Wordless Wednesday: Snow Day

In the Snow

Yes! Snow at last! We got right up and out into the glorious white stuff. It has become a rare treat around here, so just a quick pre-breakfast, then out into the morning!

After a glorious fifteen minutes, they were both back inside. Apparently the snow is too cold to make snowballs. So then we had hot chocolate and eggs and bacon, and warmed up. Then we got ourselves back together, and I decided a walk might be more in order than freeplay. There were some folks sledding, but no one wanted to loan a sled, so we headed over to Aunt Christina's and warmed up with Max and Charlie and Jack. On the way, we looked at the snow falling, and tossed snow at the trees, and made sure we stayed away from any cars sliding by. On the way back, the snow was wet enough to pack into little snowballs. So we threw them at each other.

We played out front until Andy got cold. We actually got a little snowman together- a mini-snowman. Very cute. Then we came in for chocolate-chip pancakes for lunch.

All that fun, and its just lunch time. I'll keep you posted!



Added: We've popped the corn, baked the cookies, and even had yummy chicken pieces for dinner. Another round of snow play. I now have two tired little guys... but now it is sleeting. Yuck.

Syllabi Blues

I know I created a whole other blog for my professorial snarkiness to get it off this blog, which is supposed to be about my kids and parenting issues, but seriously, I am at wit's end, you are my lovely online family. Chin up, and skip it if you aren't interested in Teaching Blues.

When I was in college- and honestly, folks, it wasn't that long ago- a syllabus was one, maybe two pages long. It included the name of the class, an overview of the lectures and what reading you were expected to do, a list of contact info for the professor, and what actual assignments would be. It kind of looked like this:

Art History Class You Will Love
Meets twice a week at this location
Professor ReallyCool, phone number, office number
email address (a big new thing when I was in school)
Times Professor ReallyCool hangs out in her office

This is a class about Art History. In an overview, it covers from such-and-such date to such-and-such date, and we will be looking at these Deeper Issues and generally wishing we were allowed to drink hot beverages in the classroom because we'll be doing a lot of learning and stuff while having an awesome time.

Buy these books. You'll be reading them.

You will have a midterm and a final. The midterm is on this date. The final is on this date.
You also are expected to complete a 20-page research project by this date. Please come see Professor ReallyCool to confirm your topic before the midterm. It is due on this date.

Here is the list of lectures:
Week 1 Introduction
Week 2 Wonderful staging stuff for what we'll be learning. Read this book.
Week 3 A really cool look at stuff. Read this book.
Week 4 More really cool stuff and what Professor ReallyCool wants us to know. Read this awesome article.
Week 5 Wow, isn't this great stuff? Now think about this... Oh, and read this.
Week 6 Stunning new issues to think about stuff a whole new way. Read this to understand what is going on.
Week 7 (Usually the midterm)
Week 8 A Deeper Issue you hadn't thought about before. Read this totally cool book.
Week 9 More really awesome art you wanted to see. Read this article about it.
Week 10 Some Deeper Questions about art. Read another book.
Week 11 How this art might relate to other art. Read these articles, they're awesome.
Week 12 Other Art that probably was influenced by this art. Here's a book about it.
Week 13 More Deeper Issues to make us rethink our assumptions. Read this book.
Week 14 Art is so totally awesome that we want all our friends to take this class. Read this article and this article.
Week 15 Either presentations about our projects, or a kick-ass wrap-lecture. (And here's some more reading).
Final on this Date.


And that was it. Were my professors tearing their hair out about students making excuses about not coming to class or not having their textbooks? Did they have students reading newspapers, email, Facebook in their classes?

My syllabus is now six pages long, before the outline of lectures. It includes policies for attendance, policies for academic honesty, policies for cell phones, computers, reading, and other distractions. It lays out the assignments in excruciating detail, from the format of the tests to the exact requirements for notating and documenting a research assignment (including font and spacing). Now I am going to have to add in a statement saying, "You are required to have your textbook when you begin this class. If you are unable to purchase the textbook, please locate and use the copies available in the library."

When I was in college, it was assumed that the student handbook policies- such as "have your textbook" and "You are only permitted two unexcused absences per class" applied to all of your classes. A professor didn't put that stuff in each and every syllabus. the idea of using a cell phone during class time was of course ridiculous, they weren't that pervasive, but anything that made noise or distraction was just known to be verboten. You just didn't. If you did, the professor could flunk you. Just like that.

I did have a friend who got through college by asking for extensions from every single professor. She was famous for it. Even the professors knew about it, and I think they just planned accordingly when they saw her name on the roster. She was also known to be excruciatingly annoying, both to her classmates and her professors, for asking for extensions. But the point was, she was famous for it because it was so rare. Not anymore. Heck, my grad program didn't permit "Incompletes." If you had an incomplete on your record, you sacrificed your funding. Period.

Two weeks into the semester, I have students emailing me for extensions because they don't have their textbook. Big red flag: problem student here. Seriously, I have never had a student who, having "issues" at the beginning of the semester, did not continue to be a pain in my patookas for the rest of the semester. Not one. I've stopped allowing late adds, I don't care who died or what medical procedure you had. No extra credit here- more painfully poor work is not going to help your grade. And if you cannot be bothered to even think of going to the library to get your reading done, are you really ready to be in a college-level class?

And folks, it is really very depressing to see so many people unable to think for themselves, to have them insist on having things all spelled out as if we were all lawyers looking for loopholes. I think I prefer the days when a professor could just flunk you for being an arrogant jerk.

Just like that.

Prayers

We have heard a autistic family in the area is falling victim to ignorance. The child is a "runner" and managed to escape the house. A neighbor spotted the child and called police. The police have locked up a parent and have the child in the custody of social services. Such appalling ignorance on the part of the police and social services should not be tolerated.

I do not have the family's permission to release any details or identifying information, because I have not spoken with them directly. However, please join me in praying hard, and working towards educating our public servants so that this kind of ignorance does not tear apart other families.

Assurances

We've been having some communication issues here. Andy wants to play with Joey. Joey wants to play with Andy. Andy asks Joey to play by calling his name and inviting him to look at things and join games ("Look, Doe-y! Look what I made! I made dis for you! Let's be monsters, Doe-y. Doe-y! Look!"). Joey's preferred method is to invite Andy to sit with him ("Come sit here at your computer, Andy. Come sit with me. Play on computer number two.") Sometimes Joey ignores Andy altogether, unable to pull himself from his micro-super-focus to engage the world around him. The result is a lot of frustration. Andy doesn't want to sit next to Joey, he wants to play with Joey. Joey wants to do his own thing, but he wants his brother with him while he does it, but sometimes he doesn't want to really talk to his brother. This has aggravated the Witching Hour and two brothers who really love each other have a breakdown in trying to connect to one another on their own terms.

So today, after Andy had another fruitless attempt at getting Joey to play with him instead of beside him, and various other issues and events of the day, it was suddenly decided that Andy could go for a sleepover at Grandma's house (it is his turn, anyway, and this would give me some rare one-on-one with Joey). A great fuss was made about packing Andy up, announcing he was going to Grandma's, and generally making sure Joey understood that plans had changed and Andy was not going to be home this evening. Kisses and hugs were exchanged. Joey asked when he would be going to Grandma's (in his way... which is to state, "I'm going to Grandma's on Tuesday. Andy goes to Grandma's on Wednesday." Translation: I want to go to Grandma's, Andy should stay here.) Andy, pleased as punch (who doesn't want to go to Grandma's to get one-on-one attention and red pancakes?), settled into Grandma's truck and off they went.

Joey was in the kitchen with his computer. He had Andy's computer open, too. "Come sit at your computer, Andy, and play," Joey called. Andy was already gone.

I took some time to sit with him. I explained that Andy was at Grandma's house. Joey looked sad, and let me watch him play a few rounds of Tic-Tac-Toe. He told me he would go to Grandma's on Tuesday (BTW, he can't go to Grandma's on Tuesday, because he has school on Wednesday). Then he got up, moved to the livingroom, plopped on the couch, and stared at the silent and blank television.

"Do you want to watch something? You can watch anything you want," I offered in an attempt to cheer him.

"Oswald," he nodded. This was an out-of-character request, but I did have a few episodes recorded, so I turned it on for him, then knelt in front of him and gave him a snuggle and a tickle to get him to giggle. He pushed my face up to look into it.

"You love me." Was it a question, or a statement? It can sometimes be hard to tell.

"I sure do!" I assured him.

"And Grandma loves me."

"Yes, indeed! We all love you! You're the bestest boy that ever, ever was!" (This is a common statement of endearment in my family.)

"And Daddy. And Andy."

"Yes, we all love you."

"I love you, too. Play a game with me?"

"Of course!"

And so we entered a World Championship match of tic-tac-toe until JoeyAndyDad got home. And he kept beating the socks off me.

Wordless Wednesday: Taking a Rest

Mrs. Obama's Gown

I find myself in good company when I say, with all due respect, that I was disappointed by Mrs. Obama's ball gown. Now, seriously, I am no fashionista. In fact, I know almost nothing about fashion, and haute couture just annoys me. Fashions made for stick figures just don't do anything for me. I just didn't like the dress.

Not that it was a complete disaster. It just was such an opportunity to wear the perfect dress, and that opportunity, in my humble opinion was missed.

What the dress did right:
I liked the bare neckline (or would have, without that shoulder thing. Let's pretend that shoulder thing didn't exist for right now.) Mrs. Obama has good shoulders, which is a "rare fair feature" and I am glad they featured it. Also, as an art historian, the showing of strong shoulders creates such a wonderful, powerful image of a self-assertive and powerful person, it was a good thing to emphasize.

I liked the swing and flow of the skirt. When Mrs. Obama turned, there was a dramatic sweep of motion in the skirt, and I think that created a sense of motion and mystery, energy and flow that really worked.

What I would have done differently:
White? White is a color you put on really skinny people to give them an illusion of weight. And I mean really skinny. Brides wear white our of post-Victorian tradition, not for flattering the figure. In fact, many bridal dresses pull out a whole host of other tricks for flattery to make up for the color. On top of that, Mrs. Obama can really wear color, so why not take advantage of that? A rich green. A bright peacock or royal blue. (I'm not into red for inaugurations).

The textured fabric? No, no. no. What were those things? Flowers? The dress needed some sparkle, but keep it flush. Don't look like a bunch of random butterflies just landed all over you. That's more for a kid's prom dress, not an adult's ball gown. Maybe some beading, or some sequin work, a little flash without overdoing it. I'd prefer beads, but they can be a little heavy, and you don't want to disturb the motion in the skirt. Maybe a shimmery material of some kind. LAce is OK if it isn't pop-up.

Waistline- oh dear. Mrs. Obama apparently has a high waistline naturally, so why not go with a faux empire waist to flatter? Especially with the white...

The shoulder thing. Dump it. It was distracting. It was way too heavy. It looked like an afterthought, disturbing the lines of the dress. What was the point? Was that added to help her get in and out of the car or something?

So I think in the end, I wanted there to be more elegance, more of an adult feel to the dress. To me, the dress looked like a glorified prom dress, not a formal ball gown.

I put out this critique not really as a critique of Mrs. Obama. She has the right to have her own taste, and to select any gown she feels is appropriate. This critique is really more about what I feel are appropriate and desirable qualities in a a wife, a mother, a First Lady, and a woman in today's world, as communicated through clothing. In other words, this is not about the Obamas, the designers, or even really a dress; it is about me, how I feel, and what I want. So, Mrs. Obama, go for it. Set your own style, and never wear anything you don't love. Show us your ideas. We want to know!

What is hope?

Waking up at 3 am to find boys all snuggled with you.

Asking Joey what he did today... and having him tell you.

Listening to the boys playing in the next room- and realizing they are not only having a conversation, but bouncing a little story back and forth between them, making up the play narrative together.

Joey practicing for the school spelling bee.

Reports of another good day at school.

Watching the cat voluntarily jump up on a boy bed and settle- with the boy still awake.

Asking for a boy to bring you a glass of water from the kitchen- and having two handed to you.

Two boys strapped in their seats ready to go, and you never touched a seat belt or buckle.

Two boys dressed and playing on their computers downstairs, and you discovered this after rolling out of bed and realizing it was really quiet upstairs.

An SOL nine weeks test with only one question missed.

"Knock knock." "Who's there?" "Orange." "Orange who?" "Orange is not yellow!"

Insanity

Whenever my father makes an appearance, I go a little nutso-bonko. My father and I don't generally get along. More accurately, we often find we have nothing to say to each other. Growing up, nothing was ever good enough. There was always something you could do better. Something more you could have done. Something that should have been done differently. And stranger still, he really couldn't have cared less about it, just that it should have been better.

I have tales I could tell that made even my therapist look at me funny and question my recollection, because it was just incredible. Truth really can be stranger than fiction.

Even when a "visit" is going fairly successfully, I get left with this vibration of "you should have done this. You could have done that." Oh, and "the house is a mess." Such strangeness comes out more when things go wrong. For example, this round, Joey apparently swallowed too much pool water Sunday morning at swimming, and the result was waxing on my father. Score: Joey, one. Father, zero.

JoeyAndyDad bravely and diligently got Joey to the bathroom, and I tried to hail the waitress for a mop. The other customers in the restaurant quietly and tactfully packed up, paid their bills, and skedaddled while I waited for a mop or towels or something to appear to help clean the mess. Finally, I was informed that she couldn't get a mop, because the mop was in the men's room.

So I fetched it. Joey was still sick. Hot water was slowly fetched- then the mop placed in my hands. Huh? But the smell was getting to me, I had to get it cleaned up. Where were my children? My father? My husband? Apparently the husband was being bundled up with the sick child to take home. Car seats needed to be moved. Waxxing still needed to be cleaned. The other child was hungry. There was pizza in there somewhere, and the salad I had been eating disappeared. When the dust settled, JoeyAndyDad had taken Joey home to rest, and I was caught at the mercy of my father with Andy and my father's wife at a pizza place that would really rather we just leave.

Right. As we finally packed up and went to pay for the pizza, it was just my father and I at the register, waiting to pay for the pizza.

And now I will toss in another tidbit. Remember that brother I haven't seen or heard from in ten years? Apparently he made an appearance at the family Christmas gathering we didn't go to because driving to Pennsylvania with two small children, especially small children who may get carsick, for a two-hour upheaval in a new place, is just not a great idea. I learned this because last weekend, my cousin's husband showed up with the Cousins, and we were driving to the pizza place (yes, the same one- I got in the car with him so he wouldn't get lost), and he thought I knew, so started talking about it. He thought I knew because my aunt and uncle have already been by since the event. I think they didn't mention it because they probably thought my dad should be the one to tell me, which is perfectly reasonable in this kind of situation.

So we stand at the register, just us. Perfect moment to start a conversation about something. Anything. Would he tell me? Would he have something else to say, like "the boys look good" or "you seem to be doing a great job" or even "gee, the weather sure is nice."

We stood there in silence. Was it my place to say something? Should I have just gone ahead and put something out there? But that isn't how we work. Um, well, I guess we don't work. Silence reigned. The entire visit finally passed without one mention of my brother. I did hear a lot about their trip to South Dakota, though. Oh, and I heard about my porch needing repairs. He'll come help if I hire a few other people to help.


Skip to today, and lingering insanity. I made pot roast for dinner today. I managed to get it together enough to get the potatoes cut, the carrots in, the meat in, and turn the crockpot on. Hey, that's a big deal around here. The boys got a new toy from my father, a Mickey Motor Speedway. I don't recommend it. It would be a fabulous toy if it stayed put together. But it doesn't. I might get the glue out tonight. The boys have been playing with it. Then it falls apart, and there is much screaming until I can get it back together. Joey decided he wanted the other car. That was a mess, involving deliberate pulling apart of the toy. Really, I can't much complain, but it was enough to be on my nerves with my nerves not so great to begin with.

Poor JoeyAndyDad came home tired. Not hungry. Must have packed enough food for him today when I packed his lunch bag last night.

Six o'clock arrived. I wandered into the kitchen, took up the lid on the pot roast and looked at it. The edges were too dark. It looked dry. I must have forgotten to put in the bouillon. Why did I make it, anyway? No one is going to eat it. The boys don't like pot roast. It will sit upon their plates. Joey will poke at it, and might eat it if he's really, really hungry; more likely, he will just say he's full and push it away, then ask for a peanut butter sandwich. Andy won't be so subtle. "EWWWW!" is his favorite dinnertime word, followed by, "I don't eat that! It's yucky!" JoeyAndyDad already said he probably didn't want any.

Why did I even make it? Was it for me?

I slopped the roast into a casserole and stuck it in the fridge, and fixed the boys food they would eat- sliced raw green pepper, a PBJ for Joey, some rolled lunchmeat for Andy, some grapes, and a cheese stick each. Andy even ate a couple slices of the pepper.

Notes to self

If you have two computers, and one is larger and gotten dinosaur stickers stuck all over it, guess which computer both children want to play on?

A crayon lost too close to the fireplace will melt if you light a fire.

If today is the day your father has decided to make an appearance, it is not the day to forget to take your antidepressants.

Do not leave blankets lying on the floor around the house. Cats prefer them to litter boxes.
Corollary: Cat pee rolls off cheap pressed-polyester blankets. Have paper towels handy.

If your child is looking pale, refusing pizza, and seeming to cover his mouth with his hand, it is already too late to get him to the bathroom. Just get a mop.

Do not tip the waitress at the restaurant who makes you do the mopping.

Fixing the heat

My house has been a bit cold lately. the spring before last winter, we had teh air conditioning on the first floor fixed with a new heat pump unit. Yay! We took out the window units and settled into a new life of cool comfort. Then came last winter. The house was a little cool, but that was OK. A sweater never hurt anybody, and we kept the bills down, and it never got so cold that the heat pump didn't work.

Flash forward to this week. For those of you unfamiliar with heat pumps, for them to work until, say, 40 degree high days, you need to have a heat coil unit. The units are expensive, the heat is expensive, and they still have issues with keeping a house with old windows heated. We do not have that coil unit. We opted to keep our gas boiler. The heating and cooling folks were supposed to set it up so we could turn on teh boiler if it got bad.

Natural gas prices have skyrocketed right with them gas prices. Only they don't go down so fast. So we have been braving it with the fireplace, space heaters, and the option to turn on the boiler if it got bad. This week, it got bad. Down the stairs went the brave JoeyAndyDad to turn on the boiler.

He flipped the switch upstairs. He flipped the switch downstairs. The boiler lighter click-click-clicked. The radiators started getting water in them. But the gas did not fire up with its glorious WHOOSH of heat and comfort. All we had was click-click-click and the smell of gas.

Not good.

So we battened down hatches, called the heating and cooling folks, and put extra blankets on the beds. Yesterday, I got the fire roaring while we waited for the heating and cooling guy. And he arrived. On time and everything, because we use the good heating and cooling people in town, we don't joke around. And they are awesome.

And he looked at the furnace, and the wiring, and what had happened with the installation of the other unit, and wow, he was hot. Apparently, the other guys were supposed to do something very different, with a whole different kind of thermostat. They were supposed to hook us up so that the boiler switched on automatically when it got to be 40 degrees outside, and not have us completely dependent on a heat pump. What they did instead was try to rig it so that I had to manually turn on the boiler- which was causing some kind of electrical signal issue, so that when we tried to turn on the boiler, we got no heat at all. And what made him mad is that apparently, I wasn't supposed to have requested this, since our heat pump had no emergency coils, it should have just been matter-of-course in the installation.

So he got us our boiler working. And now he'll be back next week with the proper thermostat, and install that like it should have been almost two years ago. And my house will not be chilly ever again... unless I make it that way on purpose, or something breaks.

Happy cold snap.

Hard Times

Some days are beautiful, wonderful journeys of growth and learning. And some days are floundering in the dust. That's life for you. Sometimes those days are the same day. Just bizarre.

Joey has been having some rough days. Lots of spacing invading. Lots of wild, unpredictable behavior. Lots of annoying the brother. Meltdowns. General malaise. Not good.

Mrs. H and I are trying to put together the clues and figure out what is going on. We're pretty sure the new classmate in the morning- Joey's time in the autism resource room- is a factor. We're sure the post-Christmas breakdown is feeding into the issues. Losing a tooth- especially with all the blood involved- didn't help. But is there more? Are we seeing a sensory shift? Do we need new strategies? New inputs? What can we be doing to support him?

Another day slips by

Joey was sick today. I'm not sure if he had a bug, or if he just got so upset last night that he upset his tummy. He lost a tooth, but there was blood involved, and he really melted down. He was up and down all night saying his tummy hurt. When it was still hurting this morning, I just kept him home.

Which means I had extra snuggle-time with a little boy. I was curled up with my baby, in my room, watchin' us some Max and Ruby, snuggly-buggly. It was cold downstairs, it was warm in my room. All too soon he was ready to get up, Grandma was downstairs to check on him and see the missing tooth (and the cool blue car the Tooth Fairy left for him!), and the morning was gone. Just another memory.

Joey has been going to school since he was two and a half. When other kids aren't even wondering about school, just getting their first tastes of the world, Joey was getting on a big yellow bus and having a life away from me. Parents who choose to send their kids to daycares or babysitters at young ages don't know what I am getting at. Those who sent their kids into care because they had to work have an inkling. I missed those lazy mornings with my toddler, hugging and exploring and discovering.

A morning with me and Joey is a very special treat. I love Andy, I will miss the mornings I now have with him when he goes to school. I love having two boys bouncing on the bed and giggling. But I don't get a lot of just-us with Joey. I'm sorry he has to feel bad to have a snuggle-morning of just us. Taking out of school when he isn't feeling bad wouldn't be the thing to do, though- it would create anxiety for him to not have a schedule, to not have structure and activities. I know this because of vacations and weekends. Still, I wish we had more time. Some days he feels so very far away.

Long Days Without Posting

My apologies for the spotty posting. 'Tis the beginning of a new semester, and I go back to the classroom at GCC for the first time in four years. I also return to UMW with Arts of the Buddhist World, which has had a three-year hiatus (I taught Arts of Asia two springs ago, and Arts of the Silk Road last spring). Everything has needed updating, refreshing, and digitizing. We also had return to school with the usual bumps and lumps. Oh, and I had to take my Christmas decorations down. I really haven't had much time to think, and less to write. I have to have some time, my computer, and my brain working all at the same time. that hasn't been happening much.

But never fear. It will all calm down soon. Then I'll get to write about it. Maybe.

For the want of a fastener

Usually when Joey gets home, the Witching Hour begins. They both want to play a game, but neither want to share any of the parts or toys or pieces. It isn't good enough for each of them to have a computer, they want to be on the same computer. One things they hardly ever do is go over to the craft table and start making anything beyond maybe drawing or writing with magic markers.

With all the Christmas stuff out, I have most of the craft stuff put away, and blocked off by other stuff we usually have out, but right now needed out of the way for Christmas. So- you guessed it- today they wanted to make stuff. Andy wanted to make stick puppets (guess where the sticks are?) and Joey wanted to make a paper-plate clock. I managed the plates, but not the construction paper Joey wanted to make the hands. Then came the ultimate offense.

In order to make a paper plate clock, the hands have to be held on by a fastener thing, a little brass or steel thing that you put through the hole of loose-leaf paper, then it butterflies out like a mollybolt to hold the papers together. This lovely little device allows the hands to move while attached to the plate.

I don't own any.



The meltdown was immediate, but thankfully quicker than usual, and I got him to use his words to ask to go to the store to buy one. Into the car and off to Staples we go! Certainly the one store on earth that will have paper fasteners, right?

Wrong.

Three stores later, and we still have no paper fasteners. I have distracted him with a plastic schoolbus from the Roses(its closing, so it was a whopping fifty cents) and a playdate with Max and Charlie and Jack (which we were late for, looking for fasteners), but no clock. What am I going to do?

FRIDAY UPDATE: I found some very expensive ones at A.C.Moore. Joey got to make his clock today!

Wordless Wednesday: Bubblewrap Is Your Friend

For Stimey

Once there was a rabbit preparing for an IEP meeting. She was busy outside her hole, digging up reports, franticly reading articles and books, and trying to find out what her baby bunny needed to be successful in school. As she was looking through all of her papers and books and websites, an administrator fox came up to the rabbit with jaws open wide.

"Haha!" said the fox, "I am going to eat you up!"

"Oh, please, Mr. Fox, don't eat me yet," the rabbit pleaded. "I just need to get through this IEP meeting so my baby bunny will get the services she needs to be successful at school."

"Oh, hoho!" the fox replied. "I won't fall for that. You'll never get the services you need, because there isn't enough money in the school to pay for them!"

"But the law says budget concerns cannot be used to turn a student down for services. Besides, these services will save the district money in the long run. Come on down into my hole, and I will show you all the calculations I have done to prove it."

The fox was incredulous, but he followed the rabbit down the hole. He was never seen again.

A few days later, the rabbit was again busily preparing for the IEP meeting. She was surrounded by letters from specialists, generalists, and therapists. She had three-ring binders stuffed with paperwork, carefully organized. She was working on a powerpoint presentation about her baby bunny's needs, strengths, and supports. As she was busily preparing, a school coyote appeared from the bushes with mouth open wide.

"Haha!" said the coyote, "I am going to eat you up!"

Oh, please, Ms. Coyote, don't eat me yet," the rabbit pleaded. "I just need to get through this IEP meeting so my baby bunny will get the services she needs to be successful at school."

"Oh, hoho!" the coyote replied, "I won't fall for that. You'll never get the services you want, because we can't hire any more personnel for the school year, and we have no one qualified to provide these services!"

"But the law says you need to provide an appropriate education in the least restrictive environment," the rabbit explained, "These services are needed for my bunny to participate in an appropriate environment. Come on down into my hole, and I will show you all the data I have collected to prove it."

The coyote was incredulous, but she followed the rabbit down the hole. She was never seen again.

The following week, the rabbit was sitting on her front porch, having a glass of wine, waiting for little bunny to come home from school. Her friend squirrel saw her and stopped to chat.

"How did the IEP meeting go?"squirrel asked politely, and prepared for the onslaught of commentary. But Rabbit smiled broadly and offered her friend a celebratory glass of wine.

"The meeting was great, We got the services little bunny needs, and she is already doing much better at school. Come down and have some wine!"

So squirrel followed the rabbit into her hole, which though not exactly tidy, was comfortable enough. To one side of the cozy living room was a pile of fox bones. To the other side was a pile of coyote bones. And in the back, stretched out in front of a cozy fire, was a large Advocate Lion.

Moral of the story: the schools may give you all sorts of crazy reasons to not provide services, even if you do all the work to prove the services are needed. What really matters is having the right advocate/lawyer on your side.

Break Ends

After three rather hairy days, the boys were perfect angels yesterday. Hallelujah.

I know I tend to blog about this after every single break, but... I never wanted to be one of those moms who moan and groan about how long breaks are. I wanted to be having so much fun with my kids when they were home that I would be as disappointed about the return to school as they were. And in some ways, I am; after all, both boys love school, so they aren't disappointed about going back.

I am also not groaning about break being 16 days this year instead of 12-14 for the same reasons as others who groan. I don't really want to relinquish my children; if I thought they would like it, I would cuddle them at home every day forever. Or take them all over the place. I'm not ready to return them to school to get them away from me, because I feel I have better things to do (what could be better than boy squishing, 24/7?)

I groan because I see what it does to them to have so long away from routine, schedule, and learning.

In my short summer break, I do everything I can. I will be saving my pennies this year to take them to Wakefield, to Williamsburg, to Maymont, to Colonial Beach, to the zoo, to the Baltimore Aquarium, to the farm, anywhere and everywhere I can think of. Keep them moving, keep them engaged, keep them having fun, and everything is wonderful. Winter break is different. Being outside is harder, because it is colder, or rainy, or you are trying to get decorations up and down. Everyone else is having the same problem, so they are crammed into the same indoor activities you are trying to get into, and the boys don't do well with crowds. Trying to get them to do crafts and things at home is a bit of a challenge. Andy is better about doing things than Joey (it takes more effort for Joey to be successful, so he prefers other things at home- like his beloved and predictable computer games from Noggin and Starfall.)

Consequently, with no schedule, no routine, everything in holiday upheaval, we end up with major meltdowns, long whiny days, and general malaise that is not good for anybody. An extra three days of a break means my boys have three extra days of being unhappy and uncomfortable, three extra days of me trying to schedule and structure, and failing.

I gotta figure this out. We can't be doing this every Christmas break for the next 12 years.

With Apologies to Mrs. H

I lay next to Andy, waiting for him to sleep. If I move too soon, we must start over from scratch, so I try to stay still. From the next room wafts the whispers, squeaks, squeals, and giggles of another sleepless boy. Most of it is soundified, incomprehensible gibberish, a steady stream of motor-sound and oral stim. Occasionally I catch a few of what were once words, or the current favorite mantra, which has clung to some thread of meaning, and which Joey finds hilariously funny. Over and over, chanting and giggling, Joey tries to talk himself to sleep.

Christmas break is hard. There is almost no chance of establishing a routine, a pattern from day to day to day to let Joey get his bearings and steer through the jumble of sound, glitter, and cold. I think the lack of daylight affects him, too. We do best with bedtime in spring and fall. In summer, the days are too long; in winter, they are too short. Even the simplest of structure eludes us. Getting up in the morning, he never knows when Dad will have the day off, even if it is mid-week. People may visit the house, which is topsy-turvy and filled with unusual, glittery items that only come out for about a month, sometimes just a week. The weather doesn't help, either; this year, it was 70 degrees one day, 40 degrees the next.

At first, he retreated to his computer, a safe haven of games that always act the same, once you figure out the rules of the game. But with so much to do and see and what-have-you, often there are stretches of unscheduled hours spent in cars, other homes, other places seeing other people and doing other things, all of which are unexpected, no matter how much warning I give him- and sometimes I have little warning myself. Left to self-regulate, sound becomes key. Clicking returns. Mantras- appropriate and otherwise- roar to life with a vengeance. It's the Witching Hour, all day, every day... and this year, for sixteen days (winter break is usually 13-14 days).

I listen to the stream of whispers and giggles. At least he's happy. Or finds it funny. He did fine through Christmas day, then everything began to deteriorate. Mrs. H sent me home a happy, huggy, smiling boy, and I'm going to send her back a echolallic mess.

Happy 2009

Nobody else is stronger than I am
Yesterday I moved a mountain
I bet I could be your hero
I am a mighty little man.

-Steve Burns, Mighty Little Man

To all our mighty men and women, and their fabulous families: We love you. Happy New Year. Keep up the amazing work.

The funniest thing of all time.

A frequent perception of autistic kids is that they lack a sense of humor. Joey is not that way, though he has trouble with jokes; understanding them and telling them so that they're funny to others is extremely challenging for him.

So when I arrived back at the homestead after the day's work, I was greeted with, 'Does a snowman zerzer wiener? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA', accompanied by several Andy cackles.

Wha? Can he possibly have said what I thought I heard him say? Oh yes. 'Daddy, hahahaha, does a snowman, ka-ha-ha, have a WIEEEEENERR?' I lost it. Bad daddy, I know.  Apparently this had been a frequent refrain today on the less-than-stressfree outing to the Christmas store in Ashland. My bad. 

Oh, the hilarity. But now, I had to put this particular horse back in the barn. Because things that Joey finds funny can get said at any time, in any situation, in front of any one. I like it that he's developing a sense of humor, even if it is potty humor. It IS age-appropriate, after all. It's the lack of contextual use that is the problem. If he wants to talk like this around his peers and his brother (and me), I'm all about that. It's a vital social skill that will help him make friends and fit in when/if that's what he wants.

But what about if he says it to a girl in his class? Or his grandmother? (which of course he has done!) Or a teacher? People are hyper-sensitive about this kind of thing as it is, and he just doesn't need any more social hurdles to climb.

But no, Joey. Most snowmen definitely do not have wieners. Now we get to ask him why he thinks that is. Good times.

Foot Stimming

You can tell its a holiday around here- the boys are foot stimming a lot more. This is what I call it when they step and stand on things on purpose, or try to get a lot of input through their feet (like jumping a lot). The trampoline is rolled away for the holiday, but it may be time to pull it back out...

Andy likes the lego tub top best. He puts it in front of the TV, then rocks on the raised rim while watching his Zoboomafoo.

Joey likes jumping on things and into the shallow pool at the gym.

They've both been standing on blankie and even skiffing about with blankie under their feet. Blankie is knit, so the texture provides input. They've also been trying to bounce on the sofa a lot.

Shoes and socks seem to be either completely to be banned, or worn constantly. Usually banned.

The foot input also means Andy and Joey both have more trouble sitting without footstools to put their feet on. That little bit of elevation means you lean onto your feet more, thus more input. At lunch yesterday, there was a lot of dancing around the chairs.

My current plan is to track down some bubble wrap and put it on my floor to test my theory, If I find two little guys attracted to it like flies to honey, then I'll know we need to invest in some more. And get the trampoline back out.

What I have learned this Christmas (so far)

1. Don't bother wrapping Joey's presents. The unwrapping process exhausts him, and the overload of excitement means it will take all day to unwrap his presents.
2. Once Joey has the toy he wants, he's done. The rest of the presents can sit there until next Christmas.
3. Boys. Trains. Life is good.
4. Andy, a ball, Joey sitting on the ball, and a pair of loppers left on the porch is not going to turn out well. (No one got hurt, but Joey was heartbroken about the ball.)
5. You can explain socially significant things to Andy using words.
6. Lightsticks make great nightlights.
7. Children really will fall asleep during a story if the story is long enough. And is about girls, and they are boys.
8. In the time it takes me to put Andy's coat on him, Joey can be out the office door, out the building, to the van, and buckling himself into his seat.
9. If you need a toy to distract a child, go for the dancing, singing turkey. Seriously.
10. Even if the tinsel is only on the tree at someone else's house, not yours, and you go to visit that someone, tinsel appears at your house.
11. Tinsel does indeed go undigested through the digestive system of a cat.

You can take a little tour of my Christmas decorations here.

Need a notebook

Over the past couple of days, I thought of at least half a dozen things to blog about.

Now I have a minute and the computer, I can't remember any of them.

I suck.

Merry Christmas!

We had a lovely, quiet Christmas. The boys were very happy to see those presents! Andy was ready to jump right in ad tear that paper off to get to all his treats. Don't worry, Santa brought him his dragon.

Joey was a little more stand-offish, but he was very happy to unwrap that first present and find a large blue car- just what he wanted! Joey wears out faster, and after three packages, he retreated to the quieter kitchen to play some video games before coming out to open more gifts.

Andy was also excited to get this wonderful pirate ship! He has been playing with it, and when he got stickers in his stocking, he turned it into a dinosaur ship!

Yarr! 'Tis a pirate ship, matey!

The ship has sailed all over the first floor in search of adventure. It has been attacked by dragons, laid seize to a castle, and even sailed past the fearful Turkey of Death!

It is always fascinating to watch Andy play and make up his own stories to go with his toys.

Joey got his car, but he also got some other nice toys, like a rocket and the aforementioned castle, and lots of legos.

I think he liked the rocket because Max likes rockets. The boys got personal DVD players from Grandma, and he's been watching himself some Max and Ruby! It was very calming for him, which is always a good thing. Joey did very well remember to take breaks and take his time. The self-regulation is coming right along!

Mom and JoeyAndyDad and Grandma and Uncle Evan got some cool presents, too. Joey gave me a necklace, a ring, a potholder, and a candle holder; Andy got me a lovely winter decoration. Grandma got a salt and pepper shaker set from Joey, and tea towels from Andy. Andy got Dad a mug and a tie that plays Jingle Bells. I also got a cool iPod Nano, and JoeyAndyDad got some Apple gadget thing he wanted. It's not an iPhone, but its everything but the phone.

After the main presents,we had some lunch, then took our time to open up the stockings. They had small goodie bags in their rooms when they woke up, but stockings here are full of small toys, candy, and a clementine in the toe.

The boys got harmonicas from Santa in their stockings. I have been informed that I am not permitted to complain about the cacophony.

Andy likes to perform for the singing, dancing turkeys. Perhaps he will be a musician!

He also liked sneaking up on and pouncing on the turkeys, and preying upon them as a T-Rex. Diving at them and knocking them over so their little feet flapped helplessly in the air was also a popular passtime.

Another popular toy was the shark fan Andy got from Joey's teacher, which also attacked the castle, ship, and Turkey of Death.

We also played a few rounds of the fishing games, and ate lots of chocolate. Oh, and cookies. And roast beef. And more chocolate. I need to bake more cookies next year.

One thing that Joey told us he wanted was snow. Until a couple days before Christmas, "snow" was the only consistent thing he asked for. Santa couldn't control the weather, so he brought Joey some snow in a tub- the kind you add water to.

Andy's stocking also included a volcano and plenty of chocolate, a fishing game, and plenty of dinosaurs.

The boys also got these tin lasers- no batteries required. Andy had a shoot-out with his Daddy. Old-fashioned toys are so cool- all the play value, none of the batteries (so they work better for longer!)

Get him, Andy! Get that Dad!

Watching the guys play is one of the star attractions of Christmas Day. :)

Even Dad got something cool- this solid chocolate Santa! Yum yum yum! Who doesn't want a huge chocolate Santa for Christmas, after all? (yes, I did say "solid"!)

Other hits of the day? The Ladybug game, the faux dissect-a-frog, the remote-control tarantula, and Hyperdash! I hope to get some batteries into Joey's lightning machine machine soon, and let you know what that's like.

Of course, Joey's favorites included the singing stockings- the reindeer and the puppy. As afraid as he is of regular dogs, stuffed toys are an attraction. He took the puppy to bed, singing Jingle Bells!

Wordless Wednesday: Christmas is a-Comin'!

(Or, alternatively, Why are all these fat geese running around?)