009
What's In A Name?
DD's class just finished reading "The Outsiders," and doing various types of analysis. DD did many of these short assignments on her own, and in general she did pretty well. I think it helped that they were broken into smaller, more manageable chunks, rather than the larger projects they are often assigned.
We did have some interesting ones, for instance, the opening line says something like, "I had two things on my mind when I walked out of the theater that sunny day: the movies, and Paul Newman." So when the assignment was to list the main characters in the book, and their role, the first one she listed was Paul Newman as the leader of the gang. Well, I suppose that cultural reference is going to become more and more obscure to the coming generations.
Last night's assignment was to answer three questions. The second one was, "How does the title of the book relate to the story? Can you think of a better title for the book and why?" (For those who haven't read this, it's written from the perspective of a teen aged gang member back in the 60's(?), talking about the tensions between the "greasers" (poor kids, delinquents) and the Socs (rich kids, but troublemakers)).
She sat there looking stumped, so I rephrased the question: "Why was the book named, "The Outsiders." DD's answer was, "Well, they spent a lot of time outside, for lunch and things."
Fortunately, once I talked her through what the teacher had in mind for each of the questions, she did a great job answering the questions on her own. Only minor editing were needed. This is huge progress!
We did have some interesting ones, for instance, the opening line says something like, "I had two things on my mind when I walked out of the theater that sunny day: the movies, and Paul Newman." So when the assignment was to list the main characters in the book, and their role, the first one she listed was Paul Newman as the leader of the gang. Well, I suppose that cultural reference is going to become more and more obscure to the coming generations.
Last night's assignment was to answer three questions. The second one was, "How does the title of the book relate to the story? Can you think of a better title for the book and why?" (For those who haven't read this, it's written from the perspective of a teen aged gang member back in the 60's(?), talking about the tensions between the "greasers" (poor kids, delinquents) and the Socs (rich kids, but troublemakers)).
She sat there looking stumped, so I rephrased the question: "Why was the book named, "The Outsiders." DD's answer was, "Well, they spent a lot of time outside, for lunch and things."
Fortunately, once I talked her through what the teacher had in mind for each of the questions, she did a great job answering the questions on her own. Only minor editing were needed. This is huge progress!
Thursday, December 3, 2009
So Much for Hope and Trust
Sigh... I thought we'd finally gotten to a really good place.
It looked like DD had turned a corner. That she was getting in control of some (note: not all) of her impulses. That something had finally clicked!
This summer, we had a steep decrease in the stealing incidents - just two or three all summer, and all very minor items. Not that it's any less "bad" if it's a small item, but at least it's a little less embarrassing. I made a point to praise her every so often for her continued not-stealing. I told her she should be proud of herself (hoping that if the pride came from within, the motivation would come from within as well). I started trusting her - stopped checking pockets and backpacks, stopped worrying when she went to a friend's house, stopped feeling I needed to check her desk regularly. The few times I did a quick spot check, just to be sure, I found nothing untoward.
Ha! Silly me!
So today, DS came in the door from the bus ahead of DD, with just enough time to give a quick report to Jeff before DD came in. He said this AM DD had gone upstairs at the neighbors house (they go there in the AM before the bus comes) to their 4-yr-old daughter's room. She came down saying that she "had been counting S's money." Later in the day, he saw her pay a kid at school $1 to get a Warhead (candy), even though she has no ready access to cash here at home (for just this reason).
After checking with the neighbor, I found out that this was her observation as well, and that DD had come down acting a little oddly, then immediately had to go to the bathroom. She'd spent the rest of the morning acting "squirrely," before heading to school. Upon inspection, it turned out DD had stolen $27 from S's bank upstairs.
I didn't say anything to DD about it right when I got home, as I knew DS was going to an evening activity, so I'd be able to confront her without the audience (it's always more fun for her to act dramatic and tortured when there's an audience). In the meantime, I quietly searched her backpack and located $16. After dropping DS off, I asked her, "So what do you need to tell me about?"
I'll give her credit - she did admit right away that she had stolen money, but the story was that she had stolen $8 from C (the classmate from whom she bought the candy). We actually went through several iterations of the story:
1) I stole $8 from C
2) I stole $16 from S and $8 from C
3) I stole $16 from S and $1 from C
4) I stole $21 from S and $1 from C
5) I stole $22 from S and $1 from C
6) The money is all in my desk
7) Well, except for the money in my folder, the money is in my desk
8) I stole $2 from C
And then she wonders why I never believe her! We went through similar denials/admissions regarding the box of pencils the neighbor also discovered missing (stolen a month ago, but she just made the connection now). And then, when I said I needed her locker combination so I could check it tomorrow, I got a song and dance about how she 1) was sharing a locker with another girl, in another grade, whose name she doesn't know 2) well, the girl only has her toothpaste in there 3) oh, the girl just got her own locker yesterday 4) I told her she could keep her toothpaste in my locker 5) she has no room left in her locker, so I told her she could keep her toothpaste in mine.
I told her my growing trust in her has been destroyed, and I am extremely disappointed in her for not only stealing and lying, but stealing from a 4-yr-old. I see no signs of remorse, only disappointment in getting caught. Oh, she'll say she feels bad, and there will probably be some crocodile tears, but nothing genuine.
She will make restitution, of course, and we haven't yet decided on the consequences. The thing that gets me, though, is that all the books say stealing is a part of FASD because these kids have no real understanding of ownership, or no impulse control. I could buy that when it was a pencil lent by a friend, or something found on the ground. All of it in the past has seemed very spur-of-the-moment.
But this was premeditated - she planned in advance to go upstairs to take the money. And she knew it was not hers - her guilty behavior afterwards shows she was aware of her transgression. So at what point do we say that this isn't the FASD, it is just her selfish decision to take what she wants, regardless of who it hurts? The stakes are getting higher. In the past, I could say that she never seemed to be interested in things of value - it was more of a magpie thing: bright shiny objects, treats, colorful things, office supplies, hair things - and what she took was worth almost nothing. Apparently, this is no longer the case.
Our neighbor has known DD since she arrived 6 years ago, and she knew of DD's stealing habit. But, like us, she was lulled into a false sense of security. The neighbor seems to be handling it well, but we are embarrassed that DD did this. She asked if we would get the true story from DD, and I had to admit we probably wouldn't. If we're lucky, we get something approximating the truth, but we have to go through so many permutations before we get there that we never have confidence that we know everything. I'm not even sure DD really remembers all the details in these situations.
For better or for worse, she's a really bad thief. Her poor planning and logical abilities really become apparent in these situations. Of course, while her creative thinking skills are very poor when it comes to schoolwork (where her logic wins out), they seem to be functioning just fine when she needs to come up with 8 different excuses for her behavior.
At least I have Dark Chocolate Moose Munch to help me calm my nerves. And DD came home with a box of Sees Dark Chocolates, too. Does my honey know me or what???
It looked like DD had turned a corner. That she was getting in control of some (note: not all) of her impulses. That something had finally clicked!
This summer, we had a steep decrease in the stealing incidents - just two or three all summer, and all very minor items. Not that it's any less "bad" if it's a small item, but at least it's a little less embarrassing. I made a point to praise her every so often for her continued not-stealing. I told her she should be proud of herself (hoping that if the pride came from within, the motivation would come from within as well). I started trusting her - stopped checking pockets and backpacks, stopped worrying when she went to a friend's house, stopped feeling I needed to check her desk regularly. The few times I did a quick spot check, just to be sure, I found nothing untoward.
Ha! Silly me!
So today, DS came in the door from the bus ahead of DD, with just enough time to give a quick report to Jeff before DD came in. He said this AM DD had gone upstairs at the neighbors house (they go there in the AM before the bus comes) to their 4-yr-old daughter's room. She came down saying that she "had been counting S's money." Later in the day, he saw her pay a kid at school $1 to get a Warhead (candy), even though she has no ready access to cash here at home (for just this reason).
After checking with the neighbor, I found out that this was her observation as well, and that DD had come down acting a little oddly, then immediately had to go to the bathroom. She'd spent the rest of the morning acting "squirrely," before heading to school. Upon inspection, it turned out DD had stolen $27 from S's bank upstairs.
I didn't say anything to DD about it right when I got home, as I knew DS was going to an evening activity, so I'd be able to confront her without the audience (it's always more fun for her to act dramatic and tortured when there's an audience). In the meantime, I quietly searched her backpack and located $16. After dropping DS off, I asked her, "So what do you need to tell me about?"
I'll give her credit - she did admit right away that she had stolen money, but the story was that she had stolen $8 from C (the classmate from whom she bought the candy). We actually went through several iterations of the story:
1) I stole $8 from C
2) I stole $16 from S and $8 from C
3) I stole $16 from S and $1 from C
4) I stole $21 from S and $1 from C
5) I stole $22 from S and $1 from C
6) The money is all in my desk
7) Well, except for the money in my folder, the money is in my desk
8) I stole $2 from C
And then she wonders why I never believe her! We went through similar denials/admissions regarding the box of pencils the neighbor also discovered missing (stolen a month ago, but she just made the connection now). And then, when I said I needed her locker combination so I could check it tomorrow, I got a song and dance about how she 1) was sharing a locker with another girl, in another grade, whose name she doesn't know 2) well, the girl only has her toothpaste in there 3) oh, the girl just got her own locker yesterday 4) I told her she could keep her toothpaste in my locker 5) she has no room left in her locker, so I told her she could keep her toothpaste in mine.
I told her my growing trust in her has been destroyed, and I am extremely disappointed in her for not only stealing and lying, but stealing from a 4-yr-old. I see no signs of remorse, only disappointment in getting caught. Oh, she'll say she feels bad, and there will probably be some crocodile tears, but nothing genuine.
She will make restitution, of course, and we haven't yet decided on the consequences. The thing that gets me, though, is that all the books say stealing is a part of FASD because these kids have no real understanding of ownership, or no impulse control. I could buy that when it was a pencil lent by a friend, or something found on the ground. All of it in the past has seemed very spur-of-the-moment.
But this was premeditated - she planned in advance to go upstairs to take the money. And she knew it was not hers - her guilty behavior afterwards shows she was aware of her transgression. So at what point do we say that this isn't the FASD, it is just her selfish decision to take what she wants, regardless of who it hurts? The stakes are getting higher. In the past, I could say that she never seemed to be interested in things of value - it was more of a magpie thing: bright shiny objects, treats, colorful things, office supplies, hair things - and what she took was worth almost nothing. Apparently, this is no longer the case.
Our neighbor has known DD since she arrived 6 years ago, and she knew of DD's stealing habit. But, like us, she was lulled into a false sense of security. The neighbor seems to be handling it well, but we are embarrassed that DD did this. She asked if we would get the true story from DD, and I had to admit we probably wouldn't. If we're lucky, we get something approximating the truth, but we have to go through so many permutations before we get there that we never have confidence that we know everything. I'm not even sure DD really remembers all the details in these situations.
For better or for worse, she's a really bad thief. Her poor planning and logical abilities really become apparent in these situations. Of course, while her creative thinking skills are very poor when it comes to schoolwork (where her logic wins out), they seem to be functioning just fine when she needs to come up with 8 different excuses for her behavior.
At least I have Dark Chocolate Moose Munch to help me calm my nerves. And DD came home with a box of Sees Dark Chocolates, too. Does my honey know me or what???
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Our Growing Family
Made ya look!
OK, I admit that was a bit of a cheap shot... but our family really is growing. For her birthday earlier this month, we let DD pick out a hamster yesterday. Our newest family member is named Pumpkin, because of her orange fur, and because she joined us on Halloween. I have to admit, she's a cute little thing. And I'm amazed at how much food she can cram in her little cheeks. Almost as much as DS!
DD has strict instructions about making sure the cage door is closed at all times, not letting Pumpkin chew on the carpet, clothing, etc., not playing with her in the middle of the night. This afternoon DD had Pumpkin at the kitchen table with her in a hamster ball, while she did her homework (DD, not the hamster). I was worried that it would be too much of a distraction, but DD actually seemed to focus better than usual. Maybe having the hamster there kept her from wanting to run upstairs all the time to check on the cage in her room. We'll see whether that continues to hold in the future.
Pumpkin joins our other furry housemates: Cinder, the cat, and Cocoa, DS's guinea pig.
OK, I admit that was a bit of a cheap shot... but our family really is growing. For her birthday earlier this month, we let DD pick out a hamster yesterday. Our newest family member is named Pumpkin, because of her orange fur, and because she joined us on Halloween. I have to admit, she's a cute little thing. And I'm amazed at how much food she can cram in her little cheeks. Almost as much as DS!
DD has strict instructions about making sure the cage door is closed at all times, not letting Pumpkin chew on the carpet, clothing, etc., not playing with her in the middle of the night. This afternoon DD had Pumpkin at the kitchen table with her in a hamster ball, while she did her homework (DD, not the hamster). I was worried that it would be too much of a distraction, but DD actually seemed to focus better than usual. Maybe having the hamster there kept her from wanting to run upstairs all the time to check on the cage in her room. We'll see whether that continues to hold in the future.
Pumpkin joins our other furry housemates: Cinder, the cat, and Cocoa, DS's guinea pig.
As well as the "grumpy old lady" of our furry family, Galena (normally referred to as "Fuzzy Butt").
I think we now have reached our full pet capacity in this house. They're a pretty cute crew, though, and it looks like Pumpkin will be a fun addition.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Not the Mom I Want To Be
Tonight, I am disappointed in myself as a Mom. I'm just not doing the kind of job I know I should, and I'm not being the mom I want to be. I'm too quick to lose my temper, too focused on being in control, not willing to bend enough. I raise my voice way more than I should. My daughter especially frustrates me of late, though she is not (usually) doing it on purpose. Lately I step outside of myself at the end of the day and I don't always like what I see.
I don't think I'm a bad mom, really, I just don't feel like a very good one these days. I see lots of good moments - I see times when I laugh, or act silly with the kids, or manage to teach something just right, or manage to calmly handle something that actually drives me nuts. But that's not as often as I would like. Sometimes I wonder if I'm really the best mom for these kids, or if I am just causing more neuroses for their future shrinks to sort out.
Maybe it's too many days home with sick kids... maybe it's the stress... maybe it's my frustration at not being able to "fix" things... maybe it's the constant homework burden getting to me (or more likely DD's complete lack of drive to get it done)... maybe it's the pushing, pushing, pushing both kids are doing these days (yay preteens)... maybe it's my ill-advised drive to be "supermom." I guess I could make excuses all day, but the reality is that I need to get myself back on track. I need to spend more time expecting the supposedly mature, logical adult (me) to make the exceptions, keep the cool, adjust the attitude, instead of getting frustrated because the child affected by brain damage and trauma can't. I need to model proper emotional regulation by taking more of those deep breaths. I need to let go of my need to get things "just right" all the time. I need to pray more.
I need to work to get back to being the mom I want and need to be.
I don't think I'm a bad mom, really, I just don't feel like a very good one these days. I see lots of good moments - I see times when I laugh, or act silly with the kids, or manage to teach something just right, or manage to calmly handle something that actually drives me nuts. But that's not as often as I would like. Sometimes I wonder if I'm really the best mom for these kids, or if I am just causing more neuroses for their future shrinks to sort out.
Maybe it's too many days home with sick kids... maybe it's the stress... maybe it's my frustration at not being able to "fix" things... maybe it's the constant homework burden getting to me (or more likely DD's complete lack of drive to get it done)... maybe it's the pushing, pushing, pushing both kids are doing these days (yay preteens)... maybe it's my ill-advised drive to be "supermom." I guess I could make excuses all day, but the reality is that I need to get myself back on track. I need to spend more time expecting the supposedly mature, logical adult (me) to make the exceptions, keep the cool, adjust the attitude, instead of getting frustrated because the child affected by brain damage and trauma can't. I need to model proper emotional regulation by taking more of those deep breaths. I need to let go of my need to get things "just right" all the time. I need to pray more.
I need to work to get back to being the mom I want and need to be.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Ask Not for Whom the Child Whines...
Well, the flu has hit our household. DS started looking a little worn out on Sunday at church, and by the time we got home he had a fever of 99. Not much, but enough for me to tell him that he would not be playing outside that day. This resulted in tears and pouting, but I'm glad I held firm, because by evening his fever was up to 101, with a cough.
He's been out of school the last two days, and with his fever still at 100.8 this evening, tomorrow is out, too (Thursday and Friday are No School days). He's bummed that he won't be able to go to the cross country meet tomorrow, but it's a testament to how awful he feels that he didn't even put up a fuss when I told him that was no longer possible. He is, however, secretly hoping our snow from yesterday (3.5"!!!) will make a return so the event will be postponed.
The issue we are encountering, however, is the whine factor. I don't mean just the whiny way some folks have of suffering through their illnesses (and making us suffer along with them). I mean keening, like a dying animal.
We've had this issue with both children. It was especially a problem the first time DS got sick - he had the stomach flu (yes, yes, I know there is no such thing, but what else would you have me call it?) and had thrown up at day care. He was only 5 years old and had been with us only a couple of months. He just wailed the whole time he was sick. At the time, we reasoned that to his little mind, all he knew was that he felt miserable, and that he had no reason to believe us when we said he'd get better. After all, who were we to him?
DD followed a few days later with the same bug. She didn't wail so much (that time), but she seemed afraid to tell us when she threw up. I was up all night with her, and she actually thanked me for taking care of her when she was sick. It told me something of her past, when a 7-yr-old even noticed something like that. Her therapist told me later that that was a major breakthrough for DD, and we'd made an impression by doing what every parent does naturally.
However, when DD had her tonsils out, she took to howling at all hours. I decided she was just "milking it" when I would go into her room for the umpteenth time, ask what was wrong, and she would cheerfully reply, "Nothing!" Sigh.
So, knowing this has been an issue in the past, I forewarned DS that this would not be an effective strategy. "Which do you think will work better? A) Getting up and going across the hall to Mom & Dad's room to tell us something is wrong or B) Laying in bed keening away and hoping we hear." Well, he could agree A was a better option, so I hoped we were set. He is, after all, 11 years old!
Well, the first night he started howling away at bedtime because of his headache (which I reminded him was a surefire way to make a headache worse, not better!) He did it again the next night while in the shower. This morning, I was just slightly drifting into consciousness, while Jeff was showering in our bathroom, when I just barely heard a noise which might possibly be DS whimpering again. I went into his room and again reminded him this was not an effective method. After all, if I didn't have super-sonic-mom-hearing, I never would have even known he needed anything.
I find this a very odd behavior. I get it, he's uncomfortable, and nobody likes being sick, but come on! He's usually a pretty logical boy, so he knows this isn't a very good strategy. I have thought about not responding to this parent-summoning method, but I think it is a holdover of the attachment cycle, and I am loathe to break that trust that is building. Hopefully, he will remember the message tonight and come get me if he needs anything. But I won't be surprised if I am summoned with another howl.
He's been out of school the last two days, and with his fever still at 100.8 this evening, tomorrow is out, too (Thursday and Friday are No School days). He's bummed that he won't be able to go to the cross country meet tomorrow, but it's a testament to how awful he feels that he didn't even put up a fuss when I told him that was no longer possible. He is, however, secretly hoping our snow from yesterday (3.5"!!!) will make a return so the event will be postponed.
The issue we are encountering, however, is the whine factor. I don't mean just the whiny way some folks have of suffering through their illnesses (and making us suffer along with them). I mean keening, like a dying animal.
We've had this issue with both children. It was especially a problem the first time DS got sick - he had the stomach flu (yes, yes, I know there is no such thing, but what else would you have me call it?) and had thrown up at day care. He was only 5 years old and had been with us only a couple of months. He just wailed the whole time he was sick. At the time, we reasoned that to his little mind, all he knew was that he felt miserable, and that he had no reason to believe us when we said he'd get better. After all, who were we to him?
DD followed a few days later with the same bug. She didn't wail so much (that time), but she seemed afraid to tell us when she threw up. I was up all night with her, and she actually thanked me for taking care of her when she was sick. It told me something of her past, when a 7-yr-old even noticed something like that. Her therapist told me later that that was a major breakthrough for DD, and we'd made an impression by doing what every parent does naturally.
However, when DD had her tonsils out, she took to howling at all hours. I decided she was just "milking it" when I would go into her room for the umpteenth time, ask what was wrong, and she would cheerfully reply, "Nothing!" Sigh.
So, knowing this has been an issue in the past, I forewarned DS that this would not be an effective strategy. "Which do you think will work better? A) Getting up and going across the hall to Mom & Dad's room to tell us something is wrong or B) Laying in bed keening away and hoping we hear." Well, he could agree A was a better option, so I hoped we were set. He is, after all, 11 years old!
Well, the first night he started howling away at bedtime because of his headache (which I reminded him was a surefire way to make a headache worse, not better!) He did it again the next night while in the shower. This morning, I was just slightly drifting into consciousness, while Jeff was showering in our bathroom, when I just barely heard a noise which might possibly be DS whimpering again. I went into his room and again reminded him this was not an effective method. After all, if I didn't have super-sonic-mom-hearing, I never would have even known he needed anything.
I find this a very odd behavior. I get it, he's uncomfortable, and nobody likes being sick, but come on! He's usually a pretty logical boy, so he knows this isn't a very good strategy. I have thought about not responding to this parent-summoning method, but I think it is a holdover of the attachment cycle, and I am loathe to break that trust that is building. Hopefully, he will remember the message tonight and come get me if he needs anything. But I won't be surprised if I am summoned with another howl.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Living History
Tonight, DD had a writing assignment (yech!), and was supposed to do a story on what three historical figures she would like to have over for dinner, what she would serve them, and what they would talk about. We came up with Laura Ingalls Wilder and Ferdinand Magellan (she's studying explorers in history), and I told her that her third couldn't be another explorer.
She thought about it for a moment, and then suggested "George Washington." The conversation went something like this:
Me: "Is he someone you're really interested in?"
DD: "I mean the one who was in the war."
Me: "Well, he was our first president, and fought in the Revolutionary war."
DD: "I just want the one who was in the war."
Me: "There's only one George Washington."
DD: (quizzical look) "Nooo? Wasn't there more than one? I want the George W. Washington"
Me: "Oh you mean George W. Bush! Yes, there were two George Bushes who were president, a father and son. You can't do either of them, though, because they are still alive. You need a historical figure."
DD: "Oh."
Me: "George Washington was our first president and fought in the Revolutionary War."
DD: (shocked) "And he's still ALIVE?!?!?"
She thought about it for a moment, and then suggested "George Washington." The conversation went something like this:
Me: "Is he someone you're really interested in?"
DD: "I mean the one who was in the war."
Me: "Well, he was our first president, and fought in the Revolutionary war."
DD: "I just want the one who was in the war."
Me: "There's only one George Washington."
DD: (quizzical look) "Nooo? Wasn't there more than one? I want the George W. Washington"
Me: "Oh you mean George W. Bush! Yes, there were two George Bushes who were president, a father and son. You can't do either of them, though, because they are still alive. You need a historical figure."
DD: "Oh."
Me: "George Washington was our first president and fought in the Revolutionary War."
DD: (shocked) "And he's still ALIVE?!?!?"
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Two More Days... Two More Phone Calls
Yep - one yesterday, one today. Again the sinking stomach.
The staff has learned that the first words from their mouths need to be, "it's nothing bad," or I will start to panic. That's just sad.
But for once (or twice), neither call was bad.
Yesterday, it was the head of the program. He was taking one of the other boys out biking around a nearby lake, and DS wanted to know if he could come along and just go running (He loves to run). I said sure! Definitely a better outlet for extra energy than some of his past choices!
When I picked him up last night, I asked if he had run the entire 3 mile course. His answer?
"Yes, I ran the whole thing... well, most of it... actually I walked about 2/3 of it... no, not that much.... maybe 1/3 plus 1/2 of a third." I made him work through the fractions, which came out to half the course. That's the same as the whole thing, right? No matter, I'm just happy with the positive choice.
Today it was one of the counselors wanting to let me know about an incident. There were some neighborhood boys walking through the playground, and they grabbed the ball from a game DS was playing with some other kids and went around the corner. DS followed them to get it back, but unbeknownst to him, they had waited, hiding just out of sight, to jump him. They punched him several times in the back and ran off.
Apparently he handled it very well, and was being given ice for the pain. Since these kids aren't part of any program, nobody knows who they are and they can't really be disciplined. They're going to do their best to find them, and will kick them off the playground if they appear again, but really, there's no hope of any effective consequence. I'm just relieved that DS is fine. Besides, what am I going to do? Threaten to sue and press assault charges?
Of course, it says something when your first sense of relief comes from knowing that your child wasn't the aggressor this time, and then the relief that he's OK. I'm not sure what it says, but it says something....
The staff has learned that the first words from their mouths need to be, "it's nothing bad," or I will start to panic. That's just sad.
But for once (or twice), neither call was bad.
Yesterday, it was the head of the program. He was taking one of the other boys out biking around a nearby lake, and DS wanted to know if he could come along and just go running (He loves to run). I said sure! Definitely a better outlet for extra energy than some of his past choices!
When I picked him up last night, I asked if he had run the entire 3 mile course. His answer?
"Yes, I ran the whole thing... well, most of it... actually I walked about 2/3 of it... no, not that much.... maybe 1/3 plus 1/2 of a third." I made him work through the fractions, which came out to half the course. That's the same as the whole thing, right? No matter, I'm just happy with the positive choice.
Today it was one of the counselors wanting to let me know about an incident. There were some neighborhood boys walking through the playground, and they grabbed the ball from a game DS was playing with some other kids and went around the corner. DS followed them to get it back, but unbeknownst to him, they had waited, hiding just out of sight, to jump him. They punched him several times in the back and ran off.
Apparently he handled it very well, and was being given ice for the pain. Since these kids aren't part of any program, nobody knows who they are and they can't really be disciplined. They're going to do their best to find them, and will kick them off the playground if they appear again, but really, there's no hope of any effective consequence. I'm just relieved that DS is fine. Besides, what am I going to do? Threaten to sue and press assault charges?
Of course, it says something when your first sense of relief comes from knowing that your child wasn't the aggressor this time, and then the relief that he's OK. I'm not sure what it says, but it says something....
Monday, July 27, 2009
Another Day.... Another Rage
The phone rang again...
It was the day camp...
I cringe every time they call. My stomach sinks. I wonder, "What now???" If it's not him, it's her.
DS got angry at something small that happened (again) and went after another child (again). He has to leave for the day (again). They'll let him back tomorrow, but I will wait anxiously for the next phone call.
Last time it was a fight over the rules of a game... he ended up punching the kid in the eye. The kids made up and were fine, but the other parent threatened to sue and press assault charges if DS wasn't removed for 2 days.
This time it was because he was hit in the head with a ball during a dodgeball game... he chased and tried to choke the kid (DS claims he only tried a pressure point, like that is somehow better).
What will it be next time?
I don't think the Abilify is working anymore. I don't think he wants it to. I'll bet the voices are back, though he hasn't admitted it.
I think, at least in some small corner of his mind, he wants to get in trouble, get kicked out, get rejected. Safer to have the rejection be on your own terms than to have it happen when you start caring and trusting.
And he's supposed to go to camp next week (4 hrs away). How do we leave him there with any confidence? How do I take him to day camp tomorrow? How do I leave him at school? I can't stay home, and I can't homeschool, so please don't suggest that (much as I'd love to, no, I can't).
I want to cry. I want to run. I want my loving little boy back. I want Satan to leave him ALONE!
I know this is small potatoes compared to the issues many of you are facing. But if you have a few seconds, please pray for him. I don't even know what to pray for, but please pray for him.
Thanks.
It was the day camp...
I cringe every time they call. My stomach sinks. I wonder, "What now???" If it's not him, it's her.
DS got angry at something small that happened (again) and went after another child (again). He has to leave for the day (again). They'll let him back tomorrow, but I will wait anxiously for the next phone call.
Last time it was a fight over the rules of a game... he ended up punching the kid in the eye. The kids made up and were fine, but the other parent threatened to sue and press assault charges if DS wasn't removed for 2 days.
This time it was because he was hit in the head with a ball during a dodgeball game... he chased and tried to choke the kid (DS claims he only tried a pressure point, like that is somehow better).
What will it be next time?
I don't think the Abilify is working anymore. I don't think he wants it to. I'll bet the voices are back, though he hasn't admitted it.
I think, at least in some small corner of his mind, he wants to get in trouble, get kicked out, get rejected. Safer to have the rejection be on your own terms than to have it happen when you start caring and trusting.
And he's supposed to go to camp next week (4 hrs away). How do we leave him there with any confidence? How do I take him to day camp tomorrow? How do I leave him at school? I can't stay home, and I can't homeschool, so please don't suggest that (much as I'd love to, no, I can't).
I want to cry. I want to run. I want my loving little boy back. I want Satan to leave him ALONE!
I know this is small potatoes compared to the issues many of you are facing. But if you have a few seconds, please pray for him. I don't even know what to pray for, but please pray for him.
Thanks.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
A Contest and a Question
Jeff is having a contest!!
Ok, so he stole my prize, but I'll forgive him for that. (OK, I might razz him about it, and then forgive him.)
Please head over to the contest post on his blog, Ramblings of an FAS Dad, and take a look. He's got some pictures of himself as a cutie-patootie little boy (complete with lovely 70's fashion!), and a question for all of you.
If you don't mind, please post a link to the contest on your blog as well. The more input he gets, the better, and it will be particularly interesting to hear from those who don't know him IRL. Plus I'm really proud of him for telling his stories from his own perspective, and I hope more people will find him here.
Thanks!
Ok, so he stole my prize, but I'll forgive him for that. (OK, I might razz him about it, and then forgive him.)
Please head over to the contest post on his blog, Ramblings of an FAS Dad, and take a look. He's got some pictures of himself as a cutie-patootie little boy (complete with lovely 70's fashion!), and a question for all of you.
If you don't mind, please post a link to the contest on your blog as well. The more input he gets, the better, and it will be particularly interesting to hear from those who don't know him IRL. Plus I'm really proud of him for telling his stories from his own perspective, and I hope more people will find him here.
Thanks!
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Baseball Woes
Sorry I've been so bad about writing. Sometimes it seems like the same thing every day. DS being defiant and angry, DD stealing or doing something completely mystifying (like, for instance, why, exactly, did she need 1/4 bottle of shampoo to wash her hair the other night??? I know, I overreacted when I found out, but we've been over this a billion times already. I know, typical FASD, but still.... OK, I know, I know... ) So my life seems boring in it's same-old, same-oldness.
Actually, though, DD has been really good about not stealing lately. Of course, I check her pockets and bag every AM and PM as we walk in/out of the door of daycare, so no chance to sneak something. But it gives me a chance to praise her for not taking things, and as I remind her, if you can do it one day, you can do it the next. We did have a little problem with her filling a Ziploc bag with cereal at breakfast to eat later (not because she was hungry, but because she wanted to), but I truly think she didn't view this as stealing. Not a huge thing, but if every kid at day care did it.... Plus, she doesn't see shades of gray, so if we allow one thing, it leads to another. Others may disagree, but to me, the easiest way to avoid tumbling down a slippery slope is to catch yourself when the first step gets out of line.
The nice thing is, the other day there was a notice put up about the disappearance of Pokemon cards, Webkinz, and other small items. What a great feeling to know for once that it wasn't DD, and to know the staff knew it, too.
But I digress... this is supposed to be about baseball season (which, by the way, is taking forever to finish up!) Win/lose situations are always tough for DS, at least if he loses. He's fine when he wins, of course, and he was blessed this year to have a very strong team. He started out well, and the coaches were impressed with his improved attitude this year. A little moping when he struck out, but he'd pull it around and was shortly cheering his teammates with gusto. In fact, his supportiveness was impressive, and he was the first one to tell anyone, "That's OK" when they struck out.
As the season progressed, the kids had an impressive winning record. Too impressive. I knew the fall was coming, and it was going to be tough. They had DD first in the batting order for a while, and the stress was horrible for him. He tensed up and couldn't hit a thing. They moved him to second, and that helped a little, but his hitting was still spotty. He has to be the hero who hits the home runs (makes the touchdowns, shoot the baskets, bowl the strikes - you name it, he needs to be the hero) but that's not his strength, and he gets furious at himself and the world when he's not the hero. He's a great fielder, and a spectacular runner and base stealer, but no matter how much we tell him this, he sees it as insufficient. Discussions of teamwork and everyone contributing different strengths fall on deaf ears. Compliments are greeted with growls.
Then, about 2/3 through the season, he had a couple off nights, and it was downhill from there. He struck out repeatedly, and each time, his mood got blacker. It took longer and longer to get him to pull it around. This sort of thing is cumulative... the more he misses, the more stressed he gets... the more stressed he gets, the more he misses. It's vicious. And though he can easily forgive his teammates for errors they might make, he can't forgive himself. Any talking we do doesn't register. Talking to him when he is mad is just suicidal anyway.
The team went to the city tournament, and had a bye for the first round because they finished at the top of their league. They won the second game by the skin of their teeth, and DS was part of the win. He was up at the bottom of the last inning, score tied with 2 outs, a full count, and ended up being walked to 1st, the only man on base. With the next batter up, DS managed to steal 2nd, then 3rd. His speed is a real asset. The other team brought in their outfielders in an attempt to block all hits, but the batter slammed it into the tiny gap down the third base line, enabling DS to make the winning score. There was much rejoicing, and the game ended there, since we were last up. The winning batter didn't even bother to run the bases. DS was the hero of the night.
So they had the championship game the next day. DS is 2nd at bat, strikes out, and the fireworks begin. He started howling and bawling, stormed out of the dugout, and slammed himself down under a tree (better than running off). Refused to go back for the team's turn in the outfield. ("I hate myself," "I hate baseball," "I don't belong on this team," etc.) Finally calmed down, came up to bat again, struck out again, wash, rinse, repeat. Third time, same thing. He had two plays in the outfield where he stopped the ball just fine, but he tried to make the play at home and didn't pull it off, so he ended up throwing a fit out there and being pulled. It didn't matter to him that he'd been the "hero" the night before, or that lots of his teammates were striking out, too. It didn't matter to him that several of his teammates made much bigger flubs in the game, especially in fielding. It didn't even matter that in his calmer moments, he was an amazing cheerleader for those who made those errors and strike-outs. In his eyes, all he could see was his errors, and they were larger than life. The team lost the game, earning 2nd place in the city. None of them were gracious losers, but DS was among the worst.
Now, we always tell him that the issue is not with being disappointed, or getting mad, or any of that. Everyone would get upset with that. It's the extent to which he takes it that is the problem. Angry just doesn't even begin to describe it. He truly seems to push it on purpose - to flat out refuse to try any calming tricks. It's like he revels in the power and adrenaline rush the anger brings. At those times, he refuses to hear the positive. He sees it as lies, as fuel to the fire. And I worry what will happen someday when he's older, old enough to act on those negative feelings in the heat of the moment. In his heart of hearts, he truly doesn't believe we're really here for him forever, that we really worry about him, or that he's really worth loving. It frustrates me that I can't find the words to make it stick, to make it sink in, and to break through that wall.
So now, because of their great season, they are invited to the State Tournament. We are absolutely dreading this. Three more games, guaranteed, possibly more. Three more times, at least, to bite my lip in vexation as I pray that he finally gets a hit, finally manages to hold it together. It doesn't help that they are likely to have a tougher time of it, since they are playing against every other city's strong teams. And we are supposed to take him to summer camp later that day, and I don't look forward to dropping an angry little boy off for a week of summer fun.
I offered him an out, if he didn't think he could handle it. It would be very simple to explain we can't make the tournament because of camp (which actually is true - I'm going to have to do some late night driving on Sunday, depending on how they do). He insisted he wanted to go. We told him that now is the time to start showing he can handle other disappointments, in order to convince us he can handle the tournament. We've told him, and the coaches, that if it becomes the disaster it was last weekend, we're pulling him immediately. It won't be pretty, and it will be so much fun driving with him for 4 hours in that state, but better than the alternative. Oh, and Jeff has to work, so it's just me. Yay.
Not to mention, the fun we will have when we pick him up, because he is always inconsolable at the loss of his counselor at the end of the camp week. Every goodbye kills him, even those he knows are coming, even for those relationships he knows are meant to be temporary.
It's getting to be so that I dread what the next storm is going to be, when the you-know-what will hit the fan, when he'll finally go off the deep end and hurt himself or someone else. I have to brace myself every time I tell him "no," because it brings on "the Pout." Something as normal as having to clean the guinea pig cage or do his reading when he'd rather be outside is the source of another episode. Today it was because he couldn't go play with a friend who wasn't even home. Like it's our fault the kid's family isn't waiting by the phone for DS's call. Oh, and just now when I told him he could only have a few more carrot/celery sticks (instead of an unlimited amount) because dinner is coming soon. I'm so mean.
Sigh... I know there are many out there who have a lot worse episodes to deal with than this (In fact, I read those blogs sometimes to remind myself how smooth our road is in comparison). I am constantly praying and reminding myself that this is God's to fix, not mine. When we aren't enjoying our "episodes," these are two spectacular kids: caring, helpful, well mannered. I'm always hearing about how they go out of their way to make other kids feel welcomed and included. Plus, I think I have two of the few kids on the planet who actually beg for vegetables in the produce department (Brussels sprouts, snow peas, and carrots, among other things). In some ways, that's the biggest vexation - DS is so busy focusing on any small mistake he makes that he can't see what an amazing person he is, what a fantastic adult he will be. His drive for success can be a great asset, but he refuses to allow himself the leeway to be human.
Actually, though, DD has been really good about not stealing lately. Of course, I check her pockets and bag every AM and PM as we walk in/out of the door of daycare, so no chance to sneak something. But it gives me a chance to praise her for not taking things, and as I remind her, if you can do it one day, you can do it the next. We did have a little problem with her filling a Ziploc bag with cereal at breakfast to eat later (not because she was hungry, but because she wanted to), but I truly think she didn't view this as stealing. Not a huge thing, but if every kid at day care did it.... Plus, she doesn't see shades of gray, so if we allow one thing, it leads to another. Others may disagree, but to me, the easiest way to avoid tumbling down a slippery slope is to catch yourself when the first step gets out of line.
The nice thing is, the other day there was a notice put up about the disappearance of Pokemon cards, Webkinz, and other small items. What a great feeling to know for once that it wasn't DD, and to know the staff knew it, too.
But I digress... this is supposed to be about baseball season (which, by the way, is taking forever to finish up!) Win/lose situations are always tough for DS, at least if he loses. He's fine when he wins, of course, and he was blessed this year to have a very strong team. He started out well, and the coaches were impressed with his improved attitude this year. A little moping when he struck out, but he'd pull it around and was shortly cheering his teammates with gusto. In fact, his supportiveness was impressive, and he was the first one to tell anyone, "That's OK" when they struck out.
As the season progressed, the kids had an impressive winning record. Too impressive. I knew the fall was coming, and it was going to be tough. They had DD first in the batting order for a while, and the stress was horrible for him. He tensed up and couldn't hit a thing. They moved him to second, and that helped a little, but his hitting was still spotty. He has to be the hero who hits the home runs (makes the touchdowns, shoot the baskets, bowl the strikes - you name it, he needs to be the hero) but that's not his strength, and he gets furious at himself and the world when he's not the hero. He's a great fielder, and a spectacular runner and base stealer, but no matter how much we tell him this, he sees it as insufficient. Discussions of teamwork and everyone contributing different strengths fall on deaf ears. Compliments are greeted with growls.
Then, about 2/3 through the season, he had a couple off nights, and it was downhill from there. He struck out repeatedly, and each time, his mood got blacker. It took longer and longer to get him to pull it around. This sort of thing is cumulative... the more he misses, the more stressed he gets... the more stressed he gets, the more he misses. It's vicious. And though he can easily forgive his teammates for errors they might make, he can't forgive himself. Any talking we do doesn't register. Talking to him when he is mad is just suicidal anyway.
The team went to the city tournament, and had a bye for the first round because they finished at the top of their league. They won the second game by the skin of their teeth, and DS was part of the win. He was up at the bottom of the last inning, score tied with 2 outs, a full count, and ended up being walked to 1st, the only man on base. With the next batter up, DS managed to steal 2nd, then 3rd. His speed is a real asset. The other team brought in their outfielders in an attempt to block all hits, but the batter slammed it into the tiny gap down the third base line, enabling DS to make the winning score. There was much rejoicing, and the game ended there, since we were last up. The winning batter didn't even bother to run the bases. DS was the hero of the night.
So they had the championship game the next day. DS is 2nd at bat, strikes out, and the fireworks begin. He started howling and bawling, stormed out of the dugout, and slammed himself down under a tree (better than running off). Refused to go back for the team's turn in the outfield. ("I hate myself," "I hate baseball," "I don't belong on this team," etc.) Finally calmed down, came up to bat again, struck out again, wash, rinse, repeat. Third time, same thing. He had two plays in the outfield where he stopped the ball just fine, but he tried to make the play at home and didn't pull it off, so he ended up throwing a fit out there and being pulled. It didn't matter to him that he'd been the "hero" the night before, or that lots of his teammates were striking out, too. It didn't matter to him that several of his teammates made much bigger flubs in the game, especially in fielding. It didn't even matter that in his calmer moments, he was an amazing cheerleader for those who made those errors and strike-outs. In his eyes, all he could see was his errors, and they were larger than life. The team lost the game, earning 2nd place in the city. None of them were gracious losers, but DS was among the worst.
Now, we always tell him that the issue is not with being disappointed, or getting mad, or any of that. Everyone would get upset with that. It's the extent to which he takes it that is the problem. Angry just doesn't even begin to describe it. He truly seems to push it on purpose - to flat out refuse to try any calming tricks. It's like he revels in the power and adrenaline rush the anger brings. At those times, he refuses to hear the positive. He sees it as lies, as fuel to the fire. And I worry what will happen someday when he's older, old enough to act on those negative feelings in the heat of the moment. In his heart of hearts, he truly doesn't believe we're really here for him forever, that we really worry about him, or that he's really worth loving. It frustrates me that I can't find the words to make it stick, to make it sink in, and to break through that wall.
So now, because of their great season, they are invited to the State Tournament. We are absolutely dreading this. Three more games, guaranteed, possibly more. Three more times, at least, to bite my lip in vexation as I pray that he finally gets a hit, finally manages to hold it together. It doesn't help that they are likely to have a tougher time of it, since they are playing against every other city's strong teams. And we are supposed to take him to summer camp later that day, and I don't look forward to dropping an angry little boy off for a week of summer fun.
I offered him an out, if he didn't think he could handle it. It would be very simple to explain we can't make the tournament because of camp (which actually is true - I'm going to have to do some late night driving on Sunday, depending on how they do). He insisted he wanted to go. We told him that now is the time to start showing he can handle other disappointments, in order to convince us he can handle the tournament. We've told him, and the coaches, that if it becomes the disaster it was last weekend, we're pulling him immediately. It won't be pretty, and it will be so much fun driving with him for 4 hours in that state, but better than the alternative. Oh, and Jeff has to work, so it's just me. Yay.
Not to mention, the fun we will have when we pick him up, because he is always inconsolable at the loss of his counselor at the end of the camp week. Every goodbye kills him, even those he knows are coming, even for those relationships he knows are meant to be temporary.
It's getting to be so that I dread what the next storm is going to be, when the you-know-what will hit the fan, when he'll finally go off the deep end and hurt himself or someone else. I have to brace myself every time I tell him "no," because it brings on "the Pout." Something as normal as having to clean the guinea pig cage or do his reading when he'd rather be outside is the source of another episode. Today it was because he couldn't go play with a friend who wasn't even home. Like it's our fault the kid's family isn't waiting by the phone for DS's call. Oh, and just now when I told him he could only have a few more carrot/celery sticks (instead of an unlimited amount) because dinner is coming soon. I'm so mean.
Sigh... I know there are many out there who have a lot worse episodes to deal with than this (In fact, I read those blogs sometimes to remind myself how smooth our road is in comparison). I am constantly praying and reminding myself that this is God's to fix, not mine. When we aren't enjoying our "episodes," these are two spectacular kids: caring, helpful, well mannered. I'm always hearing about how they go out of their way to make other kids feel welcomed and included. Plus, I think I have two of the few kids on the planet who actually beg for vegetables in the produce department (Brussels sprouts, snow peas, and carrots, among other things). In some ways, that's the biggest vexation - DS is so busy focusing on any small mistake he makes that he can't see what an amazing person he is, what a fantastic adult he will be. His drive for success can be a great asset, but he refuses to allow himself the leeway to be human.
Monday, June 29, 2009
My Children in LolCats...
Both these came up today, and there's one for each child:
Here is DD's typical reaction when caught in the act:
And here is DS's typical reaction when told "no":
(Ok, technically the second one is a LolPenguin...)
Here is DD's typical reaction when caught in the act:
And here is DS's typical reaction when told "no":
(Ok, technically the second one is a LolPenguin...)
Sunday, June 28, 2009
A New Perspective
Nothing much new in my world today - DS still angry at everything (hissy fit because he didn't get any strikes at bowling), DD still acting oddly (hissy fit at classmate's "water" themed birthday party because she was getting wet - duh???), me still not getting enough stuff done around the house.
The one person I don't write about a lot is my wonderful husband. The thing is, without his encouragement, I never would have started writing. Without his support, I wouldn't survive long enough to have anything to write ;-) Until now, I have called him "DH," but I am going to switch to calling him Jeff, since that's his name (duh, again), and since he now has his own blog. And as he said, since we are both using our real first names, it's a little silly to keep using nicknames.
You can get his introduction here: Ramblings of an FAS Dad
Jeff has a very different perspective on things than I do. First of all, he's male (of course), and that puts our experiences in a different light. But more importantly (for the purposes of blogging), he writes from the perspective of an adoptee, as well as an adoptive parent. Even more importantly, he writes from the perspective of one with (suspected) FASD. I say suspected because there really is no way to prove it. It didn't become apparent to us until we started researching DD's disability, and lots of pieces started falling into place.
When I first met Jeff, I knew only that he was adopted, and that he was different from any man I'd met previously. His focus and devotion to our relationship were so amazing, that at first I thought something was "wrong." I mean, here was the first man with whom I didn't feel I had to work to prove I was worthy. I didn't have to worry about when I would say the wrong thing and make him leave. This threw me for a loop at first, but within a couple of months I was falling in love.
As I learned more about him, I heard about the difficulties he had childhood. Rages, holes punched in walls, troubles in school, food stealing, and (later in life) difficulties with money management. His parents had handled this with some of the same strategies we use - consistent expectations, clear boundaries, consequences, etc. But they did not have the benefit of support we do now. There was no diagnosis of FASD at that point - especially not in the rural area in which they live. And of course there was no internet!
After we adopted DS, and began learning more about FASD, some pieces started falling into place. First it was a hunch (some of the behaviors seemed to match), then it was a suspicion (he has the FASD "look" in his childhood pictures), then it became a strong likelihood (his parents started reading about FASD, and saw him in it). We don't have any way to be certain, of course, but there are so many pieces that fit. And I think it has brought a sense of comfort - to Jeff because he now has an explanation for some of the things he faced, and to his parents because they now know they were dealing with brain damage, not something they had done "wrong" as parents.
But that's his story. I want to tell you how blessed I am to be married to him. On the surface, our relationship wouldn't seem to make sense. A big city girl from CA and a small-town boy from the midwest. Our social and educational backgrounds are very different. But love and relationships are about more than history or "book smarts," and his unwavering support of me are more precious than anything in this world. After the bumps and bruises in my childhood, I most needed a spouse whose love I could trust unwaveringly, and I have that in spades. I guess we just complement each other in so many ways. Isn't it amazing how God does that???? And I know I get the better end of this deal - just look at what he did for our anniversary!
I think the thing we, as parents of FASD children, can gain most from his perspective is a sense of hope. We so often hear only the "bad news" - the things that can go wrong, the jail statistics - that we have the feeling that we are bailing the ocean with a dixie cup. But his story isn't bad news. He is gainfully employed, well respected, and the most amazing husband and father anyone could ask for. I know he has a hard time believing the best of himself (an attachment disorder holdover), but I will never stop telling him how blessed I am to have him in my life.
Have I gushed enough? Will you go say hi to him? Send him my everlasting love ;-)
The one person I don't write about a lot is my wonderful husband. The thing is, without his encouragement, I never would have started writing. Without his support, I wouldn't survive long enough to have anything to write ;-) Until now, I have called him "DH," but I am going to switch to calling him Jeff, since that's his name (duh, again), and since he now has his own blog. And as he said, since we are both using our real first names, it's a little silly to keep using nicknames.
You can get his introduction here: Ramblings of an FAS Dad
Jeff has a very different perspective on things than I do. First of all, he's male (of course), and that puts our experiences in a different light. But more importantly (for the purposes of blogging), he writes from the perspective of an adoptee, as well as an adoptive parent. Even more importantly, he writes from the perspective of one with (suspected) FASD. I say suspected because there really is no way to prove it. It didn't become apparent to us until we started researching DD's disability, and lots of pieces started falling into place.
When I first met Jeff, I knew only that he was adopted, and that he was different from any man I'd met previously. His focus and devotion to our relationship were so amazing, that at first I thought something was "wrong." I mean, here was the first man with whom I didn't feel I had to work to prove I was worthy. I didn't have to worry about when I would say the wrong thing and make him leave. This threw me for a loop at first, but within a couple of months I was falling in love.
As I learned more about him, I heard about the difficulties he had childhood. Rages, holes punched in walls, troubles in school, food stealing, and (later in life) difficulties with money management. His parents had handled this with some of the same strategies we use - consistent expectations, clear boundaries, consequences, etc. But they did not have the benefit of support we do now. There was no diagnosis of FASD at that point - especially not in the rural area in which they live. And of course there was no internet!
After we adopted DS, and began learning more about FASD, some pieces started falling into place. First it was a hunch (some of the behaviors seemed to match), then it was a suspicion (he has the FASD "look" in his childhood pictures), then it became a strong likelihood (his parents started reading about FASD, and saw him in it). We don't have any way to be certain, of course, but there are so many pieces that fit. And I think it has brought a sense of comfort - to Jeff because he now has an explanation for some of the things he faced, and to his parents because they now know they were dealing with brain damage, not something they had done "wrong" as parents.
But that's his story. I want to tell you how blessed I am to be married to him. On the surface, our relationship wouldn't seem to make sense. A big city girl from CA and a small-town boy from the midwest. Our social and educational backgrounds are very different. But love and relationships are about more than history or "book smarts," and his unwavering support of me are more precious than anything in this world. After the bumps and bruises in my childhood, I most needed a spouse whose love I could trust unwaveringly, and I have that in spades. I guess we just complement each other in so many ways. Isn't it amazing how God does that???? And I know I get the better end of this deal - just look at what he did for our anniversary!
I think the thing we, as parents of FASD children, can gain most from his perspective is a sense of hope. We so often hear only the "bad news" - the things that can go wrong, the jail statistics - that we have the feeling that we are bailing the ocean with a dixie cup. But his story isn't bad news. He is gainfully employed, well respected, and the most amazing husband and father anyone could ask for. I know he has a hard time believing the best of himself (an attachment disorder holdover), but I will never stop telling him how blessed I am to have him in my life.
Have I gushed enough? Will you go say hi to him? Send him my everlasting love ;-)
Thursday, June 25, 2009
So Here We Are Again
I'm back at home this morning about 1.5 hrs after I left. Went to deliver the kids to their day camp program on the way to work. (Yeah, in the normal world, people leave their 11 & 12 yr. olds home alone during the day. I don't live in that world. Other people think I'm weird for not trusting them. They don't know my kids.)
Anyway, yesterday there was an incident with DS and another child. They were arguing over a game in the gym, and DS punched the other kid, giving him a black eye. The director called me, discussed their actions, and was very realistic about it. They know that these things do happen (not that it's OK), that DS was very apologetic and remorseful afterwards, and that the kids had made up and moved on within the hour. We were in agreement that they would provide whatever consequences deemed appropriate (loss of gym privileges next week), we would provide our own at home (3 days of grounding, apology note, 200 lines of "I will not hurt other people when I'm mad", and loss of treat day next Wed. @ day camp), and the issue would be closed and ready to move on. They have been extremely understanding this year, especially considering what we went through at the end of last summer, and have commented repeatedly on what a great kid he is. They know his history, and how far he has come over the years.
Well, I found out this morning that the other Dad is furious. He wants DS pulled out of the program or other discipline, or he is threatening to press assault charges. He will not acknowledge that his child might have had a part in the argument. That doesn't make DS's behavior OK by a long shot, but at least be realistic enough to know that no kid acts in a vacuum. Apparently he's already discussed this with the police enough to have determined that this counts as an "assault." Great. Just what we need.
The program directors were ready to stand behind us and their decision. I appreciated that, and as I was leaving decided that we'd better call DS in together to discuss his loss of gym privileges, just so I could help prevent some of the fallout. Well, I could tell right away that he was getting mad, so I reminded him to use his tricks to get back on track. It continued. I tried rubbing his back and holding him. It continued. I suggested he needed to be headed in a different direction before I would feel comfortable leaving, and he growled, "I'm fine!" (Oh yeah, that convinced me...) Hard glares, fierce movements, clenched fists, quivering neck muscles. After several minutes of this, and the failure of all my attempts to get him to turn a corner, I decided retreat was the better part of valor. I announced we were leaving for the day, and I would work from home (which, as you can see, I'm doing right now).
This did not go over well. I got howls, protests, and more "I'm FINE"s. He sat on the floor and started banging his head against the wall. Why does he think this is going to convince me? After grabbing his stuff, I asked him to come along with me, which he, of course, refused. I told him that if he wasn't up with me by the end of a 5 count, the next step was a fireman's carry out of the building, which I didn't figure he wanted in front of his buds. On one he finally got up, and I told him to hold my hand, and after another round of arguments he complied. Growled on the way out, "You hate me," and "You never believe me," and "You're always out to get me." Got him to the car, drove in silence to work (he plugged his ears when I turned on the radio - I ignored him), got my stuff, and headed home. Thank goodness I have an understanding boss and a laptop!
By the ride back, he'd calmed enough to talk (or at least listen). I told him about the threatened assault charge, and that sometimes I had to make decisions about what I felt was the best course of action. The choices I make may not always be what he would like, and they may not even be the correct ones in the long run, but I have to do what I feel is best under the circumstances. That's part of my job as a mom. He might have been fine, I don't know. But I couldn't run the risk that within a half hour I'd be getting a call about him doing something else, giving fuel to that dad's fire, and I just wasn't confident that wouldn't be the case.
Before we got home, DS apologized for the things he'd said and I forgave him. I reminded him again that we love him, and that he's a wonderful kid. He sees only his anger, and has little positive sense of self. He refuses to believe that the good stuff we say is true, and of course it's always easier to believe the bad than the good. Last night he was wailing, "Why do I have to get so angry?" He doesn't want to be this way, and the best I can do sometimes is love him, tell him the good stuff, and remind him that God has a plan for him in all this, even if we can't see it.
Right now DS is calmly reading on the sofa. I know he will be fine for the rest of the day - he always is in these circumstances. You would not think this was the same kid. And tomorrow he will be fine at day camp, too. I told the staff they can take credit for him being out today, if that smooths things over with the other dad. My ego won't be hurt. They said they are just going to let him know that DS will be out today, and not going on the field trip tomorrow. He doesn't need to know that I pulled him out voluntarily, and that DS had already decided several days ago to skip the trip tomorrow in favor of swimming lessons.
As I was letting my co-worker know that I was leaving, she asked, "How do you deal with that?" I wish I had answer. The best I can say is, "Pray a lot and hang on for the ride."
Anyway, yesterday there was an incident with DS and another child. They were arguing over a game in the gym, and DS punched the other kid, giving him a black eye. The director called me, discussed their actions, and was very realistic about it. They know that these things do happen (not that it's OK), that DS was very apologetic and remorseful afterwards, and that the kids had made up and moved on within the hour. We were in agreement that they would provide whatever consequences deemed appropriate (loss of gym privileges next week), we would provide our own at home (3 days of grounding, apology note, 200 lines of "I will not hurt other people when I'm mad", and loss of treat day next Wed. @ day camp), and the issue would be closed and ready to move on. They have been extremely understanding this year, especially considering what we went through at the end of last summer, and have commented repeatedly on what a great kid he is. They know his history, and how far he has come over the years.
Well, I found out this morning that the other Dad is furious. He wants DS pulled out of the program or other discipline, or he is threatening to press assault charges. He will not acknowledge that his child might have had a part in the argument. That doesn't make DS's behavior OK by a long shot, but at least be realistic enough to know that no kid acts in a vacuum. Apparently he's already discussed this with the police enough to have determined that this counts as an "assault." Great. Just what we need.
The program directors were ready to stand behind us and their decision. I appreciated that, and as I was leaving decided that we'd better call DS in together to discuss his loss of gym privileges, just so I could help prevent some of the fallout. Well, I could tell right away that he was getting mad, so I reminded him to use his tricks to get back on track. It continued. I tried rubbing his back and holding him. It continued. I suggested he needed to be headed in a different direction before I would feel comfortable leaving, and he growled, "I'm fine!" (Oh yeah, that convinced me...) Hard glares, fierce movements, clenched fists, quivering neck muscles. After several minutes of this, and the failure of all my attempts to get him to turn a corner, I decided retreat was the better part of valor. I announced we were leaving for the day, and I would work from home (which, as you can see, I'm doing right now).
This did not go over well. I got howls, protests, and more "I'm FINE"s. He sat on the floor and started banging his head against the wall. Why does he think this is going to convince me? After grabbing his stuff, I asked him to come along with me, which he, of course, refused. I told him that if he wasn't up with me by the end of a 5 count, the next step was a fireman's carry out of the building, which I didn't figure he wanted in front of his buds. On one he finally got up, and I told him to hold my hand, and after another round of arguments he complied. Growled on the way out, "You hate me," and "You never believe me," and "You're always out to get me." Got him to the car, drove in silence to work (he plugged his ears when I turned on the radio - I ignored him), got my stuff, and headed home. Thank goodness I have an understanding boss and a laptop!
By the ride back, he'd calmed enough to talk (or at least listen). I told him about the threatened assault charge, and that sometimes I had to make decisions about what I felt was the best course of action. The choices I make may not always be what he would like, and they may not even be the correct ones in the long run, but I have to do what I feel is best under the circumstances. That's part of my job as a mom. He might have been fine, I don't know. But I couldn't run the risk that within a half hour I'd be getting a call about him doing something else, giving fuel to that dad's fire, and I just wasn't confident that wouldn't be the case.
Before we got home, DS apologized for the things he'd said and I forgave him. I reminded him again that we love him, and that he's a wonderful kid. He sees only his anger, and has little positive sense of self. He refuses to believe that the good stuff we say is true, and of course it's always easier to believe the bad than the good. Last night he was wailing, "Why do I have to get so angry?" He doesn't want to be this way, and the best I can do sometimes is love him, tell him the good stuff, and remind him that God has a plan for him in all this, even if we can't see it.
Right now DS is calmly reading on the sofa. I know he will be fine for the rest of the day - he always is in these circumstances. You would not think this was the same kid. And tomorrow he will be fine at day camp, too. I told the staff they can take credit for him being out today, if that smooths things over with the other dad. My ego won't be hurt. They said they are just going to let him know that DS will be out today, and not going on the field trip tomorrow. He doesn't need to know that I pulled him out voluntarily, and that DS had already decided several days ago to skip the trip tomorrow in favor of swimming lessons.
As I was letting my co-worker know that I was leaving, she asked, "How do you deal with that?" I wish I had answer. The best I can say is, "Pray a lot and hang on for the ride."
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Excuses, Excuses
So, it's been a while. I don't know why - I guess the rush of starting the summer routine, a lot of new activities, some health issues, and a new found addiction to Facebook. I guess for some reason, inspiration just hasn't hit me lately, and when it has, exhaustion has hit at the same time.
But that doesn't mean things are dull around here. Nosireee.... we seem to have stumbled into the lovely land of Preteen Angst. And I know this is just the beginning. Sigh...
For DD, it is taking the form of a general sort of "glumness" about everything. I suppose in some ways it was time for her to tone it down a bit, but I do miss her smile. It's all just so serious now. And when she's not being gloomy, she's telling us what she doesn't want to do. "I don't want to go to bed." "I don't want to take my pill" etc. etc. etc. Add in a generous dose of pouting over everything that is denied to her, and it's all fun. Hm... how many more years until 20?
For DS, it's more anger, over everything. Yesterday it was doing his daily reading before playtime. Two days ago it was because I told him to cut his spaghetti in the restaurant instead of slurping it in giant messy bites. Before that it was because I told him to remember to do a better job brushing his teeth in the morning because he still had gunk in them after brushing them twice that night. Before that it was having to put a shirt in the laundry. Any instruction that doesn't end with "go outside and play" results in glares, growls, snarls, and general grumpiness. Oh joy!
And, it's only 2 weeks into the summer program, and I've already received a call from the staff to let me know DS gave another kid a black eye over a fight over a game. I hope this isn't the start of another bad spell like we had last summer. DS insists he doesn't want that to happen, and I believe he is sincere. He's done a better job of taking the initiative to find a quiet spot when his anger flares until he has cooled off. But some days he just seems to want to wallow in it, and that's what drives me bonkers.
One new thing we've discovered about which I'm hoping someone can give me some insight. We've suspected for a while that DS has some mild sensory disintegration issues. Nothing debilitating that keeps him from functioning, but he has an extreme craving for touch, especially tickling or wrestling. He loves rough materials, and tight hugs, and things that buzz, etc. He's always been my cuddler, and will frequently ask (or demand) that I rub his back or scratch his arms lightly with my nails. If I don't do it voluntarily, he will grab my hand and do it himself (he loves my nails). I figure it's a natural response from a child who probably didn't get a whole lot of physical affection as an infant.
Sometimes I've used this to our advantage - when he's fidgety, rubbing his back will generally settle him down. Other times I've stopped him when he's getting towards the edge (and on our nerves) and given him a "strong hug," sometimes with his arms at his side to get that papoose feeling. Lately, I've been trying to remember to rub his arms or back when he's mad. When I remember, I get the most interesting response.
The other day, he was slipping into fury over something (I believe it was the tooth brushing incident), and was sitting on the bed for quite a while glaring, clenching his fists, and refusing to answer us. I reached over and started just rubbing his arm. Then I told him I'd rub his back if he'd move closer, which he did. A minute later, it was like a dam broke, and he was cuddling into me for a hug. I tried the same thing at his baseball game, where he started kicking and throwing things because he struck out. After 10 minutes of this, I sat next to him on the bench and just rubbed his back - he was out of it within 30 seconds. He even reported yesterday that he was angry at the summer program, but he went to his "calming spot" and rubbed his arms, which helped him calm himself.
It's the oddest thing - when he is in "anger mode," it's like this alien kid showed up and took over my sweet little boy's body. He gets stuck there for a long time. And then the rubbing is like flipping the switch to bring him back. I'm trying to work with it more, see when it works and when it doesn't (haven't had it not work yet), see what works best, and figure out a way for him to use this on his own.
So anyway, the search for solutions (and patience) continues. We still haven't found it yet!
But that doesn't mean things are dull around here. Nosireee.... we seem to have stumbled into the lovely land of Preteen Angst. And I know this is just the beginning. Sigh...
For DD, it is taking the form of a general sort of "glumness" about everything. I suppose in some ways it was time for her to tone it down a bit, but I do miss her smile. It's all just so serious now. And when she's not being gloomy, she's telling us what she doesn't want to do. "I don't want to go to bed." "I don't want to take my pill" etc. etc. etc. Add in a generous dose of pouting over everything that is denied to her, and it's all fun. Hm... how many more years until 20?
For DS, it's more anger, over everything. Yesterday it was doing his daily reading before playtime. Two days ago it was because I told him to cut his spaghetti in the restaurant instead of slurping it in giant messy bites. Before that it was because I told him to remember to do a better job brushing his teeth in the morning because he still had gunk in them after brushing them twice that night. Before that it was having to put a shirt in the laundry. Any instruction that doesn't end with "go outside and play" results in glares, growls, snarls, and general grumpiness. Oh joy!
And, it's only 2 weeks into the summer program, and I've already received a call from the staff to let me know DS gave another kid a black eye over a fight over a game. I hope this isn't the start of another bad spell like we had last summer. DS insists he doesn't want that to happen, and I believe he is sincere. He's done a better job of taking the initiative to find a quiet spot when his anger flares until he has cooled off. But some days he just seems to want to wallow in it, and that's what drives me bonkers.
One new thing we've discovered about which I'm hoping someone can give me some insight. We've suspected for a while that DS has some mild sensory disintegration issues. Nothing debilitating that keeps him from functioning, but he has an extreme craving for touch, especially tickling or wrestling. He loves rough materials, and tight hugs, and things that buzz, etc. He's always been my cuddler, and will frequently ask (or demand) that I rub his back or scratch his arms lightly with my nails. If I don't do it voluntarily, he will grab my hand and do it himself (he loves my nails). I figure it's a natural response from a child who probably didn't get a whole lot of physical affection as an infant.
Sometimes I've used this to our advantage - when he's fidgety, rubbing his back will generally settle him down. Other times I've stopped him when he's getting towards the edge (and on our nerves) and given him a "strong hug," sometimes with his arms at his side to get that papoose feeling. Lately, I've been trying to remember to rub his arms or back when he's mad. When I remember, I get the most interesting response.
The other day, he was slipping into fury over something (I believe it was the tooth brushing incident), and was sitting on the bed for quite a while glaring, clenching his fists, and refusing to answer us. I reached over and started just rubbing his arm. Then I told him I'd rub his back if he'd move closer, which he did. A minute later, it was like a dam broke, and he was cuddling into me for a hug. I tried the same thing at his baseball game, where he started kicking and throwing things because he struck out. After 10 minutes of this, I sat next to him on the bench and just rubbed his back - he was out of it within 30 seconds. He even reported yesterday that he was angry at the summer program, but he went to his "calming spot" and rubbed his arms, which helped him calm himself.
It's the oddest thing - when he is in "anger mode," it's like this alien kid showed up and took over my sweet little boy's body. He gets stuck there for a long time. And then the rubbing is like flipping the switch to bring him back. I'm trying to work with it more, see when it works and when it doesn't (haven't had it not work yet), see what works best, and figure out a way for him to use this on his own.
So anyway, the search for solutions (and patience) continues. We still haven't found it yet!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
No More Teachers, No More Books....
Tomorrow is the last day of school for our kids. And while this will create all sorts of daycare headaches for a couple of weeks, I am probably more relieved to reach this milestone than the kids are!
No more spending hours each night locked in the kitchen, so that DD actually works on her homework instead of just picking at her cuticles and pretending too work whenever I walk in the room.
No more tensing up every time the phone rings with the school number, wondering who did what this time. (Now I just have to watch for the summer program's number...)
No more checking the teachers' website every afternoon to verify that what DD claims is her homework is actually correct. Too often she "forgets" some of the assignments.
No more rushing in the morning to ensure that all the requisite fruit/snacks/paperwork is completed and remembered.
No more memory work in the car on the way to school.
No more exhaution in the PM after the kids get to bed too late, so I can actually have energy to blog again.
I'm actually very pleased with how things have gone this year (for most days, anyway), but by this point, the teachers' patience with DD has worn thin, DS is getting tense because endings always depress him and throw him out of whack, and I just want to spend afternoons in the yard instead of manning the homework table. Plus, this is when I can spend more time enjoying my kids and less time policing them. And that's good for everyone!
No more spending hours each night locked in the kitchen, so that DD actually works on her homework instead of just picking at her cuticles and pretending too work whenever I walk in the room.
No more tensing up every time the phone rings with the school number, wondering who did what this time. (Now I just have to watch for the summer program's number...)
No more checking the teachers' website every afternoon to verify that what DD claims is her homework is actually correct. Too often she "forgets" some of the assignments.
No more rushing in the morning to ensure that all the requisite fruit/snacks/paperwork is completed and remembered.
No more memory work in the car on the way to school.
No more exhaution in the PM after the kids get to bed too late, so I can actually have energy to blog again.
I'm actually very pleased with how things have gone this year (for most days, anyway), but by this point, the teachers' patience with DD has worn thin, DS is getting tense because endings always depress him and throw him out of whack, and I just want to spend afternoons in the yard instead of manning the homework table. Plus, this is when I can spend more time enjoying my kids and less time policing them. And that's good for everyone!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
A Banner Day
Ah what a joy it is to raise my children. To send them off to school knowing they will have a productive day full of learning and friendship.
Not.
I got a call from school about 1:30, informing me that DS was being removed from class for the remainder of the day for choking another boy on the playground and slamming his head on the ground, and when could we pick him up please? Fortunately, DH was off work in an hour, and they were willing to hold him in the Principal's office until then. Turns out it was an argument with a good friend of his over whether a ball was in or out in four-square. Even DS realizes this was a dumb reason (his words) for a fight. Once he calms down, he's always pretty good at seeing the error in his ways, but can't stop himself in the heat of the moment.
We just added a little extra Abilify in the mornings, hoping to give DS a little more control, but it's still a little early to tell if it's helping. He's been a lot more "combustible" the last couple of months, and we are concerned that we are headed right back where we were last summer. We received midterm reports, and learned that he's been taking regular trips to the Principal's office lately for disobeying his teacher (whom he loves). I wish they would have told us sooner, so we could have dealt with it sooner. Nothing like finding out there's an issue after it's already grown out of control.
Then, we received an e-mail from DD's teacher telling us that she threw a grand mal fit over a spelling assignment which was incomplete, then threw another in Computer class and was defiant in that class. So she has been banned from the computer room for the remainder of the year (1.5 weeks), and will take a poor grade because she is way behind on the typing work she was supposed to be doing all year (again, thanks for letting me know!) The thing that gets me is that she raged for quite a while at the teacher, but the minute Mrs. K suggested they would need to call me, she stopped an apologized. The fact that DD could stop on a dime like that tells me she could have stopped earlier, and instead chose to continue her fit as long as she felt she could get away with it. Even DD admitted that was the case, and she generally isn't our introspective one.
This is on top of her being banned last week from the locker room and attached bathroom for the remainder of the year, because she can't go in there and keep her fingers out of others' stuff. Oh, she denies it, but I know she's poking around in backpacks and lockers instead of doing her business and getting out. She's always had a bathroom fetish, and can't seem to get out in less than 20 minutes without a reminder. She even admitted that she's been taking 4-5 bathroom trips a day (again, thanks for letting me know!)- way more than really needed - so she can "stare at things." She's not happy about having to use the lower grades' bathroom for the next few weeks, but that's the consequence.
I love this school, really, and the kids have thrived there this year, but I am a bit frustrated about their notifications. I made it very clear at the beginning of the year to PLEASE LET ME KNOW if there were any issues, the sooner the better. Once I can address an issue, it generally starts to improve, but I can't deal with things of which I have no knowledge. This is particularly true with DD, who doesn't generalize from one situation to another. So telling her to behave and not get defiant with Mrs. A does not automatically translate to behaving and complying for Mr. Z. We have to cover each scenario individually. Plus, if she gets away with something once, she will continue to do the same thing repeatedly until pushed to comply.
For the last several months, I have received few complaints. She's been getting A's and B's on her report card. For me, this means things are going fine, right? Then all of a sudden I get a call telling me they want to start sending her home immediately if she is at all defiant, because it has become too much of a problem. Ummm... no, that should be a last resort, and what can we try first, and if you had let me know sooner, we could have dealt with this! They did agree to try a countdown and calling me first, then going home if she still can't regulate, but that was only because I refused to have this be a 1-strike-you're-out system. Sigh... I think we need to have some long conversations before the next school year starts, but at this point in the year, with only 1.5 weeks left, I'll just wait until fall.
Ah well, tomorrow is another day, right? And I won't get another phone call, right? They won't both pull this at the same time again, right?
Yeah, yeah, I know I'm delusional. Just let me have my fantasies, all right?
Not.
I got a call from school about 1:30, informing me that DS was being removed from class for the remainder of the day for choking another boy on the playground and slamming his head on the ground, and when could we pick him up please? Fortunately, DH was off work in an hour, and they were willing to hold him in the Principal's office until then. Turns out it was an argument with a good friend of his over whether a ball was in or out in four-square. Even DS realizes this was a dumb reason (his words) for a fight. Once he calms down, he's always pretty good at seeing the error in his ways, but can't stop himself in the heat of the moment.
We just added a little extra Abilify in the mornings, hoping to give DS a little more control, but it's still a little early to tell if it's helping. He's been a lot more "combustible" the last couple of months, and we are concerned that we are headed right back where we were last summer. We received midterm reports, and learned that he's been taking regular trips to the Principal's office lately for disobeying his teacher (whom he loves). I wish they would have told us sooner, so we could have dealt with it sooner. Nothing like finding out there's an issue after it's already grown out of control.
Then, we received an e-mail from DD's teacher telling us that she threw a grand mal fit over a spelling assignment which was incomplete, then threw another in Computer class and was defiant in that class. So she has been banned from the computer room for the remainder of the year (1.5 weeks), and will take a poor grade because she is way behind on the typing work she was supposed to be doing all year (again, thanks for letting me know!) The thing that gets me is that she raged for quite a while at the teacher, but the minute Mrs. K suggested they would need to call me, she stopped an apologized. The fact that DD could stop on a dime like that tells me she could have stopped earlier, and instead chose to continue her fit as long as she felt she could get away with it. Even DD admitted that was the case, and she generally isn't our introspective one.
This is on top of her being banned last week from the locker room and attached bathroom for the remainder of the year, because she can't go in there and keep her fingers out of others' stuff. Oh, she denies it, but I know she's poking around in backpacks and lockers instead of doing her business and getting out. She's always had a bathroom fetish, and can't seem to get out in less than 20 minutes without a reminder. She even admitted that she's been taking 4-5 bathroom trips a day (again, thanks for letting me know!)- way more than really needed - so she can "stare at things." She's not happy about having to use the lower grades' bathroom for the next few weeks, but that's the consequence.
I love this school, really, and the kids have thrived there this year, but I am a bit frustrated about their notifications. I made it very clear at the beginning of the year to PLEASE LET ME KNOW if there were any issues, the sooner the better. Once I can address an issue, it generally starts to improve, but I can't deal with things of which I have no knowledge. This is particularly true with DD, who doesn't generalize from one situation to another. So telling her to behave and not get defiant with Mrs. A does not automatically translate to behaving and complying for Mr. Z. We have to cover each scenario individually. Plus, if she gets away with something once, she will continue to do the same thing repeatedly until pushed to comply.
For the last several months, I have received few complaints. She's been getting A's and B's on her report card. For me, this means things are going fine, right? Then all of a sudden I get a call telling me they want to start sending her home immediately if she is at all defiant, because it has become too much of a problem. Ummm... no, that should be a last resort, and what can we try first, and if you had let me know sooner, we could have dealt with this! They did agree to try a countdown and calling me first, then going home if she still can't regulate, but that was only because I refused to have this be a 1-strike-you're-out system. Sigh... I think we need to have some long conversations before the next school year starts, but at this point in the year, with only 1.5 weeks left, I'll just wait until fall.
Ah well, tomorrow is another day, right? And I won't get another phone call, right? They won't both pull this at the same time again, right?
Yeah, yeah, I know I'm delusional. Just let me have my fantasies, all right?
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Our Arkansas Adventure, Part 2
So, last time we left our intrepid "heroes," they were on the way to a wedding reception in the Ozarks. Now, along with the bride's immediate family, we were the only out-of-town guests for this event. We had been provided with a map of the roads around the reception site (home of the groom's sister, last name "Bay"), along with the house number. The bride's family was planning on following the groom, and we left under the cheerful direction of our GPS. We were assured that with this nifty device in our car, we would have no problem locating the address.
Everything goes smoothly, up through beautiful, twisting roads; past verdant green trees and pastures. (they have 3 kinds of cattle down there: the red kind, the black kind, and the cream kind. And apparently each farmer has their own particular favorite color, so very few herds are mixed. If you bred a red one and a cream, would you get a nice pink? We heard there were whites, too, but for my money, they looked just like the creams to me)
Our handy-dandy GPS indeed guides us smoothly to the correct road, and as we watch the distance to destination tick down, we start watching for something "reception-like." Finally our guide announces, "Destination on left," so we look left to see:
Now, you can't tell from this picture, but this guy (we'll call him Blackie) had his hackles raised and WAS NOT going to let us pass unchallenged. We would inch forward a foot or two, he would run right in front the car, barking up a storm. Finally, convinced he had made his point, he would start to back off, only to repeat the performance the second we started forward again. By this point, we are cracking up hysterically. We are toochicken prudent to exit the vehicle and approach Blackie, possibly losing a hand in the process. So we inch our way out onto the road bit by bit, finally heading on our way about 5 minutes later.
Everything goes smoothly, up through beautiful, twisting roads; past verdant green trees and pastures. (they have 3 kinds of cattle down there: the red kind, the black kind, and the cream kind. And apparently each farmer has their own particular favorite color, so very few herds are mixed. If you bred a red one and a cream, would you get a nice pink? We heard there were whites, too, but for my money, they looked just like the creams to me)
Our handy-dandy GPS indeed guides us smoothly to the correct road, and as we watch the distance to destination tick down, we start watching for something "reception-like." Finally our guide announces, "Destination on left," so we look left to see:
Hmmmm.... that doesn't look very promising. And you can't even see the best part - the broken down loveseat on the front porch. Well, we figure maybe it was off by a house or two, no biggie. Just to the left of this monstrosity stunning home is a field full of rocks sporting the sign "Bay Natural Stone," but no house. Between the two is a gravel track that drops off into nowhere, apparently a farm road, but it doesn't look promising for a reception site, either. However, the appearance of the family name ("Bay") for which we were searching encourages us that we are in the correct area, and on we drive.
We know we are looking for house # 17692, so we started eyeballing house numbers. The next building looks like it has the correct house number:
But seeing as this place is labeled "For Rent" on the hand painted plywood sign, we doubt it is our destination, either. Fortunately we realize this is #17962 (transposition of the last 2 numbers), so we breathe a sigh of relief and continue on.
The next place we find is even more promising. It is on the opposite side of the road, but over the driveway is a large metal arch (think ranch entrance), sporting the name "Bay" across the middle. Now surely this is the correct location. We head down the driveway, over the cattle guard, past the cows, over another cattle guard, and up to house... which has no cars in the driveway. Unless the other members of the family have flown in by helicopter, they are obviously not here, either.
By this point, we figure we've passed it somehow, and it is time to head back the way we came. We head out of the "Bay" driveway, and just as we are about to pull out, we are stopped by this fellow, guardian of the home across the street.
Now, you can't tell from this picture, but this guy (we'll call him Blackie) had his hackles raised and WAS NOT going to let us pass unchallenged. We would inch forward a foot or two, he would run right in front the car, barking up a storm. Finally, convinced he had made his point, he would start to back off, only to repeat the performance the second we started forward again. By this point, we are cracking up hysterically. We are too
We head back the way we had come, looking for the proper house number. It doesn't help that the house numbers in this area are non-sequential, so it takes several passes before we finally spot a small fire number on a post that matched the elusive #17692. It flanks a small dirt road, which we promptly follow, but a few feet in, we spot:
Now, you may not be able to read this very well, but the sign says, "Slow, Amish School Zone." Ummmm... they didn't look Amish.... did they? To the right is a small, school-like red building, and ahead you can see the twisting course of the "road," not a house in sight. Once again, not promising, so it was back to the drawing board. 
This picture does not do justice to thebackwoodsness quaintness of this property. There were no less than 4 trailers/campers serving as permanent homes, as well as what appeared to be several broken-down vehicles, and other miscelleanious junk collectibles. Why, it was like being back at my Mom's house, only neater! And just to prove we were really in the middle of nowhere, just look at our GPS!
Our favorite part of the yard (of which I did not get a snapshot, much to my chagrin), was a large sign announcing "No Loitering, No Children Playing".... sitting right in front of a large playset. That and the flagpole completely surrounded by paddock fencing... not sure if that was to keep cattle out, or to keep the flag from escaping.
Anyway, Bubba #1 meets me as I climb out of the car. I explain my situation, figuring that if these folks have the same last name ("Bay") as our destination, they likely know where their relatives live. Bubba hums and haws, and says he doesn't know those folks. "But we had hoped that since they have the same last name...." Oh, he just works here, but maybe the guy who lives here would know. Hmmm.. couldn't he have told us that first? I ask to speak with the owner, who it turns out is headed our way.
Bubba #2 is a bit more helpful, though certainly not more cheerful. He does say we will see a sign for the house number, and to turn in on a dirt road. "You mean the one with the Amish School sign? We didn't think that looked right." 
You can't see it here, but at the bottom of this hill is a swamp, too, just to make our experience complete. Finally, as we round the corner and head up the hill, we see a sign of life:
Surely the house is just out of sight over the crest of the hill, right?
Well, here's the barn. Or garage. Or whatever. But still no house. No people. there are a couple extra cars, but that doesn't seem unusual out here. 
But we headed back to town for the evening, knowing we had a long drive ahead of us the next day.
Now, you may not be able to read this very well, but the sign says, "Slow, Amish School Zone." Ummmm... they didn't look Amish.... did they? To the right is a small, school-like red building, and ahead you can see the twisting course of the "road," not a house in sight. Once again, not promising, so it was back to the drawing board.I figure it is time to bring out the big firepower... I am going to ask directions. Our first stop is a fairly average looking property, where I had just seen someone walk through the yard. I figure easy, right... pull in the driveway, and the person in the yard will be curious and come up to ask, "Can I help you?" with a smile, and we will sheepishly explain how we are lost, and they will immediately say cheerfully, "OOohh... you want the xxxx house on the left 1/2 mile down the road.. can't miss it!"
OK, so it doesn't quite go that way. First, whoever was wandering around the yard is nowhere to be found by the time we pull up to the driveway proper. So, undeterred, I head up to the house (you didn't think DH was going to do this do you? Ask for directions? Really?) and call out. And call out. And shout louder because the two dogs fenced beside the house are barking non-stop at the top of their lungs. And shout again. Finally, after several minutes, someone comes to the door. After I explain our situation, she says (at least I think it was a she), "Oh, you know where it said 'Bay Natural Stone?' There's a road just to the right of that you'll want to take."
Remember... the unpromising gravel road we looked at, and rejected, earlier?
Well, we were game. After all, sometimes surprising things are hidden out of the way. We bump and thump our way down the road, and we certainly were surprised, if that's how you want to put it...
This picture does not do justice to the
Our favorite part of the yard (of which I did not get a snapshot, much to my chagrin), was a large sign announcing "No Loitering, No Children Playing".... sitting right in front of a large playset. That and the flagpole completely surrounded by paddock fencing... not sure if that was to keep cattle out, or to keep the flag from escaping.
Anyway, Bubba #1 meets me as I climb out of the car. I explain my situation, figuring that if these folks have the same last name ("Bay") as our destination, they likely know where their relatives live. Bubba hums and haws, and says he doesn't know those folks. "But we had hoped that since they have the same last name...." Oh, he just works here, but maybe the guy who lives here would know. Hmmm.. couldn't he have told us that first? I ask to speak with the owner, who it turns out is headed our way.
Bubba #2 is a bit more helpful, though certainly not more cheerful. He does say we will see a sign for the house number, and to turn in on a dirt road. "You mean the one with the Amish School sign? We didn't think that looked right."
"Oh," we are told, "that's just his sign."
At this point, we are laughing so hard we can barely breathe.
OOOKaay.. So back to the Amish School House we go. We turn on to the dirt road and drive.... and drive... and drive....
You can't see it here, but at the bottom of this hill is a swamp, too, just to make our experience complete. Finally, as we round the corner and head up the hill, we see a sign of life:
Surely the house is just out of sight over the crest of the hill, right?Right????
Well, here's the barn. Or garage. Or whatever. But still no house. No people. there are a couple extra cars, but that doesn't seem unusual out here.Then DH has an epiphany. He remembers the minister making some comment before the service about this particular family member having turned a portion of a barn into his house. Now, DH had been envisioning something large, red, and quaint. Something Little-House-ish converted into a unique living space.
He had not been thinking Pole Barn.
But we drive over the cattle guard and approach the building. Just to the right, around the corner, is a service door, and we hear voices from within. Tentatively we knock, hoping maybe these people will know how to find the "Bay" home. The door opens, and there it is. A garage full of people, decorated tables, and food.
Turns out the "house" portion of the barn is the 1/3 you can't see, away from the road. 2/3 of the barn is a large workshop (currently set up for the reception), while the remainder has a kitchen, living room, bath, and three bedrooms (two upstairs). It's an interesting concept, one which had many of the men dreaming. After all... a house where your garage is only steps away, and is bigger than your home? What's not to like???
We relay our tales of travel to those who greet us, and are told, "Oh, we had some signs made up, we just forgot to put them up." Sure enough, there they are, sitting on the floor, next to the bathroom/water heater closet. Sure would have been nice....
We had a great time at the reception, with some excellent barbeque. Our hosts were very welcoming, and as we said our goodbyes, we knew that it would be great seeing these folks again at the wedding in June. No harm done, and we certainly had a story to tell about our trip.
But we sure could have used that sign!
As we headed away from the "house," even the cattle didn't want us to leave...
But we headed back to town for the evening, knowing we had a long drive ahead of us the next day.Saturday, May 9, 2009
Our Arkansas Adventure, Part 1
Last weekend, DH and I headed south to Arkansas for the Wedding Blessing ceremony of one of my best friends. I am her Maid of Honor, and we recently calculated that we have known each other over 20 years, having met in our freshman year of college. I have been with her through many different relationships, so I am thrilled that she has found such a wonderful guy, and am happy for her and her husband to be. The actual "legal" ceremony will be here in June, but her future father-in-law will not be healthy enough to make the trip. So, they took the wedding to them, and had a beautiful blessing ceremony in the Ozarks.
Of course, it wouldn't be my life if there weren't some adventure along the way. First of all, we had to drive through Iowa. DHreally doesn't like isn't terribly fond of Iowa. No offense, please, to those of you who love/are from Iowa. I thought it was a perfectly fine state. He's complained the whole way through the state when we've gone through before, so I expected no different this time. He actually held his tongue pretty well, but then, we drove through the whole state without stopping.
Our first stop was our first minor adventure. We stopped at a small gas station right on the Missouri side of the IA/MO border. This was, apparently, the Gas Station That Time Forgot. I know I'd rather forget the bathroom there. We did decide to pick up some snacks, and DH decided on Dots. You know, Dots candies? Those hard, lumpy, waxy things that are the last things eaten out of the Halloween bag? The ones you eat when the SweetTarts are all gone? Yea, apparently DH loves them. He has a particular way of eating them which involves squishing them between his fingers until there soft and then letting them melt in his mouth. Um... yeah.... The things you learn about your spouse on a road trip!
Anyway, DH selected his Dots, disappointed that they only sold the small size. As we started underway, I set some out for his enjoyment. But... OH NO! These were substandard Dots. They did not squish right. They did not melt right. They did not taste right. Horror of horrors! DH decided they were out-of-date Dots because the gas station was so remote. I decided they were out-of-date because he is the only person on this planet who eats these things by choice, and he hadn't been there recently! (OK, ever... they must have been holding them just for him... the sole Dots customer in the US)
So we cruised on through Missouri, made our way through Kansas City, and continued south towards our destination, the far northwest corner of Arkansas. About 1/2 hr. north of the border, it began to rain. Then it began to pour. Then it began to hail. I don't mean itty-bitty-pitter-pat hail. I mean big-honking-dime-to-quarter-size hail. The kind that leaves lovely dents on your car, and piles into drifts like snow. It was so loud, we couldn't hear each other over the pounding. It was almost impossible to see, but we decided our choices were to keep going, slowly, and try not to rear-end the person doing the same in front of us, or pull over and try to wait it out, hoping desperately someone else didn't rear-end us. We chose the former, and at least that meant we eventually drove our way out of the storm. Just as we pulled out of the last of the hail, we could finally hear the radio again. The first thing we heard was a storm-warning announcement for heavy hail in the county we had just left. Nice to know, huh?
About an hour after that, we arrived safely at our hotel in Rogers, AR, and headed out to dinner with the groom's family. Great people, and we had a lovely time. We all headed home early, as the next morning was the ceremony.
The actual "legal" ceremony will be up here in June, but the groom's father will not be healthy enough to make the trip. So, they took the wedding to him, and had a beautiful blessing ceremony in the Ozarks. The chapel was amazing, a lovely glass chapel in the green hills. The pastor did a beautiful job of discussing the importance of betrothal, and gave this ceremony plenty of meaning, without taking away from the significance of the June ceremony. It was a bit rainy (and of course this was the one time I had left my umbrella out of the car), but everything was a stunning green, and the bride was lovely.
Of course, it wouldn't be my life if there weren't some adventure along the way. First of all, we had to drive through Iowa. DH
Our first stop was our first minor adventure. We stopped at a small gas station right on the Missouri side of the IA/MO border. This was, apparently, the Gas Station That Time Forgot. I know I'd rather forget the bathroom there. We did decide to pick up some snacks, and DH decided on Dots. You know, Dots candies? Those hard, lumpy, waxy things that are the last things eaten out of the Halloween bag? The ones you eat when the SweetTarts are all gone? Yea, apparently DH loves them. He has a particular way of eating them which involves squishing them between his fingers until there soft and then letting them melt in his mouth. Um... yeah.... The things you learn about your spouse on a road trip!
Anyway, DH selected his Dots, disappointed that they only sold the small size. As we started underway, I set some out for his enjoyment. But... OH NO! These were substandard Dots. They did not squish right. They did not melt right. They did not taste right. Horror of horrors! DH decided they were out-of-date Dots because the gas station was so remote. I decided they were out-of-date because he is the only person on this planet who eats these things by choice, and he hadn't been there recently! (OK, ever... they must have been holding them just for him... the sole Dots customer in the US)
So we cruised on through Missouri, made our way through Kansas City, and continued south towards our destination, the far northwest corner of Arkansas. About 1/2 hr. north of the border, it began to rain. Then it began to pour. Then it began to hail. I don't mean itty-bitty-pitter-pat hail. I mean big-honking-dime-to-quarter-size hail. The kind that leaves lovely dents on your car, and piles into drifts like snow. It was so loud, we couldn't hear each other over the pounding. It was almost impossible to see, but we decided our choices were to keep going, slowly, and try not to rear-end the person doing the same in front of us, or pull over and try to wait it out, hoping desperately someone else didn't rear-end us. We chose the former, and at least that meant we eventually drove our way out of the storm. Just as we pulled out of the last of the hail, we could finally hear the radio again. The first thing we heard was a storm-warning announcement for heavy hail in the county we had just left. Nice to know, huh?
About an hour after that, we arrived safely at our hotel in Rogers, AR, and headed out to dinner with the groom's family. Great people, and we had a lovely time. We all headed home early, as the next morning was the ceremony.
The actual "legal" ceremony will be up here in June, but the groom's father will not be healthy enough to make the trip. So, they took the wedding to him, and had a beautiful blessing ceremony in the Ozarks. The chapel was amazing, a lovely glass chapel in the green hills. The pastor did a beautiful job of discussing the importance of betrothal, and gave this ceremony plenty of meaning, without taking away from the significance of the June ceremony. It was a bit rainy (and of course this was the one time I had left my umbrella out of the car), but everything was a stunning green, and the bride was lovely.
From there, we headed out to the reception... and ohhhh... getting there was half the fun!
(Stay tuned for Part 2)
Saturday, April 25, 2009
How Would I Know....
How would I know that someone was calling me…
If my daughter did not shout, “The phone is ringing!” every time it rings two feet away from me?
How would I know what I was wearing…
If my daughter did not announce, “Mom’s wearing tan pants and we are both wearing jeans,” in the car on the way to school?
How would I know that Bobby does not like green beans…
If my daughter did not tell me, in detail, about the random likes and dislikes of her classmates?
How would I know that Barbie’s hair can melt…
If my daughter had not put the doll’s head up against the gas fireplace?
How would I know the importance of summarizing…
If I did not hear my daughter’s twenty minute explanation of a two minute activity?
How would I know how to see beyond the exterior…
If I did not see my daughter’s ability to look past disabilities to see the precious person underneath?
How would I know about the capacity of children to accept…
If I did not see my daughter’s classmates like and accept her for who she is, foibles and all?
How would I know how to ask for forgiveness…
If I did not have to ask my daughter to forgive me when I “blow it” as a parent, time and time again?
How would I know about the capacity to forgive completely…
If I did not see that kind of forgiveness in my daughter’s eyes when she grants it to me, time and time again?
How would I know the meaning of “faith like a little child”…
If I did not see my daughter’s unquestioning belief in God and His grace?
How would I know the blessings of my Christian spouse…
If I had not had to learn to lean on him to get through the tough times?
How would I know the importance of community…
If I had not needed the support of all the parents who are walking this road with me?
How would I know the power of the human brain to learn…
If I did not watch my daughter master those skills which no one thought she would ever accomplish?
How would I know the power of the human heart to heal…
If I did not see my daughter triumph despite abuse no human should have to endure?
How would I know the power of the human soul to hope…
If I did not find the strength, again and again, to hope for my daughter’s future, despite the odds?
How would I know how to persevere…
If I did not have to pick myself up each new day to try again?
How would I know humility…
If I did not have to ask again and again for God to help me, teach me, make me a better parent, and forgive me for my failures?
How would I know the strength of my soul…
If I had not been challenged by God to do what I thought I could not?
How would I know how to trust the Lord’s plan for me…
If I had been unfortunate enough to have things go according to my plan instead of being blessed by His?
How would I know the wonder of love…
If I have not walked this unexpected and blessed path?
If my daughter did not shout, “The phone is ringing!” every time it rings two feet away from me?
How would I know what I was wearing…
If my daughter did not announce, “Mom’s wearing tan pants and we are both wearing jeans,” in the car on the way to school?
How would I know that Bobby does not like green beans…
If my daughter did not tell me, in detail, about the random likes and dislikes of her classmates?
How would I know that Barbie’s hair can melt…
If my daughter had not put the doll’s head up against the gas fireplace?
How would I know the importance of summarizing…
If I did not hear my daughter’s twenty minute explanation of a two minute activity?
How would I know how to see beyond the exterior…
If I did not see my daughter’s ability to look past disabilities to see the precious person underneath?
How would I know about the capacity of children to accept…
If I did not see my daughter’s classmates like and accept her for who she is, foibles and all?
How would I know how to ask for forgiveness…
If I did not have to ask my daughter to forgive me when I “blow it” as a parent, time and time again?
How would I know about the capacity to forgive completely…
If I did not see that kind of forgiveness in my daughter’s eyes when she grants it to me, time and time again?
How would I know the meaning of “faith like a little child”…
If I did not see my daughter’s unquestioning belief in God and His grace?
How would I know the blessings of my Christian spouse…
If I had not had to learn to lean on him to get through the tough times?
How would I know the importance of community…
If I had not needed the support of all the parents who are walking this road with me?
How would I know the power of the human brain to learn…
If I did not watch my daughter master those skills which no one thought she would ever accomplish?
How would I know the power of the human heart to heal…
If I did not see my daughter triumph despite abuse no human should have to endure?
How would I know the power of the human soul to hope…
If I did not find the strength, again and again, to hope for my daughter’s future, despite the odds?
How would I know how to persevere…
If I did not have to pick myself up each new day to try again?
How would I know humility…
If I did not have to ask again and again for God to help me, teach me, make me a better parent, and forgive me for my failures?
How would I know the strength of my soul…
If I had not been challenged by God to do what I thought I could not?
How would I know how to trust the Lord’s plan for me…
If I had been unfortunate enough to have things go according to my plan instead of being blessed by His?
How would I know the wonder of love…
If I have not walked this unexpected and blessed path?
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Life With the Literal Child
The other day in the car, DD was telling me about a conversation she'd had on the bus the previous day. Her class had earned a party because of good behavior, and she, DS, and three friends from her class (triplets, actually), had been chatting about the party on the trip home. DD told me, "We were all talking about the party, and "Cindy" said we shouldn't go to it."
Well, that seemed odd, to not wish to attend a class party, particularly after it had already occurred. DS added that they had been talking about something gross someone had said at the party, and Cindy had said not to go.
I asked, "Did she say something like, 'You don't want to go there'?"
The kids hemmed and hawed, and I said, "Maybe not those exact words, but something along those lines?" Yes, DD said, it did sound kind of like her friend's words.
So I got to explain that the phrase, "You don't want to go there," had nothing to do with a warning from Cindy not to attend the party, and everything to do with a topic she recommended avoiding.
Fortunately, once I define a phrase like this for DD as an idiom, she knows to classify that in the "don't take word-for-word" category, but until I catch all of them, it's no wonder her world is a little confused!
Well, that seemed odd, to not wish to attend a class party, particularly after it had already occurred. DS added that they had been talking about something gross someone had said at the party, and Cindy had said not to go.
I asked, "Did she say something like, 'You don't want to go there'?"
The kids hemmed and hawed, and I said, "Maybe not those exact words, but something along those lines?" Yes, DD said, it did sound kind of like her friend's words.
So I got to explain that the phrase, "You don't want to go there," had nothing to do with a warning from Cindy not to attend the party, and everything to do with a topic she recommended avoiding.
Fortunately, once I define a phrase like this for DD as an idiom, she knows to classify that in the "don't take word-for-word" category, but until I catch all of them, it's no wonder her world is a little confused!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
While I Was Out
DH and I just returned from our anniversary cruise. It has been 10 wonderful years since I was blessed to marry this wonderful man, and I wouldn't give him up for the world. I don't think I write here enough about what a great man I've had the good fortune to marry, but this will demonstrate, once again, why I love him so much!
We got home from our trip late on a Sunday night. We had made arrangements for the kids to stay where they were for that night, knowing it would be a late night for us, and not knowing if we might end up with airport delays on the homebound flight. We walked in and started putzing a little bit - checking the mail, checking e-mail, feeding cats, a little unpacking, that sort of thing. After a while, DH started encouraging me to head up to bed, saying he would close up.
Well, I found a few more things to putz with, and again he pushed me towards bed. Finally, I headed upstairs, and this is what I found:
Of course, none of you (well, maybe Kari) has seen my bedroom as it was previously decorated. It was OK, but nothing thrilling. I am not one of those who has a decorator's touch, and I had never gotten around to selecting curtains. We had planned for years to repaint the bedroom, but that project was constantly relegated to the "later" stack.
This was DH's anniversary gift to me. He made arrangements with a decorator and painter to redo our bedroom for me while we were on vacation. They did an amazing job! I love the color of the walls, and I never would have thought to put the gold with the green, but it makes it feel so rich and warm to me. Most of the items are ours, rearranged and improved, with a few new accent items, like the lamps, bedspread and curtains.
You can't tell very clearly here, but there is a faux finish on the bathroom walls, new window treatments and a new shower curtain. The brighter color really makes this room feel huge!
We got home from our trip late on a Sunday night. We had made arrangements for the kids to stay where they were for that night, knowing it would be a late night for us, and not knowing if we might end up with airport delays on the homebound flight. We walked in and started putzing a little bit - checking the mail, checking e-mail, feeding cats, a little unpacking, that sort of thing. After a while, DH started encouraging me to head up to bed, saying he would close up.
Well, I found a few more things to putz with, and again he pushed me towards bed. Finally, I headed upstairs, and this is what I found:
Of course, none of you (well, maybe Kari) has seen my bedroom as it was previously decorated. It was OK, but nothing thrilling. I am not one of those who has a decorator's touch, and I had never gotten around to selecting curtains. We had planned for years to repaint the bedroom, but that project was constantly relegated to the "later" stack.
This was DH's anniversary gift to me. He made arrangements with a decorator and painter to redo our bedroom for me while we were on vacation. They did an amazing job! I love the color of the walls, and I never would have thought to put the gold with the green, but it makes it feel so rich and warm to me. Most of the items are ours, rearranged and improved, with a few new accent items, like the lamps, bedspread and curtains.
They also made a lovely arrangement of pictures in the corner - the large oval is a c. 1918 photograph of my grandmother and her sisters as children, while the other three b&w shots are of my grandparents, DH's grandmother, and my great aunt. It made me cry.
The best part of it all was what you see on the breakfast tray. DH wrote me the most beautiful letter I have ever read. He put his heart into it, and I have never read anything so wonderfully written. He told me that this "While You Were Out" makeover was something he had been thinking of for years, taking notes on what I liked, planning for a sanctuary for me. Every time I read this letter, I still cry. I am trying to convince him to let me post it here, because I think it needs to be shared, and I am so proud of what he wrote.
You can't tell very clearly here, but there is a faux finish on the bathroom walls, new window treatments and a new shower curtain. The brighter color really makes this room feel huge!
DH was so nervous on the way home from the airport, and now I knew why. He had admitted to being jittery, but attributed it to being wired from the long day of travel. In actuality, he realized that once I saw the room, he would either win husband of the year, or be spending the next month in the doghouse (and we don't even have a dog!) He needn't have worried - I love the final result!
DH gives me more credit than I deserve, and downplays his importance in my life. I could not travel this road without him by my side, sharing the burden and helping me laugh when things seem darkest. Not many men would have stood by through everything that happened after my mom's death (not to mention, shoveled cat poop out of the hallway). Not many men would have chosen this adoption and fostering path with me. Not many men would have succeeded the way he has - he is one of the FASD success stories, and I am so proud to have him as my husband. I love you honey!
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