Saturday Retrospective: Growing Up at Snead's Farm

Happy Talk Like A Pirate Day!

Arrrrrrgh!!!

Sleepover: Joey's Turn

That's right. Joey is at Grandma's. By himself. Sleeping overnight.

I, of course, am beside myself.

Oh, and Andy isn't too happy, either. He wants his Joey!

Kickin' and Takin'

I made some phone calls this morning that needed to be made. I got some stuff to the framers that needed to be framed. I got my dining room table cleared off and the potpourri out. I got the mantel cleared and arranged for fall. I made orange-glazed chicken for dinner. I guess the aliens really did get my brain jumpstarted. ;)

Andy was a doll in the framer's. As I explained that yes, I wanted them to frame a napkin with a crayon drawing of a bear on it (Joey's first clear picture of Little Bear), along with several other children's art pieces, a photo a friend gave me, a poster of dinosaurs, and a postage stamp, Andy wandered about the store... keeping his hands to himself. It was incredible. I was so proud of him. As we left, hand in hand, he looked up at me and said, very matter-of-factly:

"Mommy, let's pop into the toy store and look at some toys."

So we walked down the block to the little toy store, and bought a little dinosaur. Because who can resist such a little charmer?

Wordless Wednesday: What I Did With My Two Hours Off

Trouble brewing

Joey participated in a summer reading program, and for a treat, the school let families come to a picnic lunch with the kids today. Actually, there wasn't much special, you showed up, and ate a crummy school lunch with your kid. But Andy got to come, and I got to have extra minutes with my Joey, so we were all about it. Woo-hoo!

So the invitation said to come five minutes early and meet the children in their classroom to go to lunch. So we pack up Andy and Grandma, and off we go to Hugh Mercer. The parents are arriving in a staggered timing because the picnic is during "your child's regular lunch period", which is also staggered. Consequently, we managed to sneak into a parking place just as the first wave of parents were leaving. We present our IDs, get out passes, and go to Joey's classroom- but he isn't there. He now has lunch with the self-contained teacher rather than the autism teacher. Fortunately, Mrs. Huff is a wonderful lady, and she takes us around to Joey's new inclusion room.

Last year, we were very spoiled, and unfortunately, I was unable to take full advantage of it. Joey's kindergarden teacher, Mrs. S (they really do call her Mrs. S), is a gift from heaven- a truly talented teacher. Whenever you appeared in Mrs. S's room- announced or otherwise- she had a big smile and a welcome-come-in-and-join-us attitude. There were no bones about it- we were the moms and dads, important to our children and their education, and we were always welcome to come participate in the classroom. Spoiled. Rotten.

We appeared in the door of Mrs. A's room (I'll leave off the full name for right now), escorted by Mrs. Huff, and five minutes ahead of lunchtime, as the invitation stated; Mrs. Huff announced us. We were greeted with, "Well, we're still doing instruction. They have to meet him in the cafeteria!"

"Oh," I responded, taken aback. "We're sorry, we were told to go to his classroom." We retreated with Mrs. Huff continuing to apologize, and hotfooted it to the cafeteria.

Not impressed. For one, I'm a parent. I should be welcome to come witness my child's instruction time. For two, she should have addressed me, as I was standing there, if she wanted me to go to the cafeteria. For three, we were instructed to go to his classroom, and she should have been aware of that. All the other teachers were- all the other parents arrived in the cafeteria with their child's class.

So we are now in the cafeteria- where to wait? The tables each have signs on them to say which teacher sits there, and when. Mrs. A is not listed anywhere. We double-checked. We triple-checked. No sign of her. We finally ask, and apparently Mrs. A has been relegated to the "Quiet Table" due to shortage of room (? Don't they know each class that needs a table for lunch before school starts? Even Mrs. S has a table sign!) So we go to wait at that table, and here they come. Dexter and Joey are in the middle, but end up at the end because they both want to hug Andy. We get into the lunch line, and I help Andy and Joey (and mom helps Dexter) get their lunches, and we emerge to find... no-one we know. So we follow Dexter to the table. Where has the rest of the class gone?

Note that no-one has introduced themselves to us, nor really asked who we are. One lady asked if we "belonged to Joey and Dexter", and I later discovered this was the classroom aide. Joey's usual aide was out sick, and her sub was not there at the moment (I think she was taking another child somewhere- Joey technically does not have his own aide- and this is a different person from the classroom aide). Suddenly this same person appears and asks Dexter and Joey is they are going to join the class outside for the picnic, and again if we belong to "Joey and Dexter." I corrected her ("I'm Joey's mom") but I am not happy that the class was already out the door, and our guys had time to go to the entire other side of the cafeteria and sit down before anyone corralled them. Were they watching? What if Joey had decided to scoot out the door- especially with the change in routine?

We are still not introduced. We scurry after the boys, outside to a grassy spot around the corner. The teacher (I later learned this was the teacher) as two blankets and eight children. She spread one blanket, and Andy, Joey, and Dexter sit there; the other children, the teacher, and an aide sit on that one. The classroom aide sits in the grass between the two after kindly fetching a chair for my mom, who really can't sit on the ground. The teacher finally says something like, "I'm Mrs. A" before joining the rest of the class on the other blanket as a few other parents start to arrive (they had gone to the classroom, but had missed the class.) A few stray parents from other classes wandered out to the other huddled groups.

What did I notice about this? For one, my child and his friend were separated from the other students in the class. Was this just because we were already there (whereas the couple of other families arrived shortly after we came outside)? Mrs. A seemed to have no interest in speaking with me whatsoever. Not a good sign. Sometime over the course of the lunch, she did thank everyone for coming, but didn't even know my name ("Thanks to Mrs. C, E's mom.... oh, and thanks to- uh- Joey's mom for coming. Oh, and Joey's Grandma.").

Even after the lunch is over, and we're marching the class to the computer lab, it is like we were dismissed-by-snub. Andy said his goodbyes, the classroom aide and the aide sub (who arrived as lunch was ending- probably lunch was her break time) said something, but the teacher? Not a word. She was "busy."

Instead of feeling like we were a part of the classroom and Joey's education, we felt like we were annoying this woman and in her way. Not impressed.

Now, I'm not going to stomp my feet over a single negative encounter. But the first impression was definitely not good. If I don't see a definite change in attitude and understanding in the next encounter, we are definitely going to have issues. If this person thinks I'm going to take being treated like this again, she's going to be in for a big- unpleasant- surprise.

Coiffure

Andy and I had some time before Joey came home, so we made some play dough today. Andy wanted red, so he dumped half a bottle of red dye into the batch. He stirred it himself. He helped knead it, and sprinkled the counter with flour. He pretended he was making pizza until Joey came home.

Joey is harder to make things with, but I got him to decide on red and squeeze the rest of the dye bottle into the pot, and stir it a couple of times. It was too hot for his hands to help knead, but he waited patiently and repeated lines from Blue's Clues in anticipation. I distracted him from the hot dough by cleaning, and then presented him with his new treasure.

Then I put some cookies in the oven, and settled for a peaceful play-dough afternoon. I put Mr. Rogers on the TV, so they were less tempted to abandon the kitchen to watch TV, yet if they decided to invade the livingroom, the show was appropriate and peaceful.

A boy appeared. His head was encased in red dough.

"Look! Mom! I have red hair!" Joey announced, glanced at the TV, said, "Hello, Mr. Rogers!" and retreated to the kitchen.

Apparently I laughed so hard, he decided it was the thing to do with playdough, and spent the next fifteen minutes with the play dough on his head (then they lost interest and we bagged it up for next time).

Genealogy

I've been fiddling a lot with genealogy and scanning in a lot of family pics (did you notice?) I'm working on becoming a genealogist. Looking at the pictures and working with names has been a little surreal. Most of these photos are images that have been in my life all my life- faces of people I never knew, images of people I did know, and do know; frozen upon paper and caught in time.

The older photos, the ones of my great-grandparents and great-great grandparents, they have a special quality of both familiar and strange. I look at those faces, and think f them- this is great-grandmother Heinz, This is great-grandmother Conway (actually, great-grandmother Phillips, she got remarried). The photos my mom knows and points out, set in the 1920s, the 1930s, the 1940s, the 1950s.

Then I have the names. My grandmother's parents were Bertram Evan Heinz and Elsie LaBlanche DuPler. Actually, Elsie LaBlanche DuPler Heinz, but I don't think of her that way, because in genealogy charts, you record women by their maiden name. Elsie LaBlanche DuPler has been tough to find. I' not sure when she arrived in Maryland, but I suspect her family is not there. I have photos of her mother and father, but I have no idea when the photo is taken, or where (though it is around the turn of the century).

Like my grandmother, Elsie LaBlanche DuPler was an artist; I have some of her work, including a line drawing for a magazine. I've been told she did some drawing for a magazine, but no one seems to agree which magazine. She was French, and her parents were born in France; the photo I have of them does indeed look like something out of Gigi. This French lady married into a family of German Methodist ministers (the kind that don't like comfortable furniture). She had five children, four girls and a boy. The last art I have evidence of her doing is in the 1920s- apparently being a mother took precedence over self-expression.

As I was flipping through the photos of great-grandmother Heinz, it really hit me that this was her- this was Elsie LaBlanche DuPler. It was kind of like looking into the Mirror of Erised. That is her. So many stories, so much research, so much delving into records and pasts trying in vain to find her. Yet there she is. She lived. She was.

I want my boys to understand their connection to the past. Understanding history is understanding the development of thought and understanding of the world. To progress with thought and understanding, to move truly forward, to choose to move forward, you have to have an idea of where you have been. There is also something about not letting people simply fade away, lost in an oblivion of time. To make lives have worth, to not forget. To realize the impact of people you never knew, never met, upon your own life. To know that Joey's impact, Andy's impact, upon our lives will echo, will continue, will be and have been.

New Shop

Just to make life interesting, I have now also opened a new shop over at zazzle. We'll see how it goes. Cafepress has a wider variety of products, but zazzle has some different products, and you can tweak the products a little.

Saturday Night Retrospective: Granny Pinkie

Prayers Answered

Well folks, my friend has made it through the storm. She had no power, but her house only had minor wind damage. They stayed with her parents (a few streets away), so they are OK, too.

Thank you, everybody, for all those prayers and thoughts. They worked!

Pray hard

My bestest friend and college roommate is in Houston with a husband and two small children. They are battening hatches (I tried to lure them up here for the weekend, but that didn't work- her parents are there, too).

For her, and any of you who are planning to hang tight in the path of Ike, we are praying hard here. Take care and stay safe.

Not missed

I got Joey onto the bus this morning, did a few needed chores, and went to get Andy.

When I arrived at Grandma's, they were on Grandma's bed, reading a book, and living it up. They had already had breakfast and washed up. They had talked much of the night,and had fun.

Andy had no desire to go home. Even now, as he prepares for his bath, I can hear, "Want to sleep at grandma's!"

We are planning on Joey's sleepover, coming soon. We know Joey is going to need a lot more prep than "wanna stay the night?" while sitting in Grandma's driveway. It will take more prep on mom's part to distract him when he arrives, and keep him focused on the activities they will do, and the activities need to be planned and prepped, to that he stays engaged. However, it should be fun to have him all to herself.

I suspect that once again, we won't be missed.

Wordless Wednesday: Sleepover at Grandma's

The Witching Hour

In stories and folklore, the Witching Hour is usually the wee hours of the morning, such as Midnight. But for those of us with children, we all know that this a misinterpretation. The real Witching Hour is about 4-6 pm.

Between 4 and 6pm, no matter where we are, no matter what the day has held, my children go berserk. They're tired. They're hungry (even if they just had a snack!). They are wound up and ready to tear each other apart, while vying for undivided parental attention.

In the car? Choruses of repeated soundified cacophony, bounced back and forth, or punctuated with "DHO-WY!!!DHO-WY!!! BE QUIET! I NEED QUIET!!!!"

In the house? Stampedes of elephants rampage through the house, chasing two terrified cats, while singing "Blue's Clues" or the daily Favorite Ditty at the top of their lungs. Sometimes trucks are pushed by said elephants, exponentially increasing the noise.

In the yard? Sand is flung willy-nilly to squeals of protest and sandy bodies dashing past the parental guard into the house... where the child promptly turns into a very sandy elephant.

In the store? I avoid the store during the Witching Hour at all costs. We'll survive a single night without milk, bread, and toilet paper instead.


Any relief from the Witching Hour is infamously temporary. Nothing will eradicate it completely from a day. A method that provides relief today will not work for weeks to come. There is nothing to be done but batten down the sanity hatches and hold on tight... and enjoy the roller-coaster ride.

Another baby lost

We just heard about James ManyWhiteHorses. Although it is not yet known if his mother killed him because he was autistic, but he is gone. Another life lost for no apparent reason- a baby loved dearly by his aunt, who wanted to take custody of him.

Spider on the Porch

We have a spider on our porch, and I got some cool footage of her spinning her web.

Monday Retrospective: In Memory of Love Lost, Part One

This December will mark ten years since my brother last spoke to me. I often think of all the wonderful things he is missing by not knowing my children, his nephews. We still love him.

The Two Princes

Our slumber party at Grandma's actually went really well. We had a Blue's Clues Roller-Coaster Birthday Slumber Party, with popcorn and mac and cheese and presents (they each got a Blue's Clues playset) and sleeping in Grandma's bed! We munched popcorn through Hanna, which was little more than a prolonged summer storm here. No real flooding.

Today we wandered into the woods to see how high the river was. I grew up in these woods. There was once a well-trod path here, beaten smooth by the passing feet of myself and my brother nearly every day. Now my sons had a look at their future domain, two princes of the woods where their mom once roamed free.

I was roaming mostly free in these woods by the age of seven, when we started building the house. I would run down the path into adventure and freedom, and return with the ringing of the ship's bell my mom and dad mounted on our porch. When you heard the bell, it was time to come home. I assure you that bell is very loud, and carries a lot farther through those woods than one might expect.

Joey is now six years old. There was a time when I thought by now we'd be spending summer afternoons with Joey wandering through these woods regularly. That has not been the case. WIll he ever roam free in these trees, in his own little kingdom? Will he learn to return with the clang of the bell? That day certainly is not yet here. I thin kit will come, but not today.

We wandered over to the garden, too, but the deer ate most everything we planted there. I am dreaming of building something of a walk-in cage for future planting, but when will I have time and resource to build such a thing? Anyway, by that time, most of what was being said were whines, as if they were allergic to the woods and outside. I think we need to take more walks together! Beat down the paths a little more!

I couldn't even get Joey to look at the swollen river, or the trees, or anything. He was preoccupied with branches constantly brushing him and insects buzzing about and being tired. I may come some mornings and hack at the trees and the paths so he can get more used to being outside, being in the woods, and has some set paths he can use before he strike out to make his own.

Andy was being persnickety, too, though he had more interest in the woods, like the tree we saw that had been beaver-felled, and the small yellow flowers, and looking for spider webs. He's not old enough to be wandering about unsupervised, but I still need to get him out into the woods more. I hate to see them both with forest allergy.

In the end, we retreated to the walking along the driveway. Joey is much more comfortable with having the set road to follow. Again, maybe if I make more paths clear, my little prince charmings will be more willing to survey their domain.