Yes, folks, he IS reading!

Our ABA therapist, Becca, came up from a decent session this morning and gave me an in-depth report about the fact that Joey is reading. Not on a sixth-grade level or anything, but definitely reading- three-letter words no problem, some longer ones. We think this is pretty darn cool. I was reading pretty good by his age, and so was my husband, but neither of us had any language issues.

This evening, I pulled out a new book for him to look at. It was about Cars, to catch his interest, but not one he had seen much of. I had read it to them once, but bedtime storytime is not an activity that usually including paying attention to teh mom reading a story, so I wasn't too concerned about him memorizing the thing from one reading.

I am not a teacher, and I know very little about how young children read or learn to read. I know there are two ways to read, sight reading (recognizing words on sight, rather than sounding them out) and phonetic reading (sounding out the words). In reading our new book together, Joey clearly has some words by sight (like "the" and "and" and "car"). Words he didn't know by sight, we worked on sounding out, and he tried sounding out. As far as I know, this is a normal way to read. What I found interesting was the attempts at sounding out. Joey is very familiar with letters and the sounds they make, However, he often made the sound for a similar letter, rather than the letter he was looking at. For example, looking at the word "slowly", he would try it as "slooty" or "stewly" or even "stowly". The inconsistancy of it, and the use of similar letters, was kind of odd to me.

But he got through! We read the whole book, and he was SO PROUD, and I was so proud of him! It was the coolest thing ever! When he really catches on to this, we'll have a another visual avenue of communication with Joey- and he'll have a new avenue for communicating with us! How cool is that?

Plotting

I am thinking of trying to have a camping adventure with my guys, hopefully before school starts. Oobi has a camping episode, and Little Bear goes camping with Father Bear, and one of our Signing Time videos mentions camping, so there has been some interest in tents and things.

The question is how to do it. Camping even with non-autistic young children requires planning. First- inside or really outisde? To have this adventure inside requires clearing floorspace for the tent, but the plus is controlling the temperature and immediate access to such things as bathrooms, comfort objects, and the television. Not exactly camping, is it.

What is the point of this adventure? Exposure to new things, discussing the night-time, learning about nature. Ideally, we'd go out to Grandma's and camp in the woods, with a real campfire, seeing if Joey could deal with roasting marshmallows. Ther would be owls and wood ducks and deer and wild turkeys, as well as rabbits, squirrels, and plenty of trees and bushes.We could wade inteh river and look for crawdads and mussels and minnows. However, what about Joey wandering? If he got really uncomfortable, would Grandma's house be enough of a comfort? Or would he wander into the trees? What if he heard something that interested him? How would I find him? What if the river was a draw?

An alternative plan would be our own back yard. The yard is fenced. i'd need to get a chain and lock for the gate. But we'd be in the town. I suppose that's OK for a first adventure. Backyard it is.

I actually have a tent. Amazon had them cheap for a while. We could use the BBQ as a firepit for marshmallows. It would be kinda Oobi-ish. Now, what activities to keep the attention of small children until they pass out?

telling stories isn't really advisable, as they don't hold attention. Joey's tenuous grasp of narrative, sequencing, and language means he has a very difficult time following stories. Maybe soem kind of craft would be good early on, then marshmallows, and see if we can entice them with songs.

How would they deal with discovering that we are actually sleeping outside all night? That the bedtime routine will be altered? Willthis lead to meltdown, or controllable excitement? Do I have enough ASL to keep Joey focused and able to understand? Should I try to dig out the Oobi episode and talk about this? How far ahead?

It's not really the questions that are out of the ordinary- it's the answers. But we have to prepare, just like everybody else.

More insanity

Our special ed director retired this summer. I could write a whole post about the pros and cons of this, but right now, I'm just hopping mad about a con. There is some confusion about how his job is going to be filled, which has resulted in the person in charge of HeadStart beleiving they are in charge of the building- the WHOLE building- that HeadStart shares with ECSE. They decided HeadStart needed a room on the first floor for their 3-year-olds, so they moved one of the ESCE classrooms upstairs- and THEN informed the ESCE teacher that this had ALREADY HAPPENED. On top of that, this person won't even let them move all of their stuff- they have decided, for example, that the para doesn't need a desk, so did not approve moving the desk.

What the... ?

My buddy Jack is still in that room. Why they think it appropriate to move a child who cannot walk on his own upstairs is beyond me. If the elevator isn't working- and its use is already strongly discouraged- how will they access the cafeteria? The gym? The playground? What if there is a fire? Normal 3-year-olds can safel use the stair. Jack can't. They would have to carry him- putting more people in danger.

Angry, angry, angry. What a way to start a day. :(

Just a little crazy

We're about to go into a crazy period here in JoeyWorld and AndyLand. My apologies if this results in spotty blogging. There are only 24 hour in a day.

I start back to teaching this week. Two sections online. Next week, I have a live double section. I love teaching live courses. Online ones, not so good. Online students have no qualms sending nasty emails- after all, they never see you, so you're just the faceless Establishment. Why put on a respectful face?

Then the boys start school. Joey starts on the 4th. Andy starts on the 11th. Let's hear it for school! Shame its a game of Russian Roulette. And I always miss my Joey- now I'll be missing my Andy, too. My boys are getting all grown up!

And now my mom is being told she has to have her gall bladder out now, now, now. I had mine out right after Joey was born (I was still in the maternity ward when it went bad- they forget to tell you how prevalent it is for recently pregnant women to have gall stones), so I suspect it will be at least a week before she'll be able to do things like walk around the house by herself, much less make food and take her sugar numbers. She has her first meeting with the surgeon on Tuesday.

So if I seem a little battier than usual...

I have returned!

I'm BAAAAAAAA-AAAAAACK!

I was thinking I was going to have more time to blog over the weekend. The hotel had access and everything. Silly me. But the time was not frittered. My husband figured out how to do video conferencing over the computer. I got to SEE and TALK to my boys each evening!!! How's that for Hero Husband? Go JoeyAndyDad!!!! Let's hear it for my Allan! ***CHEERS!!***

Unfortunately, my train was late and I didn't get to see the boys. I went in and smooched 'em anyway. How can one resist those sweet little sleepy heads?

We've gotten some red flags tossed up about school. We thought we had everything settled about kindergarden and his new teacher and stuff, and suddenly the messages we're getting is that the summer school teacher is going to have him and she "reminded" me that he needs to be registered. He's already registered, and I thought we were having the teacher I've been talking to already? Not good. We're really nervous. Not that the summer lady hasn't done OK, but she's not like the other teacher, and we were really excited about the other lady, really feeling comfortable and happy. Silly us.

We still don't know what "keem" is. It hasn't come up again.

But I'll keep you posted.

Prepping for a trip

I have to go to NJ this weekend for work. I have a great job. I get to work at home most of the time- but twice a year, I have to go to NJ. I always worry when I go away. Its not that Allan can't take care of the kids, or anything like that, but I know Joey gets off-kilter. Even more, I miss my guys.

I do try my best to do some recharging in NJ. The food is usually pretty good, and I don't have to cook it. ;) Sometimes I get a single room, which is much nicer, but I usualy have a room-mate, which can really suck. :P I'm hoping to get my syllabi together. We'll see.

Bu there will me no boys to squish. No little diaper-free butts to pat. No lollipops to fetch. No goodnight kisses.

I hate traveling.

Forays into the unknown

Every once in a while- usually when Joey is not feeling tiptop- we have a meltdown for which Joey knows the reason, and is trying to tell us, and we just cannot make out what the hell is going on. He is looking for a specific object, but the words he is using to label the object make no sense. The game of 20 questions trying to discover what the object might be is rarely useful, because he does not answer questions accurately. Let's take this evening for an example.

"Can I have my keem?"

I have no idea what a "keem" is. Twenty Questions begins. What is it? A keem. You may have it; go get it. I want my keem. Where is it? It's there (accompanied by pointing in random directions). OK, show me. I want my keem!

So now we get off our butt and start looking for what this object might be. He was playing with some matchbox cars and Cars is playing on the tv. Maybe the object is a car. Is it "The King?"

I find The King, but this is not the object, and is rejected.

What color is it? It's green. He shakes his hand to sign green. OK, I am looking for a green object. I find a green car he was playing with earlier. This is not the object. It is immediately rejected.

Does it have wheels? No. Ok, not a car. What else could "keem" be?

Joey is now spiraling into tears because I'm an idiot who doesn't know what a "keem" is.

How about "game"? He's been perseverating on a little electronic thing that does math. Does he want his game? No. Green car.

So it's a car. Without wheels. That does not compute.

And unfortunately, though the game is "Twenty Questions", we've actually maxxed out on the number of questions he'll attempt to answer on the subject without complete meltdown. Any more inquiries are either ignored or meet the same response: a wail and gnashing of child, screaming "My KEEEEEEEEEEEEM!"

I give up and send him up to his bath. I may never find out what a keem is. I hope he will sleep without it, but one can never tell. This may re-blow-up after bathtime, or it could be transitioned and done. Only time will tell.

12

Today we ran up to my aunt and uncle's for a dip in the pool- Joey's request. Last night, that sweet little guy asked if he could "go swimming, go to beach, go swim with the cousins" meaning my cousin's twins and a trip to my aunt and uncle's to swim in their pool. I called them immediately to ask to come, and they were all for it. Yay, the part of the family that gets it!

A good time was had by all.

Then we got the usual signal that it was time to go. Joey began to perseverate.

We had been there all afternoon. The little guy was tired. His brother was exhausted. They were having fun. My aunt has one of those wooden German calendars on her wall, and one of the little wooden peices is, of course, a number 12. This is Joey's favorite number.

I am not sure why 12 is the number of choice. I could theorize on the subject, discuss the patterning and the sequential allure of the number 1 next to the number 2 to create the number 12, or a whole gambit of other associations possible, many of which would seem completely random to most people, and incomprensible to anyone not intimate with autism generally and Joey specifically. Whatever the reason, perseverating the number 12 means bedtime. Tired. Done. When he starts going on abotu the number 12, it's time to check for tiredness, exhaustion, or (if in the middle of the day for no apparent reason) fever. This is one of those ways Joey communicates that is hard to explain to people who expect other people to simply state what they need, or use words and language in direct ways. These are the kinds of little signals we've always picked up on with Joey.

12. {I'm tired.} I was 12. Give me 12. Look, a 12. I am 12. Where's the 12? 12. 12.

Fortunately, this is the part of the family that gets it, because they raised the daughter of another cousin, who was special needs (epilepsy and probable FAS). So when I suddenly announced it was time to go, and hustled everyone out the door and to the car, no offense was, I believe, taken. I think the sudden change in demeanor was a cue for them, too.

He's right now 12-ing on Allan's recliner. We don't have the heart to move such a 12 boy.

Going to the restaurant

Joey was just a little talking bug today- jabber, jabber, jabber. Gotta love it. He ate three slices of pizza for Daddy. PIZZA. You know, with tomato sauce and cheese and bread and sausage, all together, mixed up and layered to be bitten through, not picked apart. PIZZA. Joey. I am still on the floor in search of my teeth.

I was working over at Mom's today, so I got this news via phone with husband, rather than witnessing the event myself. Our van is on the fritz, so mom had to shuttle me around today, so we took Joey to church for music. He sat there and listened like any sweet little darling, curled up on the pew next to Grandma. He tried to sing the songs today and everything.

He was doing so well, that when we returned home to find Andy had fallen asleep, we decided to just take Joey out to eat.

He was SO excited. He just learned the sign for "restaurant" so he was showing it off gleefully, while informing all and sundry, "I am going to the restaurant! I am being in the restaurant! I eat in the restaurant! I am going in the restaurant!" He got to order his food himself ("I want the french fries and the chicken!") and pick out his food from the salad bar (he wanted mashed potatoes, cottage cheese, and watermelon), and even got his ownself-serve ice cream for dessert. But most amazing of all, he tried new food! He ate Grandma's cabbage (with and without cheese), and baked potato!

Who is this child, and where did they take Joey?

Seriously, he had a grand time, and really seems to be turning a corner on food and oral sensitivities. But now he is complaining that the church music is too loud, and covering his ears.

The Dog Days

We have just entered The Last Week. Joey's summer programs all end a week from today. Then we have two weeks of basically nothing- an abyss- before school begins.

We're not the only family to sign up for eight weeks of speech camp this summer. Or summer school. While maintaining our regular therapies. And then add a social skills camp to these last two weeks. Andy has patiently sat in the therapists office from 1 o'clock on, sometimes to 6 o'clock... all summer long. He has also not been alone.

There is a little girl who has sat in the office most of the summer while her brother is in speech camp. Is she seven? Eight? Old enough to like to do cartwheels across the waiting room and spruce up her pretty little face with Hello Kitty lipgloss. There are two preteen girls who come less often, but armed with DVDs and drawing pads, also waiting for speech camp siblings. There are two little girls and their baby brother awaiting a child in OT, who like to play with the plastic dolls' house in the speech room. The baby likes to climb the stairs and look down at his Dad through the rails. He also happens to have Down's Syndrome. There are some other siblings that come less often, or who I have seen less of at any rate. One is only eleven days old.

Whenever I think its been a long summer, I think of these kids. It's been a long summer for them, too. They didn't go to day camp, or cheerleading camp, or sports camp, or any of the things other non-special-needs kids seem to be doing. They didn't get to do lots of enrichment programs, or spend lots of lazy days by the pool. They didn't go to the beach. They stayed mostly right here, supporting their brothers and sisters as best they could by letting mom or dad or grandma or grandpa drag them to the therapy office day after day, and thus allow their siblings to have their therapies.

Next summer (and yes, I fully expect to be doing this again next summer), I'll probably ask the therapists if they mind if we have a Sibling Camp. Something to offer these kids besides sitting in the waiting room doing... well, not much. It could be free. I've got enough art supplies laying around here to put something together. A sprinkler in the parking lot would be OK for a brief activity when it wasn't absolutely boiling. Singing new songs and maybe even playing some Signing Time or other activity-related DVDs wouldn't cost anything. It would even be easy enough to have stuff that kids could easily walk-in/walk-out from; stations or quickie crafts so that anyone can join in, or opt out, as appointments allow. Just something so these kids don't feel like they spent the summer sitting around a waiting room. Something to get them through these last dog days of the summer, before the Abyss.

A World of Delphiniums

The Dormouse and the Doctor
By A. A. Milne

There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And all the day long he'd a wonderful view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said:
"Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed.
Just say 'Ninety-nine' while I look at your chest....
Don't you find that chrysanthemums answer the best?"

The Dormouse looked round at the view and replied
(When he'd said "Ninety-nine") that he'd tried and he'd tried,
And much the most answering things that he knew
Were geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

The Doctor stood frowning and shaking his head,
And he took up his shiny silk hat as he said:
"What the patient requires is a change," and he went
To see some chrysanthemum people in Kent.

The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue),
And he knew there was nothing he wanted instead
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

The Doctor came back and, to show what he meant,
He had brought some chrysanthemum cuttings from Kent.
"Now these," he remarked, "give a much better view
Than geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."

They took out their spades and they dug up the bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"And now," said the Doctor, "we'll soon have you right."

The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh:
"I suppose all these people know better than I.
It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."

The Doctor came round and examined his chest,
And ordered him Nourishment, Tonics, and Rest.
"How very effective," he said, as he shook
The thermometer, "all these chrysanthemums look!"

The Dormouse turned over to shut out the sight
Of the endless chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"How lovely," he thought, "to be back in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red.)"

The Doctor said, "Tut! It's another attack!"
And ordered him Milk and Massage-of-the-back,
And Freedom-from-worry and Drives-in-a-car,
And murmured, "How sweet your chrysanthemums are!"

The Dormouse lay there with his paws to his eyes,
And imagined himself such a pleasant surprise:
"I'll pretend the chrysanthemums turn to a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!"

The Doctor next morning was rubbing his hands,
And saying, "There's nobody quite understands
These cases as I do! The cure has begun!
How fresh the chrysanthemums look in the sun!"

The Dormouse lay happy, his eyes were so tight
He could see no chrysanthemums, yellow or white.
And all that he felt at the back of his head
Were delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

And that is the reason (Aunt Emily said)
If a Dormouse gets in a chrysanthemum bed,
You will find (so Aunt Emily says) that he lies
Fast asleep on his front with his paws to his eyes.

I worry that Joey will grow up in a world full of Doctors. Right now, he is such a happy little dormouse, in a world bright with red and blue. May he never let them dig up his geraniums.

Ask Before You Touch

There was a new mom at therapy today. Not new as in "new to autism"- new as in "baby is nine days old." Her older child was in therapy, but she had teh brand-new baby with her. Andy likes babies. Joey LOVES babies. And this was a teeny-tiny, brand-new baby with big eyes and headfuzz, and mom still very round and new-mom looking.

The boys were very good. They washed their hands, and only touched the baby on her head to feel the soft babyhair. They smiled and giggled and made faces at the baby, and didn't get in her face. Joey talked about the baby being little, the baby was awake, the baby was soft, and said he liked babies. He turned to Mom, and talked to her about the baby. Very nice social moment.

Then he reached out with one finger an proclaimed, "I want to touch the booby!" and gave her very round breast a stroke with his finger. Then he was off to another point of interest in the room, leaving me, the Mom, the office manager, and a couple other moms in a moment of speechless awe.

I must say, the Mom was an absolute sport about it, very gracefully not saying anything. The office manager just abotu died on the spot trying not to laugh. I initially thought he intended to say "baby" and only touched the Mom because he remember he wasn't supposed to touch the baby, but apparently everybody else thought it was quite clear.

I wonder where he's picked that up. He often likes to touch peole, especially on exposed lower arms, but I've never had him do this before. I've been trying to teach him to ask before touching someone, and I honestly think he was trying to do just that by making the announcement that split second before acting. Now we just need to go back to just arms, please. Thanks.

No quacks

New t-shirt design. Thought it might be a good thing to spread around.

That ducky place in C-ville is calling. I guess they need some more business. Not enough suckers going in and giving them their life savings to fix their kid. Caller ID is my friend.

New Shoes

Joey isn't feeling very well. I got the hint this afternoon after church, when we went to buy shoes.

This weekend is Virginia's "tax-free weekend." That means we instantly save 5% on everything we buy for school- supplies, clothes, shoes, etc. That may not seem like a lot of money, but around here, every little bit helps. And when shoes cost $50 a pair (holy frijoles!), and you've got two of them who are going to need shoes, that's a quick $5, before we start on anything else they need. So off to the shoe store we go.

Both boys have extra-wide feet, so the selection is limited where-ever we go. Walmart shoes don't fit them at all. Nope. We have to go to the $50 shoe store to get shoes on these feet. Great. And we still have all of two pairs to choose from. Fortunately, both are velcro. Joey picks out a pair that have those flashy lights in the heels. Good- those are the cheaper of the two pairs. Andy picks dark ones over light ones. Fine- we won't see them get dirty as quickly. Done. Let's get out of this madhouse of running, screeching children before I have two meltdowns on my hands.

Then Joey decides he wants to wear his new shoes out of the store. Nevermind that they are for regular school- a month away- and have already been boxed back up and bagged. He wants those shoes. Now.

Of course, it's really a problem of the noise, the heat, the change of schedule, the heat, the unfamiliar store, the heat, being tired, and of course, the heat. This is not about shoes at all. The store folks are very nice, and they know Joey, and they know about the autism, so as he begins the spiral into meltdown, they do their best to hurry things along to get me out the door... but it's too late. In his frustration, Joey bit me.

The biting is new- at least the biting of other people. He's picked it up from Andy, and I have no clue where Andy got it. Andy will do it if he feels in immediate danger or extreme annoyance, such as another child trying to snatch something from him. Joey does it with deliberation and thought. You can see the wheels turn and the decision being made, that half a beat of deliberate-ness that makes the whole mess seem that much more not a failure on his part, but a failure on mine. Somehow, I have permitted, and reinforced, this as an appropriate tool to get what he wants, or make himself "feel better" (I doubt he actually feels better for doing this, but before the action is done, it seems like a good idea to try it, if you know what I mean. Kind of like on a sunny day, it may seem like a great idea to go to the beach, until you realize the sand is burning your feet, the sun is burning your skin, and you forgot to bring sunglasses.) What's worse is I feel I have never tolerated this behavior. This is an instant-reprocussion situation. The full shop of parents glare at me as I pick up my 70-odd pound screaming child, toss him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, take his smaller brother by the hand, and march out of the store to the van.

I'm sure I'll get lots of wonderful critiques about that. Did picking him up and/or removing him reinforce the behavior? Should I have allowed him to melt down right there in front of the door? Is a time-out in a van really going to help? How does one correct such behavior, and what behavior can one expect of an overwhelmed 5-year-old?

And here is how I saw it: I made the mistake of trying to get the shoes on a day the store was crowded, the five bucks be damned. Once the mistake was made and the consequence in full swing, the appropriate course of action was to remove the child so that he could regain control and calm. Strapped into a car seat with the A/C going was the only option I really had available. There was no way, once Joey realized he had actually bitten me, that he was going to walk out of that store on his own two feet- the next action was going to be complete puddle of child, because meltdown was complete- about a level 4, if you leave the bite out of the calculation. But definitely meltdown- he was no longer functional. All my fault. I'm the stupid person who tried to take him into the crowded store to buy shoes, remember. On the hottest day of the year, no less.

I'd go into what one should expect from an overwhelmed five-year-old, but I didn't like the hate mail I got last time, so I won't. (I got the gambit from "How dare you think/wish this child should behave any differently than he does?" to "How dare you let him behave that way?") I will say that these are the realities here. Five dollars may not seem a lot, but it is a week's worth of breakfasts. Five dollars is an extra t-shirt for school. Five dollars is 10 minutes of speech therapy (thank you, insurance, for finally kicking in!) Five dollars is a trip to the pumpkin patch. Five dollars is milk for the week. How many crowded stores have we been in, and out of, and not had a single whine from Joey? Hindsight is 20/20- better, when you find yourself constantly judged and found wanting.

Which brings me back to the beginning of this ramble, which is that Joey is not feeling well, and I know this because our trip to the shoe store ended in meltdown. We've been having more of those than usual, but not more than usual for summer, does that make sense? Anyway, they still can be those first little inklings of trouble. I wouldn't say he was grumpy the rest of the day, no more than usual on long car rides (we went to pet goats in Madison), but he wasn't right. Sure enough, we put him to bed early with a little fever. Poor little guy.

Hair cut

This week, I cut off my hair.

This may not seem like a big deal to most folks. After all, it's hair. Hair grows. Hair gets cut. It is the way of things.

But here, my hair cutting is an event worthy of blogging. For one, the last time it happened, Andy was a babe in arms. Three years ago- my life was so completely different, the only thing I can say is, way back in that other life, there was time to get a hair cut.

For two, my boys accepted the change without a hitch. There was a time when cutting my hair- a sudden change in appearance- would have been very upsetting to Joey. He still gets excited if he catches me with my hair down, like when I brush it in the morning, or if I need to fix and replait it during the day. It's different, Mommy looks funny with all that hair everywhere. Andy thinks its funny, too- especially playing peek-a-boo with Cousin It.

And finally, there's something odd about going from hair to your butt to hair only to your shoulder. It now only takes me three minutes to shampoo my hair. Weird.

It has to be done occasionally, mind you. Otherwise the weight pulls it out, and at my age, hair loss can be permanent. Also, it tends to get a little frayed, since I don't have time to take care of butt-length hair properly.

And hey, even with trimming up the ends, I have twelve inches to send to Locks of Love!

Small Bites

We have more new foods this week! Joey ate a ham and cheese sandwich- with proper bites- for his OT this week, and he will also eat fresh peppers, sliced up! We are SO excited! Perhaps we have turned a corner with oral sensory issues? Could we be seeing real progress for healthy eating?

Joey's new "thing" is sharks. He saw some prehistoric ones at the museum, and then the prizes this week at OT have been sharks, and he's hooked. Add a new love of Finding Nemo, and bingo! Boy finds new obsession. With plenty of teeth.

On the other hand, we've also added a new biting issue- the boys have decided to bite each other when angry. Joey already bites his hands and clothes if he gets frustrated, but this biting other people thing- not good. We'll keep you posted.

Random Moments

It's three am. There is a low noise down the hall that threatens to turn into a scream, so I roll out of bed to intervene. It's Andy. It's almost always Andy these days. Apparently the bad dream involves something with Joey, and he wants brother. I left brother fast asleep in my room, sprawled on Allan's big recliner (unreclined). I manage to diffuse the problem. I return to find my half of the bed filled with boy. I give him a kiss, then waddle over to the other side, where I do the same for the handsome man I married, who is also fast asleep, cuddled with said boy. I get in the recliner, recline it, and try to go back to sleep.


It's mid-afternoon, another day in the waiting rooms of the therapy clinic. Our speech therapist has taken pity on Andy. He likes to play with one of those plastic dollhouses they use for teaching social skills and household words and stuff to kids. She isn't using it today, so she's put it out on the lobby floor for Andy. He's stretched out on his tummy, in the middle of the carpet, playing his littleheart out, sucking on a lollipop he "won" by having dry pants and going potty like a big boy. The house is inhabited by two "baby" dinosaurs. The peace is broken by a crunching noise, and the stick emerges from his mouth, devoid of candy, so that he can say: "Mommy! Need the potty!!!"


The lull in activities before dinner. Two boys are clomping through the house in my shoes, round and round from kitchen to diningroom to livingroom to hall to kitchen, around and around. One has them on the wrong feet. They are also screeching, and hanging their arms, reminiscent of gorillas in Danskos. I realize they are actually both T. Rexes in Danskos.


Morning again. I've managed to retain my space in bed. A soft little hand touches my face. Then little lips find mine. Yes, the boy is up. Suddenly, a small body crashes atop mine with a wild giggle. Yep, the other one is up, too. Now four sets of little fingers are poking, wiggling, trying to tickle me. Get up, Mom! It's time to PLAY!!!


The big yellow bus chugs up the street, sighs and squeaks to a halt in front of the house. I head down the porch steps, admiring the way Joey can now step off the bus and come to me, instead of me having to go fetch him from the bus door. He turns and waves as the bus pulls away, with likely the last words I will hear from him for the next hour: "Bye, bus! See you tomorrow!"


Sometimes, one must stop and admire the normalcy.

Dinosaurs (Act II)

We headed north again today, and spent the afternoon with the dinosaurs in the Museum of Natural History. I was kind of expecting them to hot-foot it in to the big dinosaur hall and spend most of the time there. I was surprised by side halls.

If you have never been to DC, and never seen the dinosaur exhibit (or not recently), then you're probably saying "Wha?" so let me take a little detour for you. The Museum of Natural History has changed dramatically from when I was young and wandering along the halls. For one, most of the exhibits have been scrubbed to unmerciful and character-less sterility, or tossed altogether. All of the exhibits my great-uncle Watson set up are gone, so that none of the animals in the mammal hall have any sense of habitat or context, the stuffed examples are stuck on glass shelves in glass cases. Being in the art business, this is exactly what most art and cultural museums are trying NOT to do. Why it has become fashionable in the curating of natural history, I haven't the slightest clue. Anyway, the dinosaurs have been partly spared this catastrophe, and whomever was in charge of scrubbing at least, for the most part, understood the idea of context and why it is important. The old hall retains interest. It is split into four main sections, three halls backed by a fourth. The three halls have ancient oceans and ancient forests flanking the main dinosaur hall, and then in teh back are the ancient mammals. A new cafe has been set at the far end of the dinosaur hall. The big fossil bone collection- things like brachiosaurs, tyrannosaurus rex, triceratops, stegasaurus, etc.- are in that middle main hall, will a very high ceiling (and a loft area for pterosaurs). The Oceans and Forests halls flank this main exihibit, but are seperated by walls, and have lower ceilings; so you can sometimes glimpse into the great dinosaurs from the side halls, but mostly, they are seperate exihibits with more carpetting and fewer echoes.

Another difference from when I was a kid is the sheer crush of people. When I was young, you could walk into the museum on a Sunday afternoon and have the place almost to yourself. Just not a popular day to go museum-hopping. Now, there is never a dull moment there. The crush of humanity is incredible. With the crush of human life comes the noise. Now add the echoes. It is enough to make me frantic. You can imagine what this is like for my guys.

The side halls, however, do not have the echo, or the draw. It still is crowded, but not the great, noisy, echo-y crush of the main dinosaur hall. To my surprise, despite the draw of t-rex and allosaurs, the boys made for the side halls. Quieter. Softer surroundings. Movies about fish mouths being made for sucking in worms. This is where they chose to spend the majority of their visit.

Yes, we did go out and say hello to the bones I consider old friends. My brother used to love the pteradactyls, hovering overhead, running up the stairs and reaching to as if we could touch them. Brachosaurus arching over the walkway, so it towered over you, the empty sockets gazing into space as if back to its flesh, long lost to time. But we spent most of the time exploring the world of the ammonites, the mosasaurs, and ancient mudpuppies.

These boys have a talent for finding what makes them comfortable. This is a good thing.

Initiating

Every Saturday, Joey and I head over to the church to listen to the music. There is a little band that plays contemporary Christian music for the Saturday service, and Joey likes to watch the drums and the guitars and whatnot. We practice some signs and some social skills and that sort of thing, but we usually scoot out before the sermon- sitting still through someone else talking is not Joey's forté.

There is a lady who has taken a liking to Joey. She's an older lady with not the best health, but plenty of smiles. She is very tolerant of Joey pleying with her jewelry, and one week she even brought in a puppet to play with him.

Before the muic starts, Joey usually spents the time running up and down the aisles, tracking the pews. Since this is what he does to make himself comfortable, no one is really there yet, and it isn't hurting anybody, I don't curtail this much. What five-year-old doesn't relish his first little tastes of freedom from Mom? He also hands out hugs to church members who ask for them as they wander in, like the pastor, and his friend, and the Sunday School director. When the first note strikes, he settles next to me for the music.

Yesterday, we were doin our usual wandering, when he saw his friend in the vestibule. We were at the front, and he caught sight of her- and made a beeline to her, said, "Hi!" and gave her a big hug! Then he stayed to say things like, "How are you?" Scripted, but appropriate, and self-initiated!

She hadn't called him over to her. She didn't ask the questions first. This was all on his own!

Yes, we're coming right along here in our little corner of the world.

Life is Good.

More reminders that Life Is Good:

I have a quilt on my bed that has sealife on it. The boys have decided it is a "pool" and they are "whales"- and dive on.
Signing the entire alphabet with Joey singing the ABC song.
Andy's eyes when he gets a new dinosaur- even though he has more than I can readily count.
The squeals of joy when you hit I-95 and announce, "Let's go on an adventure!" They just know they are going someplace good.
Listening to Allan singing the goodnight song he made up himself, just for his boys.
Andy chasing kitties.
Baking cookies- Andy and Joey like to take turns putting the cookies on the sheets and squishing them flat. (Next step: getting them to roll the balls!)
Joey reading the clock and then saying, "what comes next?" And when you answer, he says, with all enthusiasm, "You're RIGHT! Good job!"
Asking Joey what comes next at 12:59, and he says, "One o'clock!"
Swimming with boys as they run through sprinklers.
Andy asking for one more hug. One more kiss. One more story?