Staying Home... and Loving It

Judy and the Gorgons

2012-01-10T15:53:00.001-06:00

I spent the morning of January 7th searching my Facebook friend list for Old Calender Orthodox, to wish them a Merry Christmas. If you're unfamiliar with the Old Calendar vs New Calendar thing, look up the Julian and Gregorian calendars on Wikipedia - a number of Orthodox churches still use the Julian (I think the majority), which means most feasts, including Christmas, are thirteen days apart, though Easter (Pascha) is celebrated on the same day (not the same day as the Western churches necessarily, but all Orthodox celebrate together). So anyhow, I mentioned to Husband what I was doing, while Kittyboy was in the room.
Of course, the boy's favorite word is WHY.
He has since been talking about the "Judy-an and Gorgon" calendars. He wanted to know why we aren't Old Calendar too (because the Greek churches and I think some others use the New/Gregorian Calendar). He wanted to know, if Christmas were January 7th, what would December 25th be? He must have asked that four times, to which I answered "just December 25th", or "still in Advent" before I asked, "Do you mean what feast or saint would it be?" He said yes. Naturally. I told him I'd figure it out. I still need to sit down with a calendar, count thirteen days back from December 25th, and see who's commemorated on that day. (Wait, I will do that NOW... Okay, Dec. 12th is St. Spyridon. I'll tell him after his nap.)
So now he wants to follow the "Judy-an" Calendar. And no, it's not to have two Christmases, that didn't even occur to him - he wants to go OC because "that would be COOL." Have to get him an OC church calendar so he can see both. There's a Russian church a few towns south of here, I can probably buy one there.
I absolutely love that he wants to follow the Old Calendar now. We won't be, because St. Anthony's is New Calendar, but I love his enthusiasm. Granted, we don't want him enthusiastically jumping into things SOLELY on the basis of "it's different and new, and that makes it cool!" But, I just have to like the flippant disregard for peer pressure. Who cares when everyone else celebrates Christmas. I'm reminded of my brother, who wore a beard throughout high school because 1) he COULD, and 2) no one else had one. Not all that is "different" is good, but approval by the majority doesn't make something good, either!
So I'll get him his Old/Julian church calendar, and he can hang it next to his New/Gregorian one, and heaven help me when he wants more details on WHY there are two.

posted from Bloggeroid

Kittyboy and Housework

2011-11-08T16:35:00.001-06:00

I'd already been teaching Kittyboy how to load silverware in the dishwasher, and put it away when it's clean. He also could gather his laundry, and put away his clean clothes (the putting away, sorta kinda).
Well, now he does a lot more. He can gather his laundry and the bathroom laundry in one hamper, and dump that hamper into the washing machine. He can empty the dryer into a basket and bring me the basket. He can sort out his clothing from everything else. He even can SORT OF can fold his own clothing.
I had been thinking to teach him the microwave. It's on his level, and I could tell him a few minutes before getting up to start dinner, "Please put two potatoes in for so many minutes," that kind of thing - then I thought good and hard about how much easier DON'T TOUCH is than "Touch only when/how I tell you to." Now, I've had him stir at the stove before, but the radiating heat is an un-ignorable reminder to take care, and the microwave would appear deceptively safe by comparison, and that could lead to carelessness. He's good at stirring, and careful. And were I to put a pan on the stove for soup, sit at the table chopping ingrediants, and have him on a chair putting what I chop into the pan, I'm still the one setting up, turning on the stove, and he can't reach the burner controls. Letting him add and stir, that doesn't remove a Flat-Out Prohibition on anything. But the microwave.......... A little knowlege could be a disastrous thing. No microwave yet.
But he could sweep, at least spot-sweep with a dust broom. He's learning how to load dishes other that silverware, and a few days ago, insisted that he could put in the soap - "Oh, let me, let me!" as he ran to get the box. I helped. Had he been a puppy, he would have been wagging his tail!
I'm guessing four is an age where being a Big Helper is REALLY fun, and it's not so much "work". That would make this the perfect age to train!
And he's plenty strong enough to haul a full (and full-size) clothes hamper, lift his half-size one over his head to dump in the washer, and carry garbage bags to the front door. May as well use those muscles to the max!

posted from Bloggeroid

An update, after a long absence

2011-11-07T19:54:00.001-06:00

So! The-Little-Fetus-That-Could, still IS. 22 weeks and counting. I am resting, resting, resting, and taking my blood pressure, which has been generally above "wonderful" but comfortably below "call the office". What the chances are of "Kittyboy all over again" (28 weeks, HELLP drama) depends on which doctor is looking at me, I think, which is either annoying or amusing, depending on my mood. My regular ob-gyn, Dr. Z, was pretty much happy with the way things were going, the many tests all came back at least acceptable, and apart from one little incident that involved a couple hours of having my BP monitored and a pre-eclamptic panel run on a Saturday afternoon, it all seemed fine. Except, to me, it seemed something, somewhere, somehow, was less than fine. Just little nagging oddities - the stairs at church seemed to put me out of breath, a walk that was normal in the first trimester would leave me exhausted the next day. I wasn't nesting, I was tired. I would sit for a moment and feel my limbs, back, and trunk muscles all give a great sigh of relief, and not after a day of work either. And the incident that sent me to the hospital for blood testing and blood pressure checking was exceedingly weird, sudden hand-swelling, out of the blue, 9 a.m., so that my fingers tingled and hands felt weird to close.
We have a pregnancy helpline through our insurance, and I must say, whatever Husband's employer is paying is worth every penny.
So I had just decided last week that at my next appointment with Dr. Z, I would mention, "So I know the tests have all been fine, but I just think something's not necessarily fine..." It's like when something, somewhere in the kitchen, is juuuuuuuust starting to go, not bad, but "off". All you know is that sometimes, at the sink - or is it closer to the garbage can? - you just get this whiff of something. But the garbage is out, the sink is clean, and then, darn it, just caught another whiff. What the heck? Am I smelling things?.... It was like that.
Then Monday, I had a sono appointment. Not seeing Dr. Z, just checking on Baby. Everything seemed good, tech mentioned she (baby's a she) was a little small, but neither of Baby's parents come from tall families. Then the nurse said "the doctor" would come in and talk with us.
Dr. T, whom we'd not met before, is a high-risk pregnancy doctor. I think she and Dr. Z have to compare notes (haha) because she's not at all convinced all's well. According to HER, the chances of Kittyboy-all-over-again could be 25-50%. She said I would be getting a blood pressure cuff for home. Aye aye, Cap'n T. She asked if I was taking baby aspirin. Um, nope, no one said to, but I will now. I took a big breath and said, "Okay. Blood pressure cuff, baby aspirin. What else, what do we DO?" She paused a second and said, "Well, there's really nothing you CAN do, if it's going to happen."
She did add that modified bed rest might help.

I've since calmed down, reassessed what exactly she SAID, not what my pessimist brain HEARD (which of course was the worst of all possibilities) and taken this as doctor's orders to take my body very, very seriously. I lay down enough throughout the day that when I have been up and lay BACK down, there is no release-of-tension, sigh-of-relief feeling, because if there were, it would mean I should have ALREADY been down. And laying down to that extent has amounted to partial/modified bed rest. I avoid ANYTHING that makes me have to breathe like I've been running, which means very slow on stairs, as few as possible (we live in a one-story house, I only take stairs at church), I sit whenever I'm not doing something (and all through church, basically), and Kittyboy is learning a great many household tasks.
But THAT is a story for another day... Kittyboy doing housework is a post all its own...

posted from Bloggeroid

The Little Embryo That Could

2011-07-21T16:30:00.000-05:00

(We think you can! We think you can! We think you can!)

In March of last year, I went for a first sonogram at eight weeks pregnant, and the baby had no heartbeat. Not to be flippant, but a generally unpleasant and distressing experience I really didn't want to repeat. Now, to our joy/disbelief, I'm finally pregnant again.
We got a sonogram at 6.5 weeks this time - juuuussst wanted to see that heartbeat for real, before I got excited. Maybe that's morbid, but, well...
We have a heartbeat! Baby measures six weeks, five days! Heartbeat 114 bpm!
The sucky part is, we have four weeks until our next heartbeat-listening-to. I am going to be counting down the days. Basically, if all our tests come back good (already know my progesterone is right where it should be, that's one concern taken care of), there's really nothing that can be done any differently than before. Assuming no abnormalities with hormone levels or anything else, first trimester miscarriages can still "just happen". We're being calm but vigilant. There's only so much you can do. Although, thanks to my history with Kittyboy, things will get very different about 20 weeks. I don't know the details, but that's what the doctor said. And of course, to contact them if anything is unusual.
Is it me, or is it some kind of cruel joke, to say, "Oh, but don't stress about it! Stress is bad for the baby!" Because while I understand that to be completely true - do I need something ELSE to stress about? So I can stress about not stressing about something stressful, because if I stress about the stressful thing, the stress alone could cause said stressful thing to occur just because I stressed about it?
So! Not stressing - overly much! Holding on tightly, in my head, to my progesterone results! Counting days! Calling it The Little Embryo That Could (thanks to my friend Carey for that lovely and optimistic title!)!
33 days from yesterday, so 32 days to go!
And may Kittyboy's angels watch over his sibling in the meantime.

Homemade yogurt

2011-07-19T12:17:00.003-05:00

Last week, I had some milk in the fridge that needed using, so I decided I'd try what I'd been thinking about for a while - making yogurt. I did have plain yogurt in the fridge, and all I knew about yogurt making is that you put a little plain yogurt in, and the milk should just do it all by itself.
But given that there's such a thing as a "yogurt maker", and people talk about using crock pots and heating pads and whatnot, I went looking for directions. The first site I found was http://makeyourownyogurt.com/
I didn't have a big enough double boiler - I didn't have a crock pot - but I did have a thermometer!
I put a quart jar's worth of milk in a pan, heated while stirring constantly, and I mean CONSTANTLY, and took the temp every few minutes. At one point, Kittyboy got himself assigned to stir, while I hunted for a better food thermometer. And he did stand there quite responsibly, never stopped stirring, and at no point did he stick his fingers on the edge of the pan, into the heating milk, or on the burner (all of which he was sternly and repeatedly warned about beforehand). He can be a good helper when he wants.
Finally, after oh, forty-five minutes or so of stirring over a hot stove, it was heated to 180. I put the pan in a sink of cold water and stirred until it was just down to 110, stirred in a good-sized dollop of plain yogurt, and for lack of any means of keeping it warm, just covered the pan and set it back on the stove on the turned-off-but-still-warm burner. I figured, people have made this for centuries without necessarily a means of keeping it evenly and consistently warm - a crock pot or heating pad might make it take only 7 hours, but maybe I could just leave it for longer, like 24?
After eight hours or so, before I went to bed that night, I peeked. Hmmm - smelled like spoiling milk. I figured it was going to be a learning experience and went to bed.
The next morning - creamy white yogurt!! There was no whey to stir back in, the texture was even, it was perfect! It's whiter than store-bought, which I thought was funny, too. It worked great! Next time, I'm going to leave it longer to get thicker. This time, I was just so thrilled to have yogurt that I just jarred it up right then.
So far, I've twice made a bowl of homemade ranch dip for carrots, and used it as a base for beef and noodles. It goes well in place of sour cream, too.
Anyone have any good yogurt recipes to share?

Randomness...

2011-07-04T15:40:00.000-05:00

I am loving my new knee braces!! In the last five days, I have dug several two rows of the expansion to my flower garden, planted a rose, put the sod from the expansion in my wheelbarrow, planted more plants, caged the maybe-cucumbers unknown-squash-vines in the big garden, and spread more cardboard in the garden. I even weeded! I had a LONG list of yard projects waiting for these braces to come in. The tomatoes need tying too, though it may be too late - they've grown all funky and weird along the ground.

Kittyboy informed me a few days ago that he had been sitting in his room, reading a book. To himself. I wonder how long it will be before the I Can Read books no longer interest him. He was looking at his globe last week and said, "Rrrrussian. This says Russian!" I said, without looking up, "RussIA. It says Russia." He murmured thoughtfully, "Russia... but there is an N." "What?" Oooops, forgot the age of his globe - Russian Soviet Federated Socialist Republic. "By golly that does say Russian! Good job!"

We've been using interstate travel to do math. If we're passing exit 264 and we need exit 267, how many miles are we from our exit? That question is best phrased "What is the difference between 4 and 7?" and to my surprise, he gets it right half the time.

Kittyboy had his first dramatic nosebleed today - he came to me with his hand out, asking, "What is this?" Red smeared all over his hand and face. Nothing hurt, so he didn't even know it was blood. I asked if he had hit his head. "No." Hit his nose? "No." Hit, bumped, fallen down in any way? "No." Deep breath. Did he stick anything IN his nose? "No." I ran through the possibilities remaining - the air isn't dry, his sinuses haven't been running... couldn't think of anything else. Hmm. Well, it's been tough to keep him from sticking his fingers in his nose. Had he been scratching inside his nose? "Oh, yes." SIGH. And had the blood started coming out after he was scratching his nose? "Um, yes." Aaaahhhhhh. Well, YAY for not needing a doctor on the FOURTH OF JULY, because up to that point I was out of guesses, and spontaneous nosebleeds for no apparent reason are not generally a good thing. I told him that a) a finger qualifies as "anything", and b) here's another reason to keep your finger OUT OF YOUR NOSE. Delicate tissues, capillaries, etc... the fact that your fingernails are filthy...

We'll be hauling him out of bed about 8:30 tonight to go downtown for fireworks. I'm hoping to coax him into bed about 6, 6:30, which probably means we'll have to skip the nap. Or start the nap at 5, and then he probably would have been awake until after 9 anyway.

Happy Independence Day, everyone!

"Like the sky. But different."

2011-06-29T13:46:00.002-05:00

Kittyboy randomly spouted, this morning, "I saw there were angels! They were circling up over my bed. And God was standing next to my bed!"
"........? And when was this?"
"Oh, at night!"
"What night?"
"The night before this morning!"
"...And what did the angels look like?"
"Oh, I don't know! Like angels! They had wings on them!"
"What color were the angels?"
"Oh, I don't know. I think blue. Or green."
"........And what does God look like?"
"Um - I do not know! He is Our God!"
(as opposed to someone else's? huh?)
"He looked like the sky! [could have been 'He looked up like the sky'] But different."
"So God looks like the sky. But different."
"Yes!" Nodding emphatically, driving his car.
"Were you dreaming?"
"Oh yes, I was dreaming about my globe! The one that I found in the gift shop!" (a $400 inlaid stone globe he found at the Sheels gift shop)
"Were you dreaming about God? Or angels?"
"Um, no. God was just standing, next to my bed, and the angels were just circling."

I like the description of God as looking "like the sky, but different." How interesting...

The No-Good, Very Bad Day

2011-03-27T20:34:00.001-05:00

It started with Husband being ill with sinuses, and Kittyboy and I scurrying out the door without him, fifteen minutes late to church. As soon as we got there, I sent him to the bathroom, to forestall the five-minutes-in, "I have to go on the toilet!" hassle, since I knew I'd be in front reading. Ten minutes later, "I have to go on the toilet!" We went to the bathroom and then I said we'd just sit in a pew, because it would be disruptive for the both of us to go traipsing back up, and the other two chanters would be more than fine. Kittyboy wasn't happy. He spent the rest of Orthros bugging me about when Sunday School would start, and wanting to lay on the pew and kick his feet. Finally it was 10 and I sent him to Sunday School. One of the benefits, for me, of him being in Sunday School, is that I can sing in the choir. The Sunday School class came in right before the Gospel reading - and Kittyboy started whining for me. And whining. And whining. Finally the teacher let him go up to me in the choir. He wasn't too much happier in the choir - he kept asking me if it was time for Communion, and arguing when I said no. He sat on the floor. He fiddled with the power cord for the organ. He whined that there was no pew. He tried to get under the organ bench. He asked if it was Communion again. He required that I hold a book for him to follow, and sang a little, but then when he wanted to flip pages, I took it away. This did not please him. We had a quiet discussion concerning the fact that I wasn't holding the book for him to play with it, and if he didn't want to follow along, no book. We tried the book again. (By now you've gotten a fair picture of how church went, it was pretty much that)
Finally it was time for Communion! And after that, we went downstairs to discuss, not so quietly, the fact that he cannot be in the choir if he's going to disrupt the choir and prevent me from singing, and if he can't sit with his class, he just won't go to Sunday School, and we will sit in the pew the entire service.
Today was the feast of the Elevation of the Cross, and I had intended to keep Kittyboy downstairs just until the procession and then zip back up just for that. I miscalculated - and Father did the procession before the end of church - and we missed it. I love Soson Kyrie, this is the day we sing that a lot, didn't get to sing it. Not pleased.
When we got home, he was VERY due for a nap. I went to put him in bed, and his sheets were wet. I eyed the humidifier, and sniffed them - NOT wet from the humidifier. He gets out of bed himself in the morning, and he wears a pull-up overnight, so gee, it had not occurred to me to check whether he had completely soaked his bed! I still haven't figured out what happened. All bedding needed to be washed - and his weighted Toy Story blanket was washed just two or three days ago. It takes a while to dry, too. I couldn't believe it. This nap was now going to be delayed by 2-3 hours.
Can't get worse, right?
After this on top of our problems at church, I was Severely Displeased. Then - I carried everything to the laundry room and found the washer full. The dryer was full. What was in the washer was clean and needed drying, so I couldn't toss it back in the hamper. But what was in the dryer, wasn't quite dry. I had to restart the dryer, wait for it to dry, switch out loads, THEN I could start the load on which hinged the very fate of the world, or at least of my afternoon.
Kittyboy started saying he was hungry. He had a bunch of fruit and sweet breads at coffee hour, but being still awake, he was hungry again. This was when I discovered that the rice and vegetables he'd had for breakfast - because they were from dinner last night - which he still hadn't finished for breakfast because we were running late - were still sitting out on the table, four hours later. We'd been in such a rush this morning, I'd not put them away. Well, they were garbage now. Gave him a bunch of grapes. Seriously, he ate a LOT at coffee hour, and he usually has a bird's appetite. I've never fixed lunch after church. He spent the laundry time being, well, tired four-year-old in need of nap. Fun times. Whining, "I want to boouuunce!" I put down his trampoline - in the hallway, because his room's a disaster and I was folding laundry in the front room and the hallway was where I had room. "But I want it in theeerrrree!" My response was less than gracious. Emptied the dryer as soon as the washer stopped, tossed the still-wet things on a table, put The Load of Loads in the dryer. 3:30 in the afternoon, I was finally making Kittyboy's bed. Got it made despite his "help", got him in it, then had to take off and put back on his covers. They were in the wrong order. Not kidding. FINALLY tucked him in to his exacting standards, and I turned on his music.
"Oh, but IIIII wanted to start it!"
Are you kidding me?
Fine. Whatever. I was done. I told him to start the music himself if that was what he wanted, and tuck himself back in. Couple minutes later, crying that it wouldn't play - I went back in. He'd pressed the play button twice, pausing it. I started it for him. I tucked him back in.
Then he began to say that he was still hungry.
I wanted to scream. Husband was up. I gave him a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and charge of the Kittyboy, because I was VERY MUCH DONE.
And I did the mature, grown-up, mommy thing of hiding in my bedroom.
After his nap, Kittyboy came looking for me. He came in the room, flung his arms wide, and declared, "Mommy, I like you a lot!"
Aww. I told him I loved him, and asked why he'd come looking for me. "I am happy to have you!" That translates, "I want you to be with me!" Awww! I asked him, "Even when I'm cranky and grumpy and yell a whole lot?" And he climbed up in my lap and said quite sincerely, "Yes! When you yell, God forgives you!"
Aaawwww! I take that to mean we're friends again!

posted from Bloggeroid

Homecoming Anniversary

2011-03-23T13:35:00.001-05:00

We were at the doctor's this morning, just checking on the seasonal sinuses, and Kittyboy wanted me to read him his wristband. He is learning to read, and wants to know what everything says. I saw the date, 3-23, and told him that FOUR YEARS AGO TODAY, he came home from the hospital!
It was a Friday, the 5th Friday of Lent that year. I know that because that night, he was churched after the 5th Akathist service. Between the hospital and home, we stopped at Target, because there was something the nursery still needed - I want to say it was a lamp. I didn't know what to do with a baby in car seat and a shopping cart, and didn't know that car seats fit onto carts, so Husband pushed the cart and I carried Kittyboy in my arms. When we got home, my first phone call after the initial "HE'S HOME! HE'S REALLY HERE!" flurry of calls was to my mother - "Um, Mommy? How do you go to the bathroom with a baby?" And I was shocked when she said, "Oh, you just take him in with you!" But Mother! He's a boy! "Yes dear, but he's a baby. It really doesn't matter!" The second "What do we do...?" question was to NICU the very next morning - "And WHY is it that we are setting an alarm all night and waking a sleeping baby for feeding?" "Oh, because preemies don't always wake when they're hungry." Ah. O...kay.
And it was so weird to have him be really all ours.
He went to church that night, that Sunday, the next week which was Palm Sunday, and we were thinking what we should do about Holy Week and the deluge of services. We'd always gone to all of them before. We decided to take him Palm Sunday evening, Monday through Wednesday, and then start keeping him home Thursday when the crowds start. By Wednesday, we realized that nowhere was he calmer and more quietly content than in church. We continued taking him to all the services, all Holy Week, and he was perfectly happy.

posted from Bloggeroid

The Virtue of Practice

2011-03-21T23:28:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was lovely, in the 70s, and the Kittyboy and I went outside. The neighbor boy was out on his bicycle - the boy who's six months younger but about two sizes bigger. It's been fascinating watching him and Kittyboy develop, because since KB was three months early, they're essentially three months apart, and each has done things earlier than the other. I remember being flabbergasted at "Bobby" kicking a ball up and down the street, when Kittyboy was just getting really good at walking. Bobby was big, sturdy, and RUNNING. But when he was running after the sorta-jogging Kittyboy that summer, and the first went up and over a log easily, Bobby put one foot on the log, stopped, and looked at me. He needed a hand for balance.
Bobby potty-trained first. Kittyboy spoke more clearly, and drank from an open cup while Bobby was still fighting to keep his bottle. It's just so cool to watch, who will do what next?
So Bobby rides a little bike with training wheels (and was riding a tricycle last year). It stands to reason, like walking, running, and kicking a ball, it's one of those gross-motor things Bobby does well and with gusto. This spring is the first that Kittyboy's been able to reach the pedals on his tricycle, and he's tried out the pedaling process, but it's all new, and it's all WORK, so mostly he pushes the tricycle around himself.
Well, yesterday he was watching Bobby on that bicycle. Been trying to pedal the trike, but not really getting anywhere. I explained that Bobby's just a little bigger, he has longer legs, and so he's been pedaling since last year. Kittyboy's face drooped, and he said, "And I'm still widdle - wight?"
Ooooohhhhh! My poor baby! So sad!
I told him NO, he is exactly the size he is supposed to be, and everyone grows and develops at their own speeds, and a goodly part of it is practice, too - Bobby's been pedaling since a year ago, and the more you do something, the better you get at it, and the easier it is. That's how it works.
So Kittyboy watched a little more, and then he got back on his tricycle. And he pushed, and he grunted, and he pushed, and he made it the length of the driveway. And I cheered! And I told him that's practice, it just takes work! He got off and turned it around, and went back the other way. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. And he was getting up some speed the last couple times! Great progress for one afternoon - he just needed the motivation to keep at it for more than five minutes!
And since he's getting the pedaling motion down, Husband is going to put air in the tires of the tiny little bike with training wheels that has been waiting for a certain little boy to learn how to pedal it. It's his size, but he had to figure out pedaling before it'd be of any use. It should be a little easier, since he can push with all his weight over the pedals instead of having the pedals way out in front of him.
Yay for learning the virtue of practice!

posted from Bloggeroid

Someone told my garden it's Spring...

2011-03-21T14:57:00.001-05:00

posted from Bloggeroid

The Wonderful World of E-readers

2011-03-10T15:09:00.001-06:00

Husband surprised me yesterday with something I'd been thinking wistfully might be useful - an e-reader, specifically a Nook. I danced around squealing with excitement as he found church services online, put them in pdf format, and loaded them on, and he said, "I must have made your week - or month..." I said, "No, you made my LENT!!"
I have the complete Orthodox Study Bible. I have the Akathist service, in the translation I like, of which Father never has enough copies. Husband found the Hapgood text - the weekday festal services, such as Christmas Eve, New Year's, Theophany, and St. John the Baptist (just to randomly highlight the busiest two-week period of the year). I'm going to have him find text for the Holy Week services, so instead of a thick book in two hands, I can hold the Nook in one and corral a Kittyboy with the other. He has seriously made my Lent.
One advantage a book will ALWAYS have over an e-reader, however, is the ability to say, "It's around here somewhere," and flip through turning a chunk of pages at a time. As I get more comfortable with the mechanics of using it, though, there IS a function that lets you jump to any page of the book, so at some point, I'll be picturing the physical book and think, "Okay, jump fifty pages from here," and it'll be a very similar process with similar results. It will take practice, though.
I could even copy and paste a series of hymns and prayers into a text file, have Husband convert it to pdf, and put it on there. This is really pretty darn awesome!
Thank you, Dear!

posted from Bloggeroid

A long walk and talk...

2011-03-03T20:19:00.001-06:00

We walked to Salvation Army today, and next time we will be taking garbage bags. I think it must be a whole winter's worth of trash having been exposed by the vanished snow, because I do NOT remember the yards and bike trail being so... dump-looking. Bags and hand sanitizer going in my purse next week.
Kittyboy ate a tootsie roll, put the wrapper in his pocket like a good boy, then half a block later as he put acorns in that pocket, he discarded the wrapper in the grass! I about stopped breathing! He'd certainly NEVER seen myself, Husband, or any friends ever throw any trash on the ground! But then again, our surroundings DID suggest that was perfectly fine...
"The earth is the Lord's, and all its fullness, the world and those who dwell therein." Ps. 24:1
So we picked up the tootsie roll wrapper, discussed that verse, how disrespectful it would be of someone to come throw garbage all around our house, and that if the earth is the Lord's, then we shouldn't throw garbage around it either. And it just looks bad. I told him we'd bring bags the next time we walked.
At some point I used the term biodegradeable, and explained that it means "will turn to dirt". Somehow, from there, we got to dead animals - I think from me saying that dead organic matter was biodegradeable and explaining then what that was, plants, bugs, animals, whatever. So I think he asked about things turning into dirt, so I told him bugs and bacteria break things down, and there are animals and birds that also eat carrion. My little Munster was fascinated. (My brain kept asking, independent of my mouth, how we had gotten from cleaning up trash to discussing decomp and vultures?)
Then he picked up a brown leaf, we talked about chlorophyll, and how it keeps the leaves green and stops in fall. And that leaves also turn into dirt eventually. And dirt is what plants grow in, and animals eat the grass, and the carbon cycle. We'd read about the carbon cycle in his aunt's college ecology textbook.
I think that can be school for the day. Sound about right?

posted from Bloggeroid

Lovely Valentine's Day!

2011-02-14T19:53:00.001-06:00

The Kittyboy and I had a lovely day! Husband and I did Valentine's last night, and today, we babysat a precious little one-month-old boy for friends so they could have a luncheon date. Kittyboy now REALLY needs a sibling!
He gave Baby Mikey multiple drum recitals, occasionally using a maraca as a drumstick, taught Mikey how to play drums, shake a maraca, and pet Magic Cat (who was thrilled at having another baby around!), and played peekaboo until he was blue in the face. He fetched bottles from the fridge, put them back in the fridge, got things from the diaper bag, and showed great Big Brother instinct when Mikey was fussing because his bottle was still warming - ''Stop!... stop crying!... stop crying!... stop crying!'' He also learned that babies don't stop crying on his say-so.
We even had our first leeettle bit of jealousy - little bit. I was reading books to them, with Mikey on my lap, and Kittyboy asked after about the third book - ''I think you can read one to just me now?'' I think having a baby took more of his mommy than he anticipated!
But the benefits of having a baby friend around must have FAR outweighed having to share his mommy, because after Mikey went home, Kittyboy was sad! He held out his hands with a sorrowful look, and wailed, ''But I wanted to borrow him more!!'' I promised him we would do it again! He is tucked in bed with his own Baby (doll), and we will have to plan our next playdate!

posted from Bloggeroid

second try

2011-01-12T12:53:00.001-06:00

Okay, I like how Bloggeroid worked, but the way it told me to do bold and italic didn't work. Blogger-droid doesn't have any instructions with it, so trying basic HTML I remember from college...
bold italic

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

Trying out second app

2011-01-12T12:40:00.001-06:00

<b>bold</b>
<i>italic</i>
Trying out second app for blogging (Bloggeroid). Assuming the HTML does make the above words bold and italic, I may prefer this to Android Blogger.

Testing, 1 2 3 ...

2011-01-10T19:46:00.001-06:00

Trying out Blogger-droid, an Android blogging program. Husband has me test-driving an older-model Android phone, in search of the perfect PDA, because if we ever get internet at our house, I will ditch the data plan for a basic bar phone again, but still be addicted to all the PDA functions, and Husband the droid nut thinks this is the one for me. So far, the HTC Dream and I are getting along tolerably well, just trying out the blogging apps...

Published with Blogger-droid v1.6.5

And to my amazement, it works!

2010-10-04T09:12:00.002-05:00

Saturday morning, Kittyboy went to put his foot on the table during breakfast, and I told him no. Then I leaned over to him and said very solemnly - That's one.
He looked at me a little askance, looked down at his foot, and started to lift it again slowly. I told him no - and that's two.
He looked at me. He knew three came next. But what was up with counting right off the bat? And gee, Mommy sounded really serious. Did he want to find out what three was?
Apparently not, because he didn't do it again! (And three was going to be moving his chair back from the table).
It's a "duh!!" but when the counting starts the first time, rather than when the kid makes it apparent he's not going to do it unless you DO count, you get his attention a lot faster.

Massive improvement over "No feet on the table." "No feet on the table!" "Get your foot off the table!...1...2..." and he pulls it off right after two.

On the plus side...

2010-10-01T22:38:00.002-05:00

We're learning more about whatever Kittyboy's dairy issue might be. Thankfully, we have an appointment with a doctor Wednesday who might be able to sort this out.
Kittyboy was getting 1-2 (sometimes 3) servings a day of dairy, no more than that, and was doing fine. After a WEEK of that, however - backed up again. Soooo - still too much dairy? After a week. Very confusing. Everything I read and hear of actual "lactose intolerance" says the reaction should be immediate, within an hour or so. We had no clue, we just knew that for potty-training to stick, he absolutely had to be regular. Went back to no dairy, period. I went to County Market one late night, read labels on everything, and came home convinced our lives were over, because lactose is in sooooo many things. It's in the flavor packets in ramen, for crying out loud. RAMEN. To say nothing of bread and margarine. And soy cheese is SO expensive. I bought a package of slices figuring we'd try them out for grilled cheese, but to substitute in everything that formerly had cheese? At roughly 32 cents a slice? And he would LIVE on ramen if I let him. Chili Lime Shrimp is our favorite flavor. Has lactose. Chili - Lime - Shrimp. What about that sounds like it needed milk? But it's in there, read the package. I was not a happy camper that night.
In the reassuring light of day, however, the next morning, I remembered something very important. I didn't read labels when we did our experiment. All we did, ALL we did, was not give him milk or anything containing cheese. He had bread, he had ramen. And we got the wonderful result we did, without removing anything more than milk and cheese. Why would we read labels now? All we need is to get him regular.
So we went back to no dairy again, which is where we are now, and he's regular again and doing REALLY well with potty-training. We just don't understand what the problem actually IS. But at least we have it solved. And Wednesday, we can ask what the game plan is. What do we do first? I'm thinking dairy once a week. We won't even tell him, it'll just be real cheese instead of Tofutti (yes, goofy name, but hey, it melts and he likes it!) in his grilled cheese sandwich. Then twice a week, and so on, figure out what the threshold is. There has to be a threshold, it took a week building up before it was a problem again. Right now, we're doing NOTHING, because we don't want to try ANYTHING. We see the doc - we ask our questions - we make sure we know what we're doing. And in the meantime, we need a calcium supplement, because the soy milk is just not going down easily, and I question the importance of fighting over it if we don't actually have to. He's being such a good sport about the whole deal. When he became constipated again, we explained what was going on - gave a word to the reason why he was crying so much - and that we think it's milk and cheese that causes it, and so he's not going to have those. This morning, we offered him toast and jelly for a second course at breakfast (he has a heck of an appetite now!), and he asked for cream cheese instead. We exchanged the look of "Now it begins, poor thing", and said, "Honey, that's cheese, and it might make you constipated..." "Oh. Jelly." Just like that. Looking forward to straightening this out so he CAN have cheese again.

When you're ready to scream...

2010-10-01T22:01:00.002-05:00

... it's time to change your discipline tactics.
Kittyboy has taken to arguing every word I say. Every. Single. Word. And not just, "Okay, it's time for a nap now" followed by (tearfully) "It NOT time for a nap now!!" I was on the phone with my mom today and said something, I don't remember what, I think it was, "I'm so tired," and he immediately piped up, "No, I think you are NOT so tired."
This is called back-talk. Lip. Sass. Insolence. This would never have crossed my mind as a child, because the roof would have caved. I was not a model child myself by any means - I had a passive/aggressive strength of will you would not believe, and was probably the only child in kindergarten to already know the meaning of the term "insubordination" - but outright SASSING my parents? My mom and I argued plenty, but there were limits.
He's lost privileges, had things taken away, it's not worked. There has to be something swift and immediate, a system less forgiving, flexible, and easily played, than counting to three.
How about two chances to IMMEDIATELY comply, followed by consequence? This is what I found on 1-2-3 Autism Free. In Kittyboy's case, I say once no arguing, that's once. I say it twice, we have a consequence. I say once get out of that dirt while we're on a walk, that's once. I say it twice, we have a consequence.
I just need to find a consequence that could be consistent and work. This week has been horrible.

'Vapowation

2010-09-17T22:17:00.000-05:00

I have to say I'm already enjoying this homeschool thing. It's amazing how many things can be "school" if you make them so.
We walked to the store and back, and Kittyboy noticed his shadow. I pointed out that it's on the other side of him from where the sun is, and told him that's because a shadow is where something blocks the light. Then our shadows disappeared! And we talked about clouds and how they cast reeeeaaaaally big shadows that block the sun and then we don't have shadows because there's no sun. Then the clouds moved a little and we had fuzzy shadows and I told him that's from diffused light, when the light is coming through clouds. I don't break things down well much farther than that, so he'll be learning the meaning of the word "diffused" through context. He'll be learning a lot via context. He did learn that although you can't catch your shadow, it is fun to try! He kept trying to catch it and stomp on it!
Walking back from the bus another day, he asked where all the puddles were, "Mommy, where all da puddles goed?" because a few days earlier we had walked home from the bus after a rain and he stomped in all the puddles on the way home. I told him there were no puddles because it hadn't rained, and the puddles that were there before had dried up, the water had evaporated. He can say evaporated now. As in, "Mommy, da puddles aaaallll 'vapowated up!" Yup, they 'vapowated up. So then we were reading "Sun Up, Sun Down" for a bedtime story, and after the third time through, when the book was talking about the sun heating the oceans and lakes and rivers, the water turning into vapor, and then condensing into rain drops (it's a pretty in-depth bedtime story), I told him the process by which water turns into vapor is called evaporation, and he equated it with the puddles 'vapowating up, and I asked him if he'd like to see that happening, and he said yes. So after we finished the book, I put some water in a pan, showed him the water level we were starting with, and put it on the stove. Then we read a book about bees, and then checked the water. I told him steam is water vapor, that's the water vaporizing or evaporating (his new favorite word) and then I turned off the burner and showed him how there was less water in the pan. That was last night, first thing this morning, Husband opened his door and Kittyboy came running out, first words out of his mouth, "Daddy, Mommy showed me e-va-po-wa-tion!"
And he points out his shadow, my shadow, all shadows, all over the place. Shadows and evaporation.
Cleaning the church this morning for a wedding was symmetry and attention to detail - he helped me straighten up all the bookracks in the pews. We went to Hobby Lobby and he wanted yarn, and is crocheting himself a hat (HA! I hold the yarn!) about six stitches at a time, which is fine motor skills. I'm crocheting a whole bunch of stuff right now, and he found red, yellow, orange and white yarn that he held in his arms all the way through the store, and all the way home. It is HIS YARN. He was bouncing up and down next to me at the checkout, "I will have my yarn back now? I will have my yarn back now?" I know you can make a hat from a rectangle, just fold it in half and sew two sides, and it's a square goofy looking hat, so that's what we're doing.
Bus rides are map-reading, directions and schedules. The grocery store is math. Although, I asked him where the arrow was pointing on the produce scale, and he enthusiastically yelled, "WIGHT THERE!!!" Why yes indeed. It is pointing RIGHT THERE. I love it!!!

And suddenly, progress... potty training!!

2010-09-16T13:27:00.003-05:00

Possibly TMI if you're not a parent who's gone through potty training a boy and envisioned cement overshoes for the next person who says "Oh don't worry, boys just take a long time," or the infamous "No one goes to kindergarten in diapers." To say nothing of "This too shall pass." Even my mother, God bless her, has finally learned not to say that to me. I tend to become, shall we say, unhinged.
Some children do go to kindergarten in pull-ups. Not to mention, you want your kid potty-trained long BEFORE the first day of kindergarten. That's what, age five? Long before.
I refuse to believe that all boys always have taken well beyond the age of three to train, since I seem to recall the norm being 2-3 years old, girls being more towards the 2 end and boys towards the 3.
So here's the saga. At not yet two - I believe it was two years ago this month or the next - Kittyboy, who was not talking especially, learned the sign for Toilet. I used it every time I changed his diaper, and he put together that sign with the bodily functions which require a diaper change. One morning, he began signing it every time he did anything. Every half hour to hour throughout the day. The next day - and half a package of diapers later - I thought, "This is it, he's ready, he needs to be trained! Holy cow, he's ready!" We got a potty chair and everything. The next day after THAT, he had most likely gotten tired of being interrupted every single time he signed Toilet, and quit. Not interested anymore. Nope, too much work, it distracted him from his primary life goals of eating books and breaking things. And he never signed Toilet again.
But identifying the function that requires a diaper change is one of the signs of readiness. So, in our minds at least, if not his, we've been potty-training two years now.
This spring - well, late winter sort of - he started preschool. He was at that point mostly trained for urine, had never in his life gone stool on the toilet and refused to try, but during the day, we were doing pretty well for urine. About three weeks into preschool, he became every bit as clingy as he had been back when I couldn't leave the room. He started screaming as if genuinely scared of something every time I put him down at night, until Daddy came home from work (which was roughly 2.5 hours after bedtime). A couple days later, started having diarrhea. Something was wrong, and the requests to go to the HOSPITAL made me think it was the fact that preschool was in the morning, and every day when I picked him up, we had the same conversation about Daddy being at work already and not being able to pick him up. When Kittyboy does something dramatic, Husband comes home from work to take us to the ER. And so Kittyboy was asking to go to the hospital, because then Husband would have to come home. We went to the doctor to find out if he was sick, and ask if stress can really do this to a child, and the doctor said absolutely, yes it can, and that Kittyboy actually didn't look or act sick - but maybe tired, stressed, and depressed. We kept him out of school for a week, and after a couple days of being home with Husband/Daddy in the morning like before school started, Kittyboy was sleeping at night again and back to his usual self. The diarrhea was over with by the weekend, and the following Monday, he started in the older class in the afternoon. And it never happened again.
However, during that unpleasant and stressful week, we had given up potty-training. We thought it was the sensible thing to do, one less thing for the over-stressed boy to worry about. But as a result, we lost EVERYTHING. All progress. He was no longer interested. He continued going on the toilet at school, of all places, because of the routine, but at home, no luck. I would ask him if he needed to go, he would say no, five minutes later I would be changing him. Or I would put him on the toilet against his will, he would sit and go, and five minutes later would go again. I'm not a patient person. And this has been the state of affairs until, oh, a week ago.
(I've read several articles about potty-training since, all of them saying that once you have started, you DO NOT STOP. EVER. It's the biggest, and probably most common, mistake that parents make, because they're moving from one town to another, or a family member dies, or the child is sick, something happens that makes potty-training just seem like the last thing anyone wants to worry about - and when the dust settles, more often than not, they are back to square one. It doesn't matter if a parent died AND you're moving across the country AND the child has stomach flu. Do. Not. Stop. Completely. Understanding that you probably won't have much success, you have to at least keep going through the motions, or you may lose everything. This would have been useful for us to know back in early March, and we didn't, which is why I now tell all first-time moms I know.)
We tried stickers. We tried M&Ms. We tried putting him in underwear and saying "What happens, happens, and he'll get it eventually." We required that he participate in cleanup, which didn't bother him in the slightest. Note, you can only do that for so long at a stretch. And he had to be in pull-ups to go anywhere, obviously. He couldn't just stay sequestered at home for the weeks that would have taken to work.
Meanwhile (did I mention I'm not a patient person?), our household saw frequent (sometimes daily) mommy-meltdowns, and I'm told again and again that patience and not making a big deal of it are critical to success, but just knowing that didn't magically increase my patience. It just made the whole process more upsetting. I can be patient and understanding if there's a physical or mental problem, but there didn't seem to BE an excuse - he is very bright, and had shown all signs of readiness for almost two years, it seemed that the problem was that he was perfectly happy with the status quo. He had the ability - for urine at least. We just hadn't found a motivation to keep him motivated. And there was the nagging fact that never, not once, had he gone stool on the toilet. He simply refused to.
Oh, and I attempted the scientific route - showing him diagrams of the kidney/bladder system, the intestines/colon system, and explaining how everything works when he "has to go". That only had the interesting and disturbing effect of greatly enlarging his vocabulary - "Oh yook (look)! Stool came out of me! Stool came out of my cowon! My cowon is empty now!" (as we cleaned up his bedroom floor). Conversations I never wish to have again. I do not recommend that approach.
I think it was about three weeks ago that I started wondering about the fact that Kittyboy's intestines were not what you would call "regular". All advice on training for bowel movements said to put the child on the toilet when he or she would normally go anyway. Kittyboy would not "go" for days, then for a day or two he would go 3-5 times a day. Then not for a few days again. There was nothing "regular" about it. And he seemed to always be on the edge of constipated. I remembered when he first started drinking milk, that constipation was a frequent problem at first, and if he got anything beyond three glasses a day, the next day he would be crying and constipated. I googled lactose intolerance - the symptoms are the opposite of constipation, along with reflux, digestive problems, gas, problems Kittyboy didn't have. I googled milk and constipation, and found one site that mentioned a rare form of lactose intolerance where the children affected were always constipated. But it was way more extreme than just "Gee, he's not anything like regular and is constipated at least twice a month." I threw up my hands and decided that we would just cut milk and cheese completely for a week and see what happened. It couldn't hurt. Then we would schedule a checkup to ask "Alright, just how normal do YOU think it is that he's coming up on four years old and still in pull-ups?" and we would also bring up the constipation, lack of anything like regularity (since stool was the big problem), and also "We pulled dairy for a week and here's what happened -" and see whether we should be testing for some sort of veeerrry mild food intolerance. I also asked Kittyboy one day, "Can you not FEEL when you have to go stool?" to which he answered no. Okay, so THAT'S a problem. Another thing to bring up to the doctor.
The week without milk happened to begin one random day when we ran out of milk and didn't buy any more. "Sorry, we don't have any milk - would you like water or juice?" He drinks water happily anyway. No macaroni, no grilled cheese, no cheese of any sort. The second or third day, I think I changed at least six or seven pull-ups. Same the next day. He just kept GOING. The next day after that, he went once in the morning and once in the afternoon. And the next day, and the next. First time he's been regular since starting on milk. Now he gets maybe two glasses a day and maybe one thing with cheese - two servings a day, maybe three, and some days none. No more four glasses of milk and grilled cheese for dinner, I can tell you that. (I was asked at a WIC appointment, when he was just turning three, how much milk he drank, and I said that I held him to three glasses a day, although he would gladly drink more, and the nurse said, "Oh, he can have four glasses, that's fine," and so that's what he had been getting, in addition to whatever cheese he got throughout the day). And we're going to ask the doctor what the best way is to supplement his calcium and vitamin D. Once he's so potty-trained that we don't even think about it, we can see how much milk he CAN have and still be regular.
So now he's been regular and predictable for about a week. Didn't mean he was willing to go on the toilet, but at least he was healthy and comfortable, and now we know.
Then yesterday, out of the blue, Kittyboy sat on the toilet and went stool. Of his own accord, with no one saying a thing. We FLIPPED OUT. We screamed, we hugged, we danced. He got a Sonic meal for lunch and Toy Story underwear to wear for the rest of the day (which we'd bought back in July for exactly this occasion, in the next size up from his regular underwear, thinking he might be into that size before he wore them). And then yesterday evening, he did it again, and again it was without being asked or told, of his own accord, just because he had to go. That just blew me away! Never before, then twice in a day!
So now, just shy if 3.75 years old, he is wearing underwear. Yesterday, and today. During the day at least, we're not even thinking about naps and overnights. We're just ecstatic to have some sort of handle on days. Clean and dry so far today too!!
There is light at the end of the tunnel!

Our first day of school!

2010-09-01T16:05:00.002-05:00

After seeing all his "goodies", Kittyboy wanted to do school RIGHT after breakfast, instead of waiting until after lunch!
He has Toy Story folders in which to keep papers, a Toy Story pencil case with brand new markers (and brand new markers are a lovely thing at ANY age!), real metal scissors all his own, a nice new bottle of glue, his workbooks from Rod and Staff, some linking blocks for counting, the Melissa and Doug "abacus", and a beautiful coloring book - a "Spero's Orthdoox Alphabet" coloring book. The coloring book and workbooks, we are making copies from, because they're so nice (and then he can do them again and again), and because I don't know where to get another of that coloring book.
Our first day was a learning experience for the both of us. He loooooves worksheets, and he would have blazed through the first book entirely if not for a little glitch. He is very good at tracing lines and finding the pictures that match up, to trace the line between them. BUT, Kittyboy had no idea what the word "different" meant. As in, "Mark which picture is different." And it took me a bit to realize that he honestly didn't know. Not a clue. I don't know if they didn't cover "different" and "same" in the four-year-old preschool class he was in, or if he just went along with everyone else and no one realized he had no clue? I imagine it was the second, because I would think the concepts of "same" and "different" would be pretty basic and fundamental. Well, now he knows. Different means "not-the-same" - look to see which of the pictures match and are the same, and then the one that doesn't is "different". But it took a little bit to get there. I tried pointing out differences on the worksheet, which ball was striped and which two others weren't, and that that made the striped one different. Tried a few different rows of pictures pointing out differences, with no comprehension taking place. I took some of his colored linking blocks, three white and one yellow, and asked which one was different. No clue. I tried a few color variations with no luck. Then I took two of the same and asked if they were the same, if they were a match, were they the SAME color, and he said yes. So I added one that was a different color, and asked if it was a match, the same, the same color, and he said no. I applauded! "Correct! It is NOT THE SAME. It is DIFFERENT." Then he started to catch on. After a few more tries with the blocks, I asked him about a row of pictures on the worksheet, and he said "this and this and this go together." So which one WAS different? "This one" (pointing to the right one). "YES!! I AM SO PROUD OF YOU!!" And he got the rest of the page right! I danced and clapped and squealed and hugged!! It was SUCH a triumph!!!!!!
These workbooks will be very handy for showing me what he doesn't know. Now I can remedy basics that may be lacking, like "different".
He loves school!!! He didn't want to stop!

And also in the picture, I had bought a little plastic "Woody" at Walmart a few weeks ago, that turned out to not be the bendable rubber-with-wire that I thought it was, but rigid plastic instead, and so it was demoted from St. Nicholas Day to "first day of school surprise" (having opened the package, I couldn't return it, although I didn't realize it wasn't what I wanted until I opened the package...). So far, Woody has gone outside, lost his hat, watched Kittyboy working, gone outside again, found his hat, played in a puddle, and took a long walk with us. And has not been broken yet, to my relief. So I'm torn now about whether to just give Kittyboy a little plastic Buzz and Jessie (to match the Woody) for Christmas, and run the risk they'll all be broken in a few months, or get him all three in the nicer forms we've found in the Disney Store, and he'll just have two Woodys. This one is nice enough to look at, but might be better suited to a shelf than actual play. I keep reminding him to be careful with the legs. But it can watch him do his "school-work, so it's okay for now.
I think I just talked myself into getting the better quality ones for Christmas!

Last Week Before School!!

2010-08-23T11:13:00.004-05:00

It hit me this morning that if I'm going to schooling Kittyboy with a schedule (which would make record-keeping far easier - not that we need to, but it'd be a good idea), our starting date of September first is ONE WEEK away. I have a week to figure out our schedule, get copies made of the awesome workbooks I got from Rod and Staff, decide how we should do things, and I want to plan a "first day of preschool for real" photo session.
And by the way, if you have a three-year-old, check out those workbooks. Seriously. Your child will have some nearly K-level skills by the age of four - and yet they start with the most basic ideas and very slowly and subtly work up to actual critical thinking and such. It's a set of four workbooks. The first page of the first book is "Draw a line between the pictures that are the same" with two columns of pictures. Not only are the columns exactly the same (the first two match, second two match, etc), there's a dotted line to trace for each set. Then one of the last couple pages in the fourth book asks the child to draw lines between the dominoes that have the same number of dots! Nothing to trace, the dominoes aren't in any order, kind of demanding for a four-year-old, but if you've already mastered the other three books, it's not a stretch at all. And that's the precursor to their actual preschool curriculum, which I'm guessing is roughly equivalent to kindergarten, and their 1st grade curriculum is meant to start at age 6.
As far as daily scheduling, I think "school" starts after lunch, when Husband leaves for work. Mornings are Daddy/play/park time, and afternoon school is the schedule Kittyboy is used to anyway. Thanks to my friend Amy, he has a lovely school desk with storage in it, and boy will I be using that storage space.
I already did some supply shopping (sans Kittyboy), for new markers, real glue (gluesticks are about as adhesive as post-it notes, I learned this the hard way), folders for storing worksheets, a pencil case, and his first real pair of scissors. I had a lovely time going through every box of folders at the store to make sure Kittyboy would have one of each of the Toy Story folders. When I was in junior high and high school, there were folders with these beautiful paintings of fish and whales and coastal scenes by an artist named Christian Riese Lassen, and I would go through every box of folders on the shelf to make sure I had one of each painting. That way I had something to look at when I was bored. Scouring the shelves for Buzz and Woody brought back memories! The pencil case is also Toy Story (we have a theme, obviously, since he already has a Toy Story backpack). The folders would never fit in his little backpack, but that's fine, because he's not going anywhere that he would have to take them! Haha! Of course, all this has been stashed in our closet, to surprise him on his first day.
I already know that we are taking off from the week before Christmas to St. Anthony's Day in January (the 17th), and that's Christmas break. Then we'll take off Holy Week and Bright Week, and the month of August. I'll sprinkle off-weeks elsewhere in the year.
So I have this week to
1. make copies of the first workbook
2. print out and put up the fish anatomy diagrams I found online (more on our classroom pet, the bluegill, later)
3. get page protectors! That way I can put his worksheets in them and he can do them with dry erase marker and if he scribbles, I can wipe it off.
4. hunt up some "manipulatives" for counting. That's a fancy word for "little stuff to count". I'm thinking dried beans, buttons, those flat glass marbles... and a container in which to keep them.
5. find methods of organizing the (large, flat, shallow) storage space in the desk.
Not only all that, but it's great laundry weather right now - I should go do that.
Later!

Local Fish Store WIN

2010-08-10T19:55:00.002-05:00

It's Tuesday night. Thursday morning, the Kittyboy and I head off to my parents so that Kittyboy can meet his auntie's college friend, AND so that I can pick up and take home a bluegill for my 65-gallon tank. I've been planning this "Illinois tank" for weeks, ever since the two big goldfish in that tank died, and it's been quite the project. New filters (because it turns out that relying on an under-gravel setup in such a big tank is probably why fish died periodically), new lights (to hopefully grow plants), and live plants. I was going to try and get duckweed or hornwort for plants, then found out those both float on the surface, and eventually would COVER the surface, blocking light to the grass I've already got. So I'm sticking with grass and whatever grows from those little dried bulbs they sell at Walmart.
Anyhow, lights are set up, grass has not died yet and in fact might be growing more, a bulb that I thought was a dud (been in there for months and done nothing) has now put out six inches of growth, filters are running, all's good. Getting the fish Thursday.
Need a battery-powered air pump to transport it with the absolute minimum of stress.
But those are such basic, necessary things, I didn't think to look around in advance. It's something you need if the power goes out, an emergency measure that you don't necessarily plan for, but usually when you need one, you NEED ONE. RIGHT THEN.
Petsmart had none. Petco had none. Oh, they had them online. If I had, you know, a couple weeks to wait. But if you run in crying, "Omygosh a tree just fell on our power-line and I need an air pump for my 500 gallon reef!!"? Sorry, not in stores.
I was fuming. And panicking, I need a pump in roughly 36 hours, but also fuming, because that's just so short-sighted. We had a tornado about four years ago that knocked out power to MUCH of Springfield for days or weeks, depending on where you lived. We get tornadoes every year - they don't do that much damage every year, but we get them. Not stocking back-up air pumps is like Wal-Mart not stocking hurricane lamps.
I called the only small, local fish store I could think of, The Fishman Pet Center - insert Star Wars clip, "Help me Fishman Kenobi! You're my only hope!" - and THEY have them. They have two, on the shelf, right now. They open at noon tomorrow.
And I flooded the lady on the phone with my gratitude and relief. I told her the whole long story and that neither of the major chains carry this basic, necessary piece of equipment in their stores. She also thought that was ridiculous - she knew people who lost THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS worth of fish after the tornado because they hadn't bought pumps and their store didn't have enough to go around. When you need one, you NEED ONE.
We've actually never gone to The Fishman before, because it's waaaay the other end of Springfield while the chains are only a couple miles away, but I think I will be patronizing them from now on. They know what fish-keepers need!
Sooooooo relieved... :)

Kittyboy, Angels, and Overcoming Fear

2010-08-06T18:12:00.001-05:00

After signing up months ago (maybe a year ago?) at the Right To Life Center as a volunteer, I finally got the call to come help with something, putting address labels on a mailing. I was excited, and so was Kittyboy, because he knows that's where they have ''babies in the window''. We packed one of his little bookbags with toys, headed downtown, and discovered that the easiest 2-hr parking spaces, by far, were a block away. Just a little walk up a hill and across... train tracks.

Kittyboy is infamous for choosing inopportune times to be scared of random stuff. Just so happened he's never walked over train tracks before. We got to about level with the crossing gate, and he turned in front of me, almost tripping me. I told him we had to keep going, we had to cross, and he started whimpering and whining no, and kept pulling me in circles like a dog on a leash. He would not cross the tracks. I told him impatiently that this was ridiculous, there was no train, it was fine, and we had to go. The way the tracks are at 3rd and Monroe, there's one lane of 3rd St either side of the tracks, so we were basically in the road. So I pulled him toward the tracks again, and he jerked away hard, almost ran into traffic. Monroe's a busy four-lane. I couldn't carry him, my arms were full, so eventually I just pulled him after me over the tracks (guess I still AM stronger), and told him on the other side while he cried, that he MUST NEVER try to get away from me like that again. Of course, having taken all that trouble, the papers to be mailed hadn't come yet and we had to come back at 1:30. I'd already plugged the meter, so I thought we may as well go to the Marian Center across the street. Kittyboy loves that store. But I wasn't going to haul his stuff around while we shopped. Back over the train tracks.

Same scenario - the panic, circling around me, trying to jerk away. Dragged him back across again against his will, telling him stoically that everything was fine, there was no train, all was well. Not the ideal way to handle a terrified child, but neither could we just sit in the street and talk about it, and you have to get him calmed down before you even CAN talk about it. Which wasn't going to happen so long as he knew we WERE crossing the tracks regardless.

Back at the car, I unloaded, and asked him if he WANTED to go to the Marian Center. I pointed out we'd have to cross the tracks again. He did say he wanted to. Sigh.

Third crossing, he may have THOUGHT he was going to be fine, but no - I just scooped him up and went. Being carried didn't make things okay for him, it just made him easier to transport.

So the whole length of the block, he kept pulling in random directions, jerking away, that time he was acting panicky well after the crossing was over. He didn't relax until we were in the Marian Center.

Aaahhh, safety. Peace, quiet, church music playing, not to mention a pronounced lack of train tracks. We sat right on the floor and Talked About It. I asked him why he was afraid of the train tracks. No clear answer except something to do with a train (duh). I told him there was no train. I told him you never, ever, ever, ever run away from Mommy. I told him traffic is dangerous and You Will Get Hurt. He got all that, nodded, agreed. Except no one thinks rationally when they're freaking out, right?

The Marian Center carries an abundance of small, inexpensive pendants, pins, little rosaries, icon cards, lots of things that could have qualified as bribes/security-things. I started asking - ''Would a new cross necklace help you cross the tracks?'' ''No.'' ''Would a new little icon card help you cross the tracks?'' ''No.'' I offered, and he rejected, everything I could think of. He pulled a nice olive wood crucifix necklace off a rack and declared it was his - I looked at the price and asked, ''Could this help you cross the...'' ''No.'' And then he put it back! That cross he really wanted, he did not want enough to cross the tracks without a fight. That's serious!!

He ran over to their collection of small icons, and started pulling them out for me to name. Those were a little beyond my ''inexpensive bribery'' price range, but I was asking anyway whether another icon of Jesus would help him cross the tracks (no) or another of the Mother of God (no), and one he pulled out was the Archangel Gabriel. That WOULD be Alexis Gabriel's patron, so I asked Kittyboy if he thought we should get that ''for Alexis'', he agreed, and then I brought up how angels are God's messengers and ministers, and they watch over us. God watches over us, and angels do His bidding, right? And if God has His angels watching over us, then we've no reason to be afraid, do we? Kittyboy was holding the icon and nodding along. So did he think he could cross the tracks with Alexis' icon? Seeing as how it's an angel?

Would you believe the answer was still no?

And then he didn't want us to buy the icon, because then he'd have to cross the tracks without a fight, and he knew he couldn't do that, therefore he couldn't get the icon (so his reasoning went). And I couldn't convince him that we could get the icon regardless, and it became apparent that getting the icon was actually going to upset him further (again, see diagram of his logic above). So we put it back. But now I was pointing out every angel I saw, and telling him again and again how God watches over us (Father, Son and Holy Spirit, all three!), and His angels watch over us, and of course the Mother of God (his favorite), and his patron St. Patrick, and so we don't have to be afraid, do we? He agreed wholeheartedly - but tracks were still not happening. Talked about how Mommy and Daddy wouldn't let anything hurt him, and God loves him even more than we do - he agreed, he was quite agreeable, but No Tracks. In the Children's Room, they had a copy of a picture I want - a little boy leaning over a cliff to pick flowers, TOTALLY oblivious, with an angel hovering nearby. As many times as Kittyboy has tempted serious injury...! And I pointed it out to him. He liked it. He didn't want it (and it was well out of my range or I'd have gotten it anyway). And it wasn't going to help him over the tracks.

I'd given up, we'd looked at everything, I would just have to carry him over while he freaked and then we'd put railroad crossings on the No list, and then he saw a little guardian angel pin on a spindle by the door. He said, ''That my guardien angel!'' I pointed out that it wasn't an actual angel, it was a picture of one... wait, would that angel help him cross the tracks without being scared and running? Jumping with his arms outstretched, trying to reach it - ''YES!''

And wearing his little pin, he walked across the tracks holding my hand. He didn't stop, jerk away, spin me in circles, or try to run. He whimpered pitifully from one side to the other, but he did it!

And when we went back at 1:30 to help with the mailing, we found a parking space right in front!

(I should add that we also discussed extensively that just because God takes care of us, does NOT mean we cross the tracks if a train IS coming!)

A Calendar for the Dormition Fast

2010-08-01T22:42:00.000-05:00

Today being the first of August (for maybe an hour yet), we started the Dormition Fast, the fasting period for the two weeks prior to the feast-day of Mary the Theotokos falling asleep in the Lord (falling asleep, hence, Dormition)(Theotokos = Mother of God). Dormition is the 15th (and the 16th is our anniversary, which is why the Theotokos is our family patron saint!). I saw the COOLEST calendar craft by Amy at Crafty Contemplative, with a vine and felt flowers. The theme is "Flowers for the Theotokos", and the idea is to attach one flower every day, fifteen flowers for the first fifteen days of August. Now, Amy's idea is absolutely gorgeous and looks awesome. Seriously. Go look at it. She even has kits you can buy to make it yourself - all you need are glue and kids. But I read all this about the calendar Friday afternoon, July 30th, today was Sunday the 1st, we weren't able to catch the bus we needed to get to Walmart and get felt before the day buses stopped running, and the night buses have reaaaally long routes, I wanted to do something THAT NIGHT, and the dog ate my homework. So I came up with THIS instead. Because I am lacking in patience and felt, but blessed with a surplus of paper and markers.

This is a piece of paper with a vase or pot drawn on it, not sure which, and a plant of some sort, and our first flower attached. I taped it to the wall, under our large family icon of the Theotokos. I drew and cut out 15 large flower shapes, 15 small flower shapes, and 15 little circles. Kittyboy colored them in, then chose for me which colors should go together - each large flower shape has a smaller one in the center, then a little circle in the center of that. I believe we have one that is brown-orange-purple, hahaha. But I'm keeping my micromanaging little nose out of it, they're entirely his coloring and color choices. I put glue on the paper, he glued them together, and we're taping on one a day to the bush/vine/plant. I already foresee a space issue - we will NOT have room for 15 flowers on this plant. The flowers may extend onto the wall, I don't know. Anyhow, tonight before bed we put on our first flower, sang It Is Truly Meet, and he kissed her goodnight.

"It is truly meet to bless thee, O Theotokos, ever blessed and most pure and the Mother of our God; more honorable than the Cherubim, and beyond compare more glorious than the Seraphim, who without stain did give birth to God the Word; true Theotokos, we magnify thee!"

Some (rather rambling) Thoughts on Mourning

2010-07-30T14:15:00.002-05:00

Today was the Share Burial at Calvary Cemetery for Alexis Gabriel and other babies who had died in the same time frame. I had expected just a simple burial, not an event requiring a program, so that there was a program and "service" threw me for a loop.
I like cemeteries. I like funerals (as our church does them). I do not care for the composite of poetry, meditation, and contemporary music that is usually termed a "memorial service". I finally walked off during the last poetry reading because for reasons I couldn't articulate at the time, it was not helpful - more just vaguely upsetting.
I sorted out why on the way home. The service seemed focused on how losing someone is always sad, that we don't stop loving someone when they die, and the grieving of survivors rather than the comfort of the Resurrection. There WAS that, sort of, hinted at, but that wasn't the main message. Thinking back, that may be the result of trying to simplify the service - neutering it, actually - so as to "reach" everyone there, Catholic, Protestant, atheist, what have you. It was generically Christian, but with a kind of humanist feel to it. It felt like the focus was on the grieving process and not... I don't know.
And I want to know in what translation of the Bible the final verse of Psalm 23 is written "And I will dwell in the house of the Lord for the rest of my life." That's WRONG. And it was jarring in its wrongness. I also dislike "the darkest valley" versus "the valley of the shadow of death". I wonder if someone picked that translation because they were reluctant to use the word Death; but it's a funeral. Death is why we were there. People die. We all will die. Call death what it is. It's an inevitable part of life.
So... not much on death not being the end, but not much on death itself either. I guess that means the focus was mainly on the grieving process and us. As much as I appreciate Victorian mourning rituals (hey, they had no problem acknowledging death), sentiment is not something with which I'm comfortable. To focus on grief alone (the acknowledgment of, expression of, the working through, etc) is not comforting, and that was basically what I got out of it. That, and that there is a translation of the Bible out there which is in need of correction.
We're going to cut our surprise lilies tomorrow and go back to the cemetery, and I think I will print out 1 Thessalonians 4 and take it with me.
I find myself using his name comfortably now - for a couple months at least, he was "the baby" when I talked to anyone outside our family, and I actually didn't talk about him much, because some people hadn't known I was pregnant, and others didn't know I'd miscarried, I didn't want to upset people by drawing attention to it, and of course no one knew the name, since we picked it after the miscarriage, so I didn't use it. Then Kittyboy and I passed by the Right To Life Center downtown and I showed him the one-month-size baby in the window and said, "That's how big Alexis Gabriel was when he died," and so Kittyboy's been talking about him since ("Ayexis Gabwiew was sooo yittle! And his body didn't work wight!"). So we talk about him now. Kittyboy's happy to be taking flowers "for Ayexis" tomorrow. Memory eternal!

"Kawate!"

2010-07-10T15:36:00.004-05:00

The weekend that Toy Story 3 came out, we went to see it - Kittyboy had been requesting it since he first saw the Toy Story logo with the number 3. I guess the new "Karate Kid" movie came out the same weekend, because Premier Martial Arts had a table set up at the theater, signing kids up for karate classes. They had a wheel to spin for a free week, free month, etc of classes. I was just looking at their literature and one of the older students at the table asked if I'd want to spin the wheel. I explained the boy in question isn't yet four (there's a place in town that starts at age 4), and he said, "Oh, we have a 3-4 class!" Spun and got him two free classes. The first Saturday, I was working, but this weekend I got to see it. I really, really tried not to jump up and tell him what to do, which is really hard when your kid is the only one not standing - only one not sitting - only one turning around slowly and looking spaced out... But they did eventually get him involved, it just took longer. A class of 22 students under the age of 5 is organized chaos, even with three senseis. It was so funny to watch - it was all PT and OT stuff - gross motor, coordination, balance, sensory integration! They had them going from standing to down on the mat and back up, snapping to attention when the sensei clapped, ducking under a moving padded bar, high-fiveing a moving paddle from the top of a stack of cushions (so you have to balance and aim at the same time), and walking on foam balance beams. Maybe half an hour long. And at the beginning and end, they bowed to their parents and then to the senseis, so that was cool. Kittyboy couldn't stay on the balance beams for anything, and so the sensei let him walk it holding his finger - SO CUTE. He did pretty well at the climb-the-cushions, smack-the-paddle thing, and the running-under-the-bar thing. I was kind of on the fence as to whether he was just not ready yet, because watching him move and the others move, he LOOKS way younger, but Brian said it'd be good for him, and he WILL catch up. And they're really cool and understanding that he's not quite up with the other kids just yet, and they just keep giving him extra instruction and more time to do things. Very positive, encouraging, "Well hey, let's try this again!" We signed him up for the next three months!
Belts in the 3-4 class advance by participation. Each week you get another red stripe of tape on your belt and when you have eight stripes, you move up to a belt with a colored stripe (yellow, orange, etc). There were four or five kids who advanced to the next belt at the end of the class today.
His gi, by the way, is size 000. The smallest size they make. Pant legs and sleeves cuffed. He's sooo cuuuute.....
We are practicing things at home - things like bowing, and monkey-see, monkey-do standing and sitting and whatnot, and the clapping they use to get all the students' attention.
Kittyboy's really excited, too! After the first class, he was talking about doing "kawate" and "I do kawate again? Okay!"

P.S. (the funeral service)

2010-06-30T20:07:00.002-05:00

I found, but forgot to include, a link to the text of the funeral service itself.

http://www.goarch.org/chapel/liturgical_texts/funeral2

I was going to say that I particularly love the Evlogitaria, and the hymns by St. John of Damascus, and then I realized that's the bulk of the service - so if you've not seen it before, just read the whole thing.

Kittyboy's first funeral

2010-06-30T19:08:00.002-05:00

I chanted a funeral today, my second ever and it had been several years since the last, which necessitated a call to my dad last night to make sure I would have the gender right for Meta Ton Aghion and Eonia Imnimi. And Husband had to work, so he dropped us off with the car seat and Kittyboy was, by default, with me in the front pew chanting. Let me just say, the Kittyboy was spectacular for being three years old, bored, tired, hot, sleepy, hungry and thirsty. Especially the three years old part.
The funeral started at 11, for one of our church's yiayias, Irene Gagaoudaki, may her memory be eternal. I didn't know her well - I remember when her sister passed away in Greece, she brought candles for everyone in church for memorial prayers. Her health had kept her from attending for some time. I'm sure Kittyboy didn't remember her, if he'd ever seen her, but I told him she donated the icon of the Annunciation that he likes so much (one of many facts I didn't know until this last Sunday). Kittyboy sat fairly still and quietly until about the Gospel, and then he started bouncing on the pew and then started tugging at the book, so I showed him word by word what Father was reading, and that worked for a while. Boy also sang along very loudly with every thrice-repeated Lord have mercy, which I tried very subtly to discourage because I didn't know what the family, RIGHT behind us, would think, but of course Kittyboy knew better. Then the service was over, and after everyone else had gone through the line to say their goodbyes, I picked up the Kittyboy so he could see her and explained that her body didn't work anymore, and so she had died, and we were saying goodbye. And he said bye-bye. So we stood outside with Presbytera, who was to be our ride to the cemetery, and waited for the casket to be brought out, and a man came up to talk to Kittyboy. He said that Irene worked with kids (another thing I didn't know), and that she would have been so happy to hear a little boy singing at her funeral, because she loved children.
So it was a good thing that Kittyboy was singing after all!
Naturally, he was fascinated by the casket and hearse and all, and how funeral processions (strangely enough) do not go whee. And we go through red lights! We had a conversation that lasted from church to the cemetery, which at 20-25 mph was a good trip, about bodies and souls and dying and burial (of the body that doesn't work anymore) and that I have a soul and he has a soul and Daddy has a soul, and all human beings are created with souls, and those don't die but bodies do, they wear out and quit working, and all that, and he is going to sound like one morbid preschooler for a while, because he was fascinated and talking about guppies and goldfish as well (which we bury in my crown-of-thorns's pot), which don't have souls but do die and get buried, and my heavens, the phrases with which he may be randomly greeting checkout people. Three-and-a-half is SUCH an age. But I think it's all explained well enough now.
At the cemetery, the man who had talked to Kittyboy at church asked if he wanted to sit on his shoulders, to which Kittyboy of course jumped up and down on his tip-toes with his arms up. For the burial service, I couldn't see them, but I could hear the giggles wandering back and forth behind me from about six feet off the ground.
I promised him we would come back to look at headstones and read them and all. "And this says? And this says? And this is? And that says! And this says?" He liked the cemetery. We have to go back. Perhaps I have a future mortician, or cemetery caretaker or some-such.
When we reached the restaurant for a fellowship meal afterward, it was about 1:30. He'd been roughly three hours without food, drink or BATHROOM. Amazingly, he was still clean and dry, woohoo, perhaps potty-training is making an impact? And he was very patient about wanting a drink. He had very patiently asked, from the cemetery to the restaurant, "I want a drink? I have a drink pease? I will have a drink now." He got orange juice, and had almost drained it by the time the waitress was done passing out waters, so she got him more. He had fried calamari for the first time ever, LOVED it, snitched from mine after he ate his, and was just very, very good. And any time his mouth was unoccupied, he was singing something over and over and over and over, which I finally identified as the "Lord have mercy" I sang during the funeral.
Got home about quarter til four. Watched Toy Story 2. Boy did he earn it, that was a LOOOOONG DAY, with lots of having to sit still and be quiet and a long stretch of no food or water, and a meal in a restaurant RIGHT at nap time, all of which he handled exceedingly well. Our first in-depth discussions of mortality at the three-year-old comprehension level also went well - allowing for the fact that death may now be the new interesting subject...
And we have to go back to visit the cemetery where you bury the bodies that don't work anymore (as opposed to the ones that still work, and therefore are alive, and therefore not buried, which is why HE is not being buried, had to clear up that point because he thought burial would be cool) and where we then put really awesome stones that say things over the burial places, so that we can read what all the stones say and talk about the people buried under them.

I am very tired. So is the Chanting Funeral-Director Boy. He is in bed.

I love all the hymns from the funeral service, but I think my favorite part is the Epistle reading, 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. I want to memorize it - "Brothers, we do not want you to be ignorant about those who fall asleep, or to grieve like the rest of men, who have no hope. We believe that Jesus died and rose again and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage each other with these words."
All of the service is beautiful, but the Epistle is what sticks in my mind, and I remember when Grandma Sandy was in the hospital after her stroke last year - the awful, surreal weekend we spent in the hospital in Missouri saying goodbye - these words played in my head in a continuous loop, "We do not mourn as those who have no hope."

Making Time to Breathe

2010-06-29T12:05:00.002-05:00

Well, it took three weeks, lots of frustration, and the combined assistance of my mom and little sister, but I can now open my front door to someone without feeling the need to step out and close it behind me. This project went way beyond cleaning - we took apart rooms completely, then put them back together as if moving in again for the first time, asking, ''Now that we know what DOESN'T work, what kind of storage/arrangement will work BETTER?'' It does no good to put things away when they have no place to really go. Massive quantities of STUFF have departed our little house, and many lidded plastic boxes have arrived, for the purpose of giving every category of thing a Place To Be. A place for everything, and everything in its place. At long, long last. Just in time, too, as I discovered a leak in the kitchen just last Thursday, and was able to simply mention it to the landlord and get it fixed, instead of trying to fix it myself because of not wanting anyone to enter The House Of Doom.
And now I am starting from lovely Square One, with a binder designed to keep the whole place this clean. I have a sheet for each day of the week, we sat down and listed everything we could think of, ranked them as daily, weekly, or monthly chores, and now each day of the week lists the daily things (it's a short list, to my surprise) and whatever weekly job has been assigned to that day. The sheets are in page protectors, so I can use dry erase markers to mark things off as they're done, and for the first time since Kittyboy was born, I can sit and read a book without feeling like I'm wasting time. Because that's exactly what I have now - time.
Speaking of the Kittyboy - his room is next.

Kittyboy and Easter

2010-05-11T14:59:00.002-05:00

I assigned Husband the difficult task of capturing the elusive Singing Kittyboy on film. Kittyboy has been singing the Resurrection hymn in both Greek and English (often both at once), sometimes nonstop, for a few weeks now. I'm going to hazard a guess that Easter will be his favorite holiday, as it is mine. He went to every single service during Holy Week, got over his candle-phobia completely just in time for Good Friday, and was a very small alterboy with his daddy for the Midnight Liturgy. Yes, three years old, WIDE awake at 11 p.m. that night, holding his daddy's hand and walking all around with him. He ran over to me as everyone went outside at midnight, and asked if we would "go around and around and around?" as we had Friday night. I said no, we were going outside to hear Father read the Gospel about Christ rising from the dead. Kittyboy said with great excitement, "OH! We go outside, tell the Resurrection!" Well of course, this wonderful thing has happened, we should go outside and tell people about it! - and he was eager to do just that. He was NOT happy when the choir (the two of us included) stopped behind Father, still in the church. "We go outside? We go outside to tell the Resurrection?" He kept asking, very quietly but plaintively, and his head drooped SO sadly when I kept saying that we were staying inside behind Father. Finally, between languages, I slid him out around Father to go to Husband outside, and he was happy. Heavens, you don't want to discourage the three-year-old missionary.
So since sometime during Bright Week, I think it was, Kittyboy has randomly burst into song, and it generally takes us a bit to realize he's singing Christos Anesti! We've been trying to capture it on video, but usually once he realizes you're taping, he stops singing. But Husband followed him around outside this morning and got him to sing it (sorta, mostly), in BOTH languages even.
(Okay, if you're reading this on Facebook, just go to the video posted on my wall, because I have no idea how this is going to go from Blogger to Facebook notes, I don't know if that will work or not.)
Enjoy! Christ is Risen! Truly He is Risen!

Spring Stationary Giveaway!

2010-05-11T14:39:00.002-05:00

My blogging friend, Presbytera Kathy at "Elona Creations", is hosting a giveaway of some of her beautiful handmade cards. Go here to enter! I just love her cards. :)

Kittyboy the Lumberjack

2010-05-05T21:48:00.003-05:00

I've been cutting out all the trees around and behind the garage, and Kittyboy has been hauling them to various burning piles. He's quite the pack mule. One tree was over an inch in diameter at the base, maybe 10' tall. He was a little frustrated that he couldn't hoist it over his head as he had the smaller ones (by smaller, I mean 9' and under). He dragged it very easily behind him, though, and hefted it hand-over-hand-over-hand onto the burning pile, which by that time was quite large.
So all afternoon (yesterday) he was asking to help saw. I have a little folding saw, you can fold the blade into the handle, kind of like a serrated flick knife. Now, our gardening lesson last week did not go well. I ended up banishing him from the garden after he (accidentally) whacked me in the head with his shovel. His "child-sized but still wood and metal and real" shovel. And the garden isn't a project I can let him mess up and say, "We'll try again," because I'm not buying plants all over again, it's something that has to be done carefully and correctly. It couldn't be a "learning process", if he could learn from it, great, but if not, he had to be out of the way. He needed to follow directions precisely, LOOK at what he was doing, LOOK at where things were as he was using his tools (to avoid problems like, oh, swinging your shovel carelessly over your shoulder and hitting someone in the head), and none of that was happening. It was a disaster, and frustrating for both of us, because he WANTED to help, but it just didn't work. Then yesterday, he wanted to "help Mommy saw".
I thought it over. The saw blade is not an exacto knife, it's not that sharp. You can grab it and it won't cut you (I did that, experimentally). I would have my hands over his, and if he ever started to give any hint of inattentiveness, the lesson would be over. I expected it to be a VERY short lesson, because, well, this is Kittyboy. But I've been thinking that five isn't necessarily safer than three as an age to start teaching the dangerous things, like how to safely handle a knife. The brain is better developed, but not necessarily impulse control. So I figured we'd give it a try, teach safe habits now rather than later. I know, it sounds insane to me too. But at the same time, it makes sense, to me at least.
I got far enough into the jungle that I had room next to me, and called him over. I said, "Here are the rules. This is a dangerous tool. This is not a toy. You never touch the blade. You never handle this without Mommy. And you do EXACTLY as I say. Got it?" and he said yes.
So we tried it! He's either ambidextrous or starting to show left-handed dominance, he put his left hand on the handle and insisted that's what he wanted to use, and me being right-handed, that made things tricky. But he was VERY attentive and obedient and DID EXACTLY WHAT I SAID. The saw slipped once, and he grabbed for it and I said NO, and he actually froze immediately, which I can't hardly ever get him to do. Instant obedience, that may have been a first. I reiterated that it was sharp and you never grab the blade, and he didn't do that again. He helped me cut THREE trees, then I saw poison ivy and cutting was over for the night. So then I closed the saw, handed it to him, told him DO NOT try to open it, carry it carefully to the front door while Mommy gets the laundry and then come back, and he did! EXACTLY as he was told!
And today again, I was cutting the trees down further to make the pile more compact, and one of the logs I let him cut with me, and he was amazingly responsible and careful, which is REALLY the opposite of his stereotype. Today, I let him take two strokes on his own with my hand just steadying the handle, so he could see that it doesn't cut by you pushing down on it, but by pushing and pulling it back and forth, and we talked about how this particular saw cuts on the pull stroke, etc. And every time he helps saw, we talk about paying attention to EVERYTHING, knowing where the blade is and is going to be at all times, knowing everything that's going on, observation skills and coordination and sensory processing abilities that he has GOT to learn. Now me, I'm clumsy like him - I walk into stuff with alarming frequency, I have hit myself in the face with a car door, tried to close a car door on my leg (both of those incidents, I was standing OUTSIDE of the car) - but I feel really, really safe doing some really dangerous stuff, because when I'm balancing on the edges of the tub taking down the shower curtain, or cutting at some precarious angles to avoid poison ivy and get exactly the branch I want at exactly the angle I want, something else kicks in. I know exactly where that blade is, what it's doing, what it's going to do. When I'm on a ladder with my back against a wall leaning over to paint something, I know exactly how my body is, where the ladder is, where the wall is, everything, I can feel everything exactly and I feel totally safe doing that. I'm better at those kind of things than walking through my own house some days. Hopefully we can maybe combat the clumsiness or lack of attention, however you look at it, by teaching him that kind of hyper-processing while he's REALLY young. Maybe then, as an adult, he won't try to slam a car door on his jaw. And while I was talking about knowing where the blade was and where it was going, I could see his eyes following it back and forth, so that was GREAT. Getting ready to make birdhouses or something with Daddy!
My little man is growing up!

Have I really not blogged since Palm Sunday? Wow......

Palm Sunday

2010-03-28T21:12:00.002-05:00

After his nap this afternoon, Kittyboy was running around the living room, waving his laurel branches and yelling "Hosanna in da highest!!!!!" It was adorable! He wanted to take them back to church this evening, which we discouraged, and then I found two branches in the basement (obviously in need of a child to wave them) and I said he could hold those, and he ran upstairs and ran straight to the icon of Jesus riding the donkey, and waved the branches AT it with such enthusiasm we were afraid he would knock it off the shelf! Apparently he was listening this morning when I pointed out Jesus and the donkey and the people waving branches, so he thought he would too! He pointed at it and yelled "Hosanna in da highest!!!" Yup, he had been paying attention!
This morning, he was just begging for a gag and straitjacket, this evening he was actually good as gold. He sang along with me and with Stathi, and he paid absolute attention to the Nymphios procession (Daddy AND Father AND an icon AND candles AND a censor, it had everything you could want!). When Father was chanting, Kittyboy loudly and proudly proclaimed, "I NOT singing with Father! I NOT singing with Father!" because I always have to remind him that we don't sing when Father does, and he wanted to point out that this time, he wasn't! Otherwise I might have missed what a very good boy he was being. Everyone in church knew that Kittyboy was NOT singing with Father.
And halfway through the Gospel, which is a pretty decent length, he requested, "Daddy and Father and the icon go do-o-o-w-w-n and a-a-a-a-round?" EVERYTHING is improved on by a procession. Particularly Gospels that are too long. So then I told him he could walk veeerrry quietly to Daddy and help hold the candle, which he did, and then he went back with Daddy and was helpful the rest of the service.
I love how not knowing Greek is NO barrier to singing along. He can make it sound Greek! Lots of vowels, and things ending in -os and -on and -as and -in. Greek can be totally faked if you have enough enthusiasm and don't care in the slightest how you sound. It's a very joyful noise! For that matter, he doesn't know the English for Holy Week stuff either, but can fake it if enough hymns are in the same tone back to back.
I make sure to tell him often that God loves his enthusiasm and energy!

"Hi!"

2010-03-26T20:21:00.002-05:00

"Hi!" is Kittyboy's favorite greeting. We celebrated early dismissal (spring break for Holy Week! Woohoo!) by going straight to the playground at Washington Park. As usual, Kittyboy said HI with enthusiasm to everyone he passed, including crouching down to politely greet a little baby girl barely walking (OH TO HAVE HAD MY CAMERA OUT). Then he encountered three boys, I'm guessing second grade, who when he said, "HI!!" said, "Uh, hi?" back. Oh my gosh, what fun! New friends (as with many new friends, "they just didn't know it yet")!! He seemed to then make a game of trapping them - say, at the top of ladders - to say "Hi!" again, they would respond "Hi" again, he would laugh and allow them to pass. Hahaha, what fun, we are friends! They come up a ladder, there is Kittyboy! "Hi!" They go down a slide, there is Kittyboy! "Hi!" They were patient, if somewhat befuddled, and took pains to not trip over this STRANGE little boy with a one-word vocabulary. All three went climbing up the tornado slide - two made it, the third went scrambling down again backwards barely ahead of Kittyboy, who was sliding down after him and laughing his fluffy little head off!
Did you know older kids make great TOYS?

And on the lighter side...

2010-03-22T14:02:00.002-05:00

Kittyboy is officially too big for shopping carts. Okay, he's not "too big" for normal-sized ones, but he IS too heavy for me to haul in and out over the handle - I'm five foot tall, he's thirty-four pounds. I just can't heft him up to shoulder height anymore. But he loves to ride. Well, some stores have smaller ones and normal ones, and I grabbed a smaller one by mistake some time last week or the week before. His legs couldn't get in! The seat was just maybe an inch too small in some dimension. Of course, I knew my mistake, but he didn't - I seized opportunity and said, "Well, I guess you just don't fit in carts anymore! Time to be a big boy and walk!" Kind of like hiding the pacifier and saying, "Well, it's lost, guess you'll have to do without!" And since then, I'd not gotten a cart, rather than get one and have the argument over whether he would ride.
Saturday, I had a shopping list, and really needed a cart. Of course he asked to ride, and I reminded him that the last cart Mommy tried to put him in, he hadn't fit, and he just couldn't ride anymore. But he could push! He used to push all the time, he was pushing a full cart at a year and a half. I told him he had a new job because he's SUCH a big boy, he could push the cart and put things in for Mommy. I grabbed some gingersnaps when we first started in, put them in the seat area where he could see them, and said we'd buy them IF and only IF he was a veeeerrrrry good big helper the whole time.
At first, the cart went rocketing willy-nilly down aisles, at a three-year-old's dead run, with me in pursuit, and people ahead of him getting out of the way! After a few aisles, he figured out how to walk with it instead of run. And he was GOOD. He put things in the cart, he only picked up a few things that we weren't getting, and those he put back without complaint. He even put back a huge chocolate bunny he'd grabbed off the shelf (right at his eye level, hahaha, such perfect placement) with a minimum of coaxing. Who knows, maybe he will find that same bunny in his Easter basket, since he was such a good boy!
When we got to the checkout, I handed him things from the cart and he put them on the conveyor belt (had to look funny, considering we were both on the same side of the cart, but it kept him busy and useful) and then he even pushed the cart to the end of the checkout and stood with it!!
I must have caught him at the perfect age where new responsibilities are a wonderful new game, another way to be a Big Boy, so that he never stopped to think - "Wait, I don't get to ride anymore - AND I have to push the cart? How did I get hosed into this?" I told Husband, to be sure we're consistent and that Kittyboy doesn't figure out that he COULD still fit in a cart, that his new job is pushing, period. No more hauling him up to shoulder-level in and out of carts, I just can't do it, pregnant or not.
And what a sweet little helper I have! I can't believe it! That went SO much more smoothly than I expected!

Normalcy.

2010-03-22T13:31:00.002-05:00

I have to say, depression with just cause for such is a new experience. And there does seem to be something freeing about saying, "You know what, there's a perfectly good reason why I don't want to get up in the morning, don't want to do anything when I do get up, and don't want to eat. It's called being in mourning. IT'S NORMAL."
After having rescheduled and adapted the summer and fall around pregnancy, realizing that different arrangements are now unnecessary is depressing. I was looking forward to actually wearing maternity clothes this time around - I'm already back into a skirt I had stopped wearing because it'd gotten a bit too tight. Kittyboy was disappointed when we told him, but not upset - then we went to see a friend's one-week-old and on the way home he suddenly started whining, "Mommy having a babyyyy?" and we had to have That Conversation all over again. It must have sunk in just then, that THAT'S what Mommy was going to have, and now isn't.
We'd also thought that the timing of this pregnancy was just perfect. PERFECT. Our insurance, as sucky as it is, had an out-of-pocket maximum that would have been met in the first couple of appointments and scans and whatnot - the rest of my pregnancy, INCLUDING hospital stay for however long it took, the caeserian, NICU stay if necessary, would have been covered (I called and asked them this when we were first pregnant, just in case we would need to save our tax return for medical bills). We know we'll have this insurance until the end of the year - we don't know if next year Husband's company will have decided it's cheaper to pay fines than cover insurance, and we'll be on lovely wonderful Medicaid, oh I mean socialized healthcare, and who knows what THEY'LL cover, not that I'm bitter about yesterday or anything.
Given the fact that, well, nothing's "leaving" yet, and my getting back into this skirt, I wonder if I'm reabsorbing instead of having a normal miscarriage. It's unlikely, but theoretically possible, and the only reason I can think of why my waist is maybe as much as an inch smaller without ANY bleeding whatsoever.
That's something else depressing - going back into the same clothes as before, like everything's just back to normal, when it's not and it shouldn't be and I'm supposed to be having a baby and I'm not.

Sad news.

2010-03-16T20:33:00.002-05:00

The word "news" has been in all my latest blog posts, hasn't it? It's all about things changing, for good or otherwise.
We had our first sonogram today. It was our first appointment, I was all excited to get "baby pictures". The exam and all went smoothly, we liked the doctor (whom we were meeting for the first time) and he ordered three pages worth of labs gearing up for this somewhat exciting pregnancy. Then he sent us for the sonogram. The tech found my uterus, then said hesitantly that she could see the yolk sac but the baby wasn't eight weeks. "Okay, so we figured the due date wrong." That happens, it's cool, right? She kept looking and looking. She called in another doctor. Turned out that what she was looking for and not finding was - a heartbeat. I think she and the doctor must have said it four or five times, different ways, that this baby had no heartbeat. Heart should have been beating. Wasn't. No heartbeat. There should be one. There isn't. Baby measures 7 weeks. At 7 weeks there should be a heartbeat. We can't find one. I was just staring at the monitor thinking this was impossible. I was pregnant! There was a baby! I was throwing up in the morning as recently as Sunday!
The tech, perhaps at a loss for what else to do, got our new OB. Looking back, I feel really sorry for him. He looked about as young as the med student who was shadowing him, and it can't be news that he often has to discuss. When he came in, he looked as blank and shocked as we were (as the DOCTOR in the room, that can't be a good feeling). He said it was a "missed miscarriage", that this happens spontaneously and without known cause in about 1 in 4 pregnancies in the first trimester, that there was nothing anyone "did wrong" to cause it, that it should have no bearing on future fertility, etc. He ran out of things to say.
He added that sometimes the very early ones (there's no way to know, but sometimes...) are because of very serious chromosomal problems, and that it would be better for it to happen now than later, when it would be harder. I started breathing deeply and resisting the temptation to do or say something I would regret (Husband said afterward that in fact I had looked homicidal). Doctor looked rather anxious - my guess is he realized that perhaps between inexperience with miscarriages and the fact that his first language was demonstrably not English, he had gravely misspoken - and restated. He was not saying, "The baby might have had problems anyway, better to not carry it," which is what I had essentially heard. He explained that there can be problems SO grave that the baby would not have lived long even IN the womb, and that miscarrying at 7 weeks is relatively easier - on the mother's body, at least - than at 15 or 20 weeks when there is a body of more significant size to be dealt with. And the early-early miscarriages that are never explained include those, though there's no way to know how frequently.
Okay, so he meant well, he probably doesn't often get called into a patient's first sono to explain a lack of heartbeat, and he has not been at this long. There's not much you CAN say. Husband found something online, anecdotal, about not finding a heartbeat at seven weeks and finding one later, but I didn't have a shred of morning sickness yesterday or this morning, and felt ill this afternoon. Pretty sure the doctor is right.

Good preschool news!

2010-03-12T23:24:00.002-06:00

Starting Monday, Kittyboy can have his cake and eat it too! (though I made the mistake of using those exact words in his presence, and he was confused and disappointed that CAKE was not actually happening).
Several e-mails were exchanged over the course of the week - Kittyboy's not BEEN to school since Monday because he either didn't sleep or had tummy troubles - and he will be starting next Monday in the afternoon class. He gets all morning with Daddy - gets to take Daddy to work - and THEN gets to go to school! It'll be with slightly older kids, but as his teacher said, "He does show us every day that he's got some awesome skills," so he'll fit right in. She got right on the question of whether he could move to afternoon, bringing it up with the special ed director, possibly because I said "If he can't move or the move doesn't solve the problem, I can always homeschool." Of course he's fine AT school. School is fun. He likes it, every morning he's happy to go. It's when he gets out and finds that once again, he's missed out on the whole morning and Daddy's already gone, that we have a problem. Seemed like every day was a new day, and every day he was let down all over again, and it just accumulated, and built-up stress can make you sick. Tuesday we kept him home because he slept so little the night before, and Thursday night, he was asleep just fine with no problem and slept through the night. Happier, too. And when he went to the doctor Wednesday and we explained EVERYTHING, the doctor said he didn't look or act sick - but that when doctor came in the room, Kittyboy (curled up on Daddy's lap) just kinda looked depressed. Interesting off-the-cuff observation. And he said absolutely, stressful changes can wreak havoc in little kids, and it all sounded like psychosomatic symptoms from stress. "Is he clingy at home? Fussy, hard to please?" Hoooo yeah. And then Thursday and Friday, he was SO HAPPY. I told him today that starting Monday, he could go back to school, but he would have all morning with Daddy and take Daddy to work and THEN go to school, and he was just thrilled to little boyish bits.
As far as nap-time - nap? What nap? He barely does anymore anyway. And he'll be home before 4, he'll have time for one before dinner.
Ahhh - thank God!

I hate preschool.

2010-03-08T19:59:00.004-06:00

Okay, the whole speech-improving thing has happened. Kittyboy is now his own narrator. Not necessarily a coherent one, but it helps to know his books and viewing habits, and it's so funny that he just talks ALL THE TIME. He talks to his toys, his toys talk to him, his toys talk to each other, sometimes everything and everyone is apparently talking at once, and he talked for a non-verbal friend at the playground. He said "Hi!", boy said nothing. Mom said boy doesn't really talk yet. So Kittyboy helped out. "Hi!" Silence. "Hewwo, what you doing? I cimbing! See you yator!" And I laugh in the face of the "but he won't be socialized!" argument against homeschooling. I have watched him at the playground, and he appears to be the friendliest and most outgoing child there. I love watching him run up to older kids (kids who've probably been in daycare, gone to preschool, etc), say "Hi!" and get NO RESPONSE. I tell him that they've just not learned social skills yet. :)
But we're what, four weeks in? And every afternoon, without fail, we have the same conversation. "Daddy?" "Daddy's at work." "Daddy not be at work?" "Daddy has to be at work. Daddy is at work every day when you get out of school." "Daddy be at Mommy-Daddy House?" Every single day at noon, since school started. "School", if you can call it that, takes place from 9:30-12. Husband works at 12, until 9 at night. Kittyboy goes to bed between 7 and 8. So basically, he doesn't GET Daddy during the week, but for maaaybe two hours first thing in the morning. And he's not "getting over it" or adjusting, he's increasing the requests. It's not getting better. It's getting sadder.
Last week, it got a LOT worse - he started having problems going to sleep. He would cry again and again to be rewrapped, wrapped tighter, his legs weren't wrapped tightly enough, he wanted the light on, bedtime took forever and was a mess. Friday night after Akathist, friend Peyton was over and I was going to put him down for bed and then go to get Husband. I ended up taking him along to get Husband, because bed was not happening. This was not an over-tired, whiny, I-want-to-get-up cry that you could let go. He would eventually be coughing and gasping for breath. And he kept asking to go to the hospital.
Only, ONLY way the hospital request makes any sense is when you consider the following - last time he went to the hospital, the Benadryl incident, Husband was at work with the car. And had to come home in order to take us. He wanted Daddy. He also started wanting me to be in the same room with him, just for the sake of being in the same room, and Saturday required me to sit on his bed until he fell asleep for a nap. It's been over half his lifetime since he's NEEDED someone in his room to fall asleep.
When Kittyboy was not quite a year old and decided overnight that I couldn't put him down, his wise, wise therapists Rhonda and Janna basically said, "Then, don't put him down." For reasons we didn't know, he needed extra security, and should be given whatever he needed for as long as he needed it. And I stubbornly followed that advice until one day, presto, he decided he could be with someone else and was fine with that. So obviously, if he needs extra again because he doesn't have Daddy, we'll give him that extra. Husband fixed up a small table and repaired the switch on a Noah's Ark nightlight we hadn't used since Kittyboy was very small, and Kittyboy was quite thrilled when he got home from school today. I gushed to him that DADDY had made him a little green table! (his favorite color is green, he told us yesterday) And put a light on it! And the light has animals on it! And DADDY did this just for HIM, so he can have a light on if he wants to go to sleep with a light on! DADDY is just so wonderful! So I told him he could even eat his lunch sitting at his little green table with his Ark light, and he thought that was wonderful! And then he asked "Eat with Daddy??" Sigh. So we had "that" conversation Yet Again. I am very, very ready to be done with it.
But he IS asleep tonight. Without a hitch, and he decided he didn't need a light after all. So we can just do WHATEVER he needs until June, and if it does eventually come to me sitting on his bed until he falls asleep, I'm cool with that. But come June 1, June 8 at the latest if they need ALL their snow days (they haven't used one yet to my knowledge), we're done. Between the fact that he doesn't get Daddy during the week, and the fact that one of the words in his "vocab list" the week before last was "wheel"... and discussing the fact that wheels are circles (call the NY Times!!), this is just not working for us. I did have fun quizzing him on the way home that day, though - "Honey, do you know what a WHEEL is?" "Yup!" (I love when he says "yup"). "Well then! And do you know what a BUS is?" He pointed out the car window - "City bus!" (he's a veteran of those). On another block - "Schoo' bus!" Academically, it's not like he's missing anything (I giggle as I type that). I pulled up the academic standards for kindergarten - he's well on track, especially in the area of language, WOW. He knew which direction books went in probably a year ago. He wasn't two yet when you could hand him any book with print on the front and back, and he would turn it right side up. This applied to manga (Japanese comic books, they go right to left) as well, because what he was doing was orienting it so that the front cover was face up and right side up, regardless of how the book opened. We were fascinated, and so a few months later, we handed him a manga again, and got quite a kick out of his puzzlement. He'd figured out since the first time, that books should open on the right side, and so he oriented the manga correctly and then it didn't open where he thought it should. Very confusing when you're two. Silly non-Western languages that go backwards.
I'll print them (the kindergarten standards) out and use them as a rough guideline. When he meets them, print out first grade, and so on. No more preschool. He needs Daddy, and he doesn't need to be told what a wheel is.

Now THAT'S a nightmare.

2010-02-28T21:31:00.003-06:00

Husband's alarm went off, like it always does. I rolled over and saw him shut it off, then heard some kids running through the house yelling, "Fire!" Half-awake dreams involving kids are nothing new, three years working for SCOPE seems to have scarred me for life. But the yells of "fire" sparked a nagging fear, pun intended, and I tried to get Husband and say, "Please humor me and just make sure nothing's burning." He often humors my half-awake whims, mainly because I need him to - I don't give him peace until he does. But when I opened my mouth, nothing came out.
Still not alarmed (apart from the irrationally strong urge to make sure nothing was on fire), because I've been having sinus problems and was bound to wake up voiceless one of these mornings.
But then there was suddenly a man standing by Husband's side of the bed. Door to the room is on my side - he didn't come through it. He also didn't come through a window. He was just THERE. But he couldn't be. And while I was moving my mouth silently, trying to get Husband's attention and ask "Is there really a man there???" and failing because I couldn't talk or move, the man answered the question - he shook his head slowly. And smiled.
Hallucinations are a particular horror of mine. In grade-school I was prescribed a medication that has hallucinations as a side effect if you're allergic - which I apparently was. Saw very menacing furry little men and a lobster that varied between spaniel-size and pony-size. Saw them A LOT. "It can't really be there" is not a comforting thought, it's my worst nightmare.
I turned my head, and on my side of the room, there was a silent young woman in a long white nightgown. Okay, I've seen horror movies, I've seen most of "The Ring", and women in long white gowns better be real, talking, and not appearing in my bedroom. She laid down on the floor. And swam under my side of the bed.
I turned again to Husband, out of my head now, and he wasn't there. Someone else was. Or he was someone else, somehow. I looked back at the side of the bed - and the woman's very pale, very thin hands were clawing at the mattress by my feet.

I had a LOT of nightmares when I was younger, and I worked on conscious ways to make myself wake up. Even if your dream body has mobility, your real body doesn't, and forcing real movement will wake you up eventually if you can manage it, so I would try with all my might to blink my REAL eyes, really hard, again and again, or move my real lips, something. It feels profoundly strange, because once you get something moving, you feel like you have two bodies, the one in the dream and the one horizontal, trying its darndest to blink, and whatever you're really moving has practically no muscle behind it. And without even thinking about it, I was trying with everything I had, to move my hand. I realized I what I was doing when my fist started just barely tapping Husband's back. Just barely. My arm felt so dead that the effort actually hurt. Thankfully he felt it, and rolled over to ask, "Honey, are you okay?" which woke me up enough to gasp "NO I'M NOT!!!!"

That is THE most terrified I have been in a LONG time.

A "Treat" Day

2010-02-28T19:37:00.005-06:00

Friday, Kittyboy just happened to be clean and dry ALL DAY. FIRST TIME EVER. We had already planned on going to Kids Fest downtown, but hadn't told him yet, so we told him Saturday morning that we were going somewhere special, BECAUSE he was such a big boy and had been clean and dry all the day before.
I forgot what awful lighting and acoustics Prairie Capital Convention Center has - but he didn't get upset by the crowds or noise or anything, he warmed up at his own pace and then had fun. Kids Fest is way cooler than we had realized. The businesses that had booths there had little free things for the kids, or games to play. He got to sit in a go-cart, look in a monster truck, and touch a race car. There were three bounce house things - one just a bounce thing, one an inflatable obstacle course, and one an inflatable climbing wall with a slide on the other side. The lines for all of those were RIGHT next to the speakers and stage, and he was cool with that. He petted a VERY large and fluffy dog at the APL booth and let it sniff him. And Kittyboy, unlike many three-year-olds, is TOTALLY cool with mascots in huge costumes!! He liked those, he ran up and gave them hugs! When we first came in, they had an ambulance and police car with the lights on, and he didn't want anything to do with that (they might have been going to start the sirens, for all he knew!), but after doing the inflatable climbing-and-sliding thing, he ran right over and climbed in the ambulance and stared in adorable boyish awe at the cruiser and everything. We heard an announcement about "DePriest Puppets" and didn't give it much thought - we assumed they were just regular hand-puppets, and he was having fun with other stuff - but we stumbled onto the puppet show while looking for a bathroom. They were real marionettes! Whole people and animals with limbs, dancing on nearly invisible strings. Kittyboy eyed the puppeteer cautiously at first, since his prior experience with puppets consists of Stromboli in "Pinocchio". "Excuse me sir, are you a villain? Just checking, you know, puppets and all..." One of the puppets was a trapeze artist - yes, with a trapeze, swinging from it, hanging by her toes from it and all. It was AWESOME. The last puppet was Smiley the Clown, who came out to wave at the children, sit on their laps, and give them hugs. Kittyboy is conclusively NOT scared of clowns, and gave Smiley a big enthusiastic hug with a big grin. And with ALL this craziness going on, he was dry when we finally found a bathroom!! And he WENT in the strange public bathroom he'd never been in before!!
So then we were leaving and it was almost 1, and Husband had the idea of going to The Pizza Machine - which we didn't know is like a Chuck E Cheese. Loudness and kids running and flashy lights and music and games and things going on all over the place. And he was cool with THAT. And went in the bathroom there, and was STILL dry.
He just had the Special Day to end all special days. I found Monsters Inc on VHS in a thrift store, and we watched that after dinner. A MOVIE, while finishing his leftover pizza. How much more
decadent can you get!
Wonder how many pullups will fall apart from abuse before I actually feel confident putting him in underwear... Those disposable pullups do not last a day's worth of pulling up and pushing down.

Boy, you best start getting happy...

2010-02-24T17:15:00.003-06:00

My Grandpa Speed, who sadly died when I was six, is famous in our family for phrases such as "that's not a reason, that's an excuse", and "you have ten seconds to get happy." Get Happy has always been my favorite.
This afternoon, Kittyboy was two things - tired and needing a nap, and very aggravated with his train set not doing what he wanted it to. Three o'clock is the witching hour, when he needs a nap, doesn't want a nap, and in fact is likely to gain a second wind by four o'clock, so unless you're really, REALLY sure of success, you'll only spend an hour fighting if you try to make him TAKE a nap, and then he won't have taken one, and you'll both be out of sorts. So at the time of this incident, it was 3 p.m., and so he was fussy to begin with.
AND, he was mad at his train. He was trying to make the engine and both cars AND ambulance AND fire truck (which have the same wheel base, so they can be driven on the tracks, but of course they don't hook up with the train) all be a big train and go up the ramp together, and it wasn't working. He started whining and crying and scattering the train parts around. I kept telling him it wasn't GOING to work, which (like all great innovators), he didn't find helpful. I asked him (because sometimes this works!) "Are you tired? Would you like a nap?"
"*sniff sniff* No take a nap? No go to sleep??"
"But you seem so tired and unhappy. I think you need a nap."
"You no need a nap???" (he's using "you" again when he's tired)
Sigh. And out of my mouth comes, very sweetly, "Well, here are your choices. You can take a nap, or you can get happy."
"*sniff sniff* You get happy *sniff* okay."
AND HE DID. He sniffed a few times and went back to lining up his "train plus two" for, oh, the tenth time or so. Once again, the whole line jackknifed halfway up the ramp. Cue tears and scattering of cars.
"Do you need a nap?"
"NO NEED A NAP!!!"
"Okay then, get happy."
"*sniff* get happy *sniff* okay."
I think it was probably the twelfth or thirteenth try that he figured out in what order he could line up the train and emergency vehicles so that they ACTUALLY DID MAKE IT UP THE RAMP. They fell all apart on the other side, but success was his. They had made it up the ramp. He's probably the next Edison.
And of course, he'll never again believe me when I tell him "it won't work".
I just love that "get happy" actually works. You could write a whole book on parenting philosophy entitled "You've Got Ten Seconds to Get Happy".
Turned out I actually should have pushed the issue with the nap - at ten til four, there was no second wind in sight, and so now he's going to wake up for dinner only an hour before bedtime and that won't be good. But you never can tell how it's going to go at 3 p.m. That's why I call it the witching hour.

Lent and Patience

2010-02-23T21:06:00.002-06:00

I'm trying, most strenuously, to do two major things this Lent - potty-train a three-year-old (coming up on 3 years and 2 months) who doesn't appear to be motivated by ANYTHING, and clean a house in spite of said toddler's bathrooming habits, in preparation for my "confinement" with the Sibling.
The cleaning is going VERY well, despite my worst fears. The potty-training is going HORRIBLY, despite my best efforts.
I have found and maintained, so far, a dining room table, part of a front-room desk, a nursery floor, and partial floors in the family room and master bedroom. Kittyboy IS trained in cleaning his room (sorta-kinda, better trained than either of his parents actually), and so the nursery is off my list (until the time comes to rearrange and squeeze in a crib). Alternatively, we could move Kittyboy's stuff AND the crib, and all baby stuff, into the family room, though that would mean heavy draperies on a massive amount of windows. I'll have to draw up floor plans for the nursery (which would then be office and family room), and current family room, and see if that would work better. It would definitely be the longer-term solution. Biting my tongue when Husband leaves something out on a space I'm trying desperately to maintain, but I can do this. I can do this. "I can do this" is my mantra.
Kittyboy lost all but maybe five books, of his large library, by dropping them behind his bed. Now that his bed is a heavy wooden frame and not a mattress and boxspring on the floor, it's one heck of a hassle to retrieve them, so we said anything that went behind, went up on a high shelf, and he couldn't have them. Got down to FIVE books. So I decided after a while, when he finally started asking for them, that he could earn them back by being dry all day. He earned back two. Now the one up for earning is the big Milne/Shepard "Winnie the Pooh" - and it's been up on display as a reward for two days now. Tomorrow is Day 3 - for one of the most coveted books he lost. He doesn't even have to be clean and dry at school, there's 2.5 hours of the day he has a pass on, because he might need to go and not remember to ask, you know? Just in the morning before we take him, and from getting home again until dinner. And it's not happening. Apparently there is NOTHING ON THIS PLANET he wants badly enough to sit on the toilet if he's busy doing something. NOTHING ON THIS PLANET. It is beyond discouraging. He is SO fully capable. He just - doesn't feel like it.
And above all, I resolved (as I do every year) to improve control of my temper. For Lent. While increasing my patience.
Lent is way, way, way too short for this to happen.

Sunday of Orthodoxy!

2010-02-21T13:49:00.002-06:00

Grabbed the above picture with my phone after church was over, of Kittyboy with his St. Patrick icon. He has bread in his mouth, which is why he didn't smile, which I found out afterwards when I asked him to smile! :)
Last year, we couldn't get him to hold his icon facing out, because then he couldn't see it, and what was the point if he couldn't see it? So this morning we practiced at home, holding it UP and OUT so EVERYONE could see St. Patrick! And he walked holding his daddy's finger and was very good.

"As the Prophets beheld,
As the Apostles taught,
As the Church received,
As the Teachers dogmatized,
As the Universe agreed,
As Grace illumined,
As the Truth revealed,
As falsehood passed away,
As Wisdom presented,
As Christ awarded,

Thus we declare,
Thus we assert,
Thus we proclaim Christ our true God
and honor His saints,

In words,
In writings,
In thoughts,
In sacrifices,
In churches,
In holy icons.

On the one hand, worshiping and reverencing Christ as God and Lord.
And on the other hand, honoring and venerating His Saints as true servants of the same Lord.

This is the Faith of the Apostles.
This is the Faith of the Fathers.
This is the Faith of the Orthodox.
This is the Faith which has established the Universe."

I love that prayer! I want to memorize it. Maybe I should spend Lent memorizing it, with Kittyboy learning the Lord's Prayer - he's been saying bits of it with me in church.
Info on Sunday of Orthodoxy from OrthoWiki here.
Info from me (last year's post) here.
NOW it's starting to really feel like Lent - what with the first Akathist hymn (my favorite part of Lent) Friday and the procession of icons today!
Kali Sarakosti! ("a good forty days")

And so I am...

2010-02-20T09:48:00.003-06:00

Last week or so, I have been waking up hungry, getting hungry again before lunch, hungry again before dinner, and I even got up after midnight one night to eat SOMETHING, ANYTHING, because I was starving and my stomach hurt.
I'm not a breakfast person, and I've been known to not eat before 1 or 2 if I don't get around to it. I'm really tired of eating already.
And plus, I've been waking up at around 5 a.m. to kick off covers because I'm soaked and baking. It's like waking up in a sauna. Unfortunately, I then can't sleep anymore, because I can't sleep without covers.
Imagine how tired I will be in, oh, nine months.
Yup! I'm pregnant!
:) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)
First order of business is making myself a lightly weighted "blanket", same type as Kittyboy's, just pellets and fabric, in the hopes that under and only that, I will not get so hot. I've just got to have something with substance on me to sleep! Second order of business is cleaning my house over the next four months, so that I can lay down as much as possible for the next five after that.
And some time, I need to come up with a list of people who can be called if I need a ride to the hospital and Husband is in work. Sadly, two out of the three names that first came to mind don't own cars. Darn it. Need friends with cars.
Although, if it comes down to it, that's what taxis are for, although I would then have to take Kittyboy along into the ER or wherever. So ideally, friends with cars. In town.
We'll figure it out.
Kittyboy was with me when I bought the pregnancy test. I told him we were looking for something to tell us whether Mommy was having a baby, and explained where babies come from (mommies! In somewhat the area of our tummies!), and he was quite taken with the idea of having His Very Own Baby. So then I found the tests, and picked one up off the shelf, and with a delighted giggle he snatched it from my hands and turned it over - and stared blankly with puzzlement at something that looked not in the slightest like a baby. What did THIS have to do with babies? "I pway wiff baby?" I explained again that babies don't come in little white boxes from the Walmart pharmacy, and IF there was a baby on the way for us, it was in ME. It had to grow inside me. He looked at my stomach. He didn't look convinced. "Baby gwow in Mommy HOUSE...?" "Well, yes, when Mommy is IN her house, because... babies grow in mommies." I guess he thought that was a pretty boring way to grow a baby. Can't see it or play with it or anything! But he has accepted that there is a baby in Mommy, and so we cannot "boom" Mommy or be rough with her, because babies are delicate and (at this age) VERY little, and we do not boom them (booming meaning pushing onto his bed to bounce).
Imagine what fun he'll have at an ultrasound!! I can't wait!

Tis the Season for Sauerkraut...

2010-02-16T20:11:00.003-06:00

I have resolved that this year, we WILL do the Lenten fast, all three of us, to the same uniform standard, with the exception of Kittyboy having eggs and dairy. He loves eggs, cheese and peanut butter, he in fact WAS a vegetarian (who ate eggs, fish and cheese) until he was two, and his diet and nutrition have never been an issue, so it's not unthinkable that he also could give up meat for Lent.
What exactly the uniform standard will be, I haven't fleshed out yet. Husband and I have been just awful the last couple years, starting Advent 06 when I was pregnant, so we're easing back into it.
Of course, if I'm pregnant again, this all goes out the window.
Sauerkraut sandwiches for dinner last night, bean soup tonight. I have canned 12 pints of beans so far. Why would I can dried beans, when they store so well dried? Because I have horrible luck with getting every bean in the pot completely cooked, and because they take so long to cook. So I just can a pound at a time, which yields 4 pints. Figure a pound costs a dollar (at least red, black, and pinto beans, generally), that's 16 oz of beans for $0.25 plus the cost of a lid - pretty sweet. Not to mention there's no salt unless you add it!
The technique I found at pickyourown.org is REALLY easy, too. Boil the beans for about 2 minutes - I do five - let soak for an hour (or two, or six) - boil again with FRESH water for half an hour, then jar up and process at 10 pounds, 75 minutes for pints, or 10 pounds and 90 minutes for quarts.
I tend to play fast and loose with the soaking times, because it's an easy project to start midday, but I try not to can when Kittyboy's awake. He has a thing about the noise the canner makes when it's venting.

A Bookbag for Kittyboy

2010-02-16T10:30:00.003-06:00

Do you know how hard it is to find bookbags in February? So I made one. I had a piece of cream and red striped fabric, kind of a canvas-type cloth, that I thought would be cute, and I hadn't played on my sewing machine for a while. So here it is!
I made it entirely last night. Miss K said at the parent-teacher conference yesterday that starting this Wednesday, he would be bringing home a folder weekly, and so a bookbag would be good to have, but those are scarce this time of year, and they're all huge, bulky, and branded. He doesn't know who Spiderman IS, for crying out loud.

I made it a pillowcase, then cut down the sides about three inches and folded them under so drawstrings could go threw. Had I been planning ahead, of course, I would have just left the top three inches unsewn... but it worked anyway.
I had Husband buy black grosgrain ribbon, an inch wide (I thought just going with black would be easier than matching reds), and cut two big chunks (since I didn't know how much I would need), sewed the end of one to the bottom of the bag, threaded it through one side of the open seam at the top and back through the other. Did the same on the opposite side. Then I had to make some judgement calls as to how long to sew them - I didn't want the arm straps to be WAY long, he's short, but it has to open far enough to put a folder in. I think they ended up being a good length...
And there is some hanging on each side (I finished off the ends), so if he needs it longer I can just take a seam ripper and undo the top stitches and re-sew.

And he likes it!
I'm definitely going to do this again!!! Just think, a reusable shopping bag you can wear on your back!

Today, I threw a tantrum...

2010-02-15T21:04:00.000-06:00

...and told Kittyboy I am no longer picking up after him.
You cannot picture the disaster he creates in ONE DAY. Folded linens and blankets off the foot of the bed, EVERYTHING off the bed, toys all over, books all over, no floor visible. We're talking, 4-6" deep of no floor visible.
I told him HE and only HE was picking up his room. I sat on his bed and directed - for an hour. "Monster truck, under the rocking chair - under the rocking chair - next to the school bus, under the rocking chair - yes that. To the vehicle box. Vehicle box. Yes! Now the shirt. Shirt. Gray shirt. By the shelves. By your foot. UNDER your foot. Look down. Shirt. Gray shirt. YES. Take to the bathroom - and come back." Long hour. Long, long hour. But, he did it! I refolded what had been folded, because he can't do that, but HE got all his bedding - pillows, sheet, 8 lb blanket AND huge comforter - back on his bed, and I made him straighten them out himself. Straightening the sheet involved several games of peekaboo, as he threw it over his head and then pulled it off to flatten it out, and his face was so serious the whole time, it was all I could do not to laugh. Then he climbed back down, grabbed the corner of the weighted blanket, and could only get the corner up to the edge of the mattress on the first try. He grabbed it lower and tried again. After a few tries, he got enough of a corner on top of the mattress that it didn't fall all the way down again, so then he scrambled back up, sat on the mattress, and started hauling hand over hand. I kept waiting for him to get frustrated, and was going to prompt him to ask for help, but he got the entire thing up. And straightened it out.
I did help straighten the big comforter, that was too big for him. But YAY for the three-year-old picking up his own room!!!

Trying out my Valentine's gift...

2010-02-14T20:07:00.004-06:00

My Husband, the most wonderful spouse ever, said a few weeks ago that we would sell my iphone and get a Nokia of my choosing (within, you know, a reasonable price range). And Saturday, we were on the interstate at 7:30 a.m., headed to 543 N Michigan Ave, Chicago, the NOKIA STORE.
Friday night, Husband showed me a virtual tour of the store, so Saturday morning felt like Christmas! (Nokia E75)
My new phone! My new toy! I love-love-love it!! More later!

Update on Mrs. Frank

2010-02-12T20:18:00.002-06:00

Helen is out of the hospital and will be in a nursing home while her leg mends. God is good - I was having trouble imagining even a half-way good prognosis for a woman her age, in her health, with shattered bones. So this is good news and a blessing.
Thank you for your prayers!

First Week of School

2010-02-11T20:28:00.003-06:00

Monday - walked the Kittyboy in thinking we were late, and no, the bus was late. We hung around about ten minutes trying to get him settled in and happy. That wasn't happening, because we weren't leaving him in the way-cool classroom with the big trucks and big dollhouse and all the awesome toys, we were leaving him in a gymnasium with a lot of other little kids running around being really loud. The other only time he's been in a gym with kids loudly running, he was walking through the gym at the school where he was getting speech, and he cried the length of it - and went on and on, the rest of the day, about "da gym SOOO YOUD!!!" One sweet little boy, who was adorably determined, repeatedly took his hand (or wrist, firmly, after the first couple times), and lead him away from us. Like clockwork, about three yards out, Kittyboy would tear free from his new friend - or was it "fan"? - and run back crying. After a lot of that, we just handed him to his teacher Miss K, and left. Could hear him out through the fire door and down the sidewalk.
When I picked him up, he was all smiles! Miss K said after about 7-8 minutes, he calmed down, and was happy the rest of the morning. He chattered all the way to the car, and as I buckled him in, I asked, "So did you make any friends today?" He thought for a moment, and said decisively, "No Mommy." And went on chattering, but WOW! A yes/no answer, straightforward and without repeating a single word of my question!! Sweet!
Oh, and we sang "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" all afternoon and evening. Boy, does he like that song now! I figured they sang it in class or something...
So Tuesday morning, we said, "Hey, you're going to play in the gym when we get there, right?" and he seemed to be okay with that, but then when we got there, "okay" was not it. I commented on "Twinkle Star Music" as he calls it, and she said, "Oh, that was sooo cute. All the other kids were all around him when he was crying in the gym, just hugging him and loving on him, trying to cheer him up, and Mrs. B suggested they sing to him. And they all sang 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' to cheer him up!" I just love that mental picture, don't you? He was crying when we left again, but once again was happy when I picked him up - and better yet, was DRY ALL MORNING!
Wednesday morning, Kittyboy ran eagerly into the gym - which was empty! ALL buses were late! (Buses being ridiculously late was the theme of the week, seriously - hour and ten minutes one afternoon, Miss K said). Kittyboy immediately ran out again, his lip quivering. Here he was finally all geared up to play *sniff* and he had no one to play with *sniff sniff* and it was very sad! He grabbed the teacher's hand and ran back in. Playmate found, problem solved!
And Wednesday afternoon, he called himself "I" so many times in a row, I was afraid to say ANYTHING lest he revert to the echoing "you"!
Mrs. B also told me that he is just WILDLY popular with her class, they all just adore him and want him to play with them. SO FUNNY.
This morning, he ran into the living room, saw a cat on the trampoline where he wanted to jump, and said "Get off the trampoline!" After we laughed, we realized that he had just said a whole sentence declaring what he wanted. One thing that kinda annoys me - documented by Those Who Evaluate in his district speech eval - is that instead of saying, "Can I have ___" or "I want ___" or "I don't want", "This isn't working", "I broke this" or whatever, he will label the object ("Kitty??") and make you guess what he wants. "Do you want Kitty to come to you? Do you want Kitty to move?" and in this case he would have said "Kitty? Trampoline? Kitty on the trampoline?" and from the whiny tone, we would figure out that he wanted Kitty OFF the trampoline. Yeah, it can often be just as tiresome and annoying as that sounds.
"Get off the trampoline!" Now THAT is communication! We can work on niceties later.
One possible reason I can think of why his speech is already changing in FOUR DAYS of preschool is that I remember the EC people mentioned "role-playing" as a common exercise for practicing conversation and social interaction (I know, that sounds so artificial, doesn't it?). Maybe he's a kinetic learner and that's just right up his alley. Or maybe when he hears conversations back and forth between other kids and the teacher and aide, over and over, now it's actually clicking. My mom said, "Well, you were an only child at that age, and you were home with me all day long, and you didn't have that problem" but maybe if a kid has trouble getting personal pronouns, for example, one-on-one is just not as efficient at correcting it as a whole group - where EVERYONE calls themselves "I" and the others "you", over and over. I was slow to talk, but I will bet I didn't call myself "you"! I think my mom would have remembered that if I had!
Tomorrow they're off school, Monday they're off school, and Monday we have a conference with the teacher where I am going to ask, "What on earth do you do, and how can I reinforce it at home?"

This post seems to have deleted itself from Blogspot...

2010-02-08T19:11:00.001-06:00

Helen is the wife of our wonderful chanter Pete Frank. She's weathered cancer and I don't know what else, and had a bad fall on the ice Friday afternoon. She's at St. John's, some bones are shattered, and they can't operate. She and Pete have been married 68 years. Please pray.
(anyone else had a post mysteriously disappear? wrote it this morning, this evening it was GONE - but it was up long enough to import to my Facebook page...)

Sunday, Super Bowl, School

2010-02-07T23:51:00.002-06:00

Kittyboy was so spectacularly good in church today - we only left once, and that was to go to the bathroom. Such a good boy! Books, not toys, are the key! He's also learned how to kneel on a kneeler!
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YEAH SAINTS!!!!! WOOOHOOOO!!!! Sooooo very very very happy. The Colts beat the Bears, the Saints beat the Colts, all is right with the world. Plus, as a Cubbie, I have to love a team that hadn't yet BEEN to the Super Bowl, AND WON their first ever time.
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Husband is trying to track down something called "Clorox Anywhere" as part of Kittyboy's school supply list. Apparently that's hard to find. Tomorrow morning, I have to figure out what to DO with two and a half hours toddler-less. I just can't think of anything...

School starts Monday!

2010-02-05T20:04:00.002-06:00

There was a very good reason Miss K wasn't calling me back - it's even better than "I'm sorry, they didn't tell me I had a voice-mail box." There's no phone in her classroom. Yeah, we both had a long and good laugh about that!! Used to be people had phones and no voice-mail; now, we have voice-mail without phones to answer!
Wednesday evening Husband brought in the mail, with lo and behold! a flier for an all-day open house Thursday. We were there bright and chipper at 9:30 that morning, and met Miss K and Mrs. Z, teacher and aide in a very small classroom with a LOT of toys. Kittyboy split his time between some huge toy trucks and a dollhouse roughly two feet tall. Another boy's parents came in a few minutes later, and Kittyboy got to practice sharing. The other boy took all the construction guys out of the other trucks, put them all in the toy school bus, and was giving them a ride around the carpet - with Kittyboy chasing him on all fours, trying to get the guys back to put them back in the trucks. That was a hoot, honestly. This should be interesting.
I like both Miss K and Mrs. Z, nice ladies. Feitshans is a uniform school (ROCK ON!!) and tomorrow I'm going through Kittyboy's wardrobe for all solid-color or striped polos and t-shirts, and khaki or navy pants, to make sure he's got a week's worth of school clothes. I remember being a kindergartener at Visitation (parochial school) and envying the "big girls" in their plaid jumpers. And being soooo happy and proud to be wearing my own blue-and-white plaid jumper and white blouse when I entered first grade.
I don't know how you reconcile being pro-homeschooling and pro-uniforms, but - I am. Totally.
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I made myself some bracelets today, big clunky cuff bracelets, using cross-sections of plastic bottles, strips of cloth, and superglue. I'll have to take pictures, I LOVE these. I've been wanting that type of bracelet, but didn't want to pay much for something so quickly in and out of style. So now I can make ones that look however I want for free! I love being crafty!
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Potty training, not going so hot. I've come up with a variety of inducements for various milestones - huh. We'll see. Rather discouraged. Ah well - by age five he'll be able to change his own pull-up, so less work for me.

Communication Issues!

2010-02-02T17:37:00.003-06:00

And I'm not talking about Kittyboy, either, I'm talking about great big grown-ups who have full command of the English language!!
Back in December, when Kittyboy was getting his IEP, aging out of EI, and on the waiting list for an EC classroom - I know so many acronyms - they offered us the option of starting therapy while we waited for a classroom to open up. I should have jumped on it. Instead, we said, "Oh, we may as well wait for the classroom, no point in getting him started with someone and then have to change all over again." It was going to be hard enough to go from his weekly therapists whom he knew, to a teacher he wouldn't, I didn't want to throw in another therapist to whom he'd have to say goodbye as well. At the time, that was a reasonable decision. Then it was mid-late January, I was hearing nothing, no one knew ANYTHING about when a teacher would be hired or classroom found, and they offered again to set him up with at least speech, sort of "outpatient" as it were, and I said yes. So last Wed, he saw his "new" therapist for the first time. It went, meh, okay.
I got a phone call later that day from his future teacher, Ms. K, basically introducing herself (she'd JUST been hired), the classroom will be at Feitshans, and saying that she "thought" there would be an open house "Wednesday or Thursday of next week" i.e. THIS week. Didn't know for sure, it depended on the principal, and she didn't know when the classroom was going to start - the absolute earliest being the 8th. Great, and we just started him with the new therapist.
So Monday was his second day of unenrolled therapy (it didn't go as well as the first), and therapist said she'd "heard the news" about him starting school the 8th! Really? WHAT news? This was yesterday, the 1st, and I didn't even know yet if/when there would be an open house this week! Well, according to therapist, she'd gotten an e-mail saying he would start the 8th (and so to drop him from her caseload as of then). So we went home, and I sat down at the computer with phones and numbers to find out what times, when enrollment was, when orientation, when when when?
Long phone-tagging story short - Feitshans said to call Early Learning Center. ELC said to call Feitshans. I got that the class would be 9:30-12 (Husband works at 12, transportation glitch here), but nothing about open house, orientation, "meet the teacher" thing, nothin'. So this morning I called the school and asked directly for Ms. K. I got voicemail. Reminded her who I was (she called ME last week, after all), said I'd heard class was starting the 8th, if so when was the open house? Nothing-nothing-nothing, so I called after school was out and talked to the secretary. The secretary knew nothing, but HAD seen Ms. K bring in fliers to be mailed (mailed, as in Postal Service) which mentioned "an" open house. Secretary helpfully put me through to Ms. K's voicemail again.
Tomorrow's Wednesday. No one knows anything. A therapist got an e-mail. A secretary saw fliers to be mailed that mentioned an open house. The teacher may, for aught I know, not have been instructed in how to check her voicemail at this school (she was just hired, after all). By definition, an Early Childhood classroom has ten kids max. Ten sets of parents, possibly fewer. How much time does it take for someone - anyone, the secretary, the teacher, someone in Student Support Services, someone at the ELC - to sit down with those ten-or-fewer names and CALL? "I'm sure you heard from Ms. K already? Good, the open house will be this day and this time, classroom starts on X Monday." Obviously the therapist's e-mail about it starting Monday has to be wrong - they can't be mailing notices today and expect to have an open house (for registration!) before Monday.
And, therapist and I had already talked earlier today about how Kittyboy, who is not a fan of change, chaos, new people, etc, had not exactly cozied up to the new arrangement of going to therapy in a school (the gym had a class in it the second day, the noise and running and chaos TERRIFIED him), and she'd said it might be best "since he's starting school for real on Monday" to skip the rest of this week. Don't even bother trying to get him settled in with HER, since he would then have to settle in with yet another teacher, environment, etc, next week. Sage advice indeed. And we commiserated on "Why even start him with a therapist in the first place, a week and a half before his classroom will start?? Big transitions for the little guy..." Except now it probably will not be next week after all. (I'm NOT calling her back to restart, that WOULD be insane).
And Kittyboy will not be the only child in this class for whom the surprising and different is Not Fun. Not by a long shot, if there are kids who really are autistic (not just looking like it to the "experts" as Kittyboy does). I would think this is a population you would want to have as much preparation in advance for THEM as possible. Not, "Oh surprise, you're going to school Monday." And if not for the therapist mentioning the e-mail, I would know NOTHING.
I am probably overreacting because someone e-mailed the therapist prematurely, but this is unnerving. I'm a bit of a control freak - I don't need to be running the show, but I DO need to know that whomever is, IS firmly in control and on top of things. Not getting that feeling at the moment. Doesn't seem to be, anywhere, any one person in charge who knows everything. And so it's bringing up everything that's made me nervous about leaving Kittyboy (the controlling, the strong-willed, the easily-unnerved - the ME clone) with strangers.
Come to think of it, now I know not only where he gets his will and his take-charge nature, but also the tendency that once he's unsettled, anxious, unnerved, he'll stay that way. And once unsettled, the greater the need to have control...
Someone, just! Tell! Me! Something!

"Child-resistant, not child-PROOF"

2010-01-27T15:26:00.005-06:00

The terminology has changed, apparently, in the last 20 years since I was a child, due to children like mine.Kittyboy was bound and determined not to nap yesterday, I was similarly determined that he WOULD, and so I finally said "Okay, you can get up, but play in your room for the rest of naptime." Just as I was about to make a snack and go get him, he came to ME, with an empty bottle of Benadryl and said "Mommy, I dwink it!", pleased as punch. I said "OH NO! OH DEAR GOD!" which he gleefully repeated over and over while I called my mom, called Poison Control, estimated with a measuring cup how much I thought had been in the bottle, told him to stop repeating me, "we don't just say that", and then the poison lady came back on and said, "That amount is toxic. You need to go to the ER, right now." To which I said again, "OH GOD." "Oh Gud! Oh Gud!" Kittyboy ran around saying, while I called Husband, called my mom again, told Kittyboy again to STOP IT, threw things in a purse, got him dressed, found us both shoes, called Husband again to tell him to drive faster, told Kittyboy again to STOP IT, and we went outside to wait for Husband. Kittyboy thinks going to the doctor is an exciting adventure. HE was happy.
"And how did he get the medicine?" I answered that question probably ten times in the least 24 hours. Climbed a dresser, undid a child "resistant" lid, and drank. Simple as that. Obviously nothing is safe, anywhere. Thank you, OT and fine motor skills. I don't THINK we need to practice unscrewing lids anymore.
We tried for some time, I don't know how long, to get him to drink something, anything, with activated charcoal. We had an activated charcoal mini-bar of juices and milks, none of which he would touch. It doesn't change the taste, it does a little change the texture, but mainly it turns anything it's mixed with pitch black. He would take NOTHING. We told him the alternative was a tube down his throat. He still wouldn't drink, and you can't safely force a child to drink. You CAN, however, forcefeed, and I have done it. I had them mix it with applesauce, and we got enough of it into him (between one of us holding him while the other alternated coaxing and commanding) that he finally realized it tasted and felt pretty much like... applesauce. Then he ate it. We had already pinned him down for the insertion of an IV port, and we WERE ready to go a second time if he didn't eat the blasted charcoal.
I'm such a sweet, softhearted, sympathetic mommy. I wasted no opportunity to point out that this is what happens when you take medicine that Mommy and Daddy didn't give you. Want to go home? Can't, you drank Benadryl and we're stuck here. I'm sorry you need an IV port now, but this happens when you drink Benadryl. Don't feel like drinking black milk? You drank allergy medicine, boy, WHY STOP THERE? I think I must be a tough-love mommy.
I came home about 7 to retrieve diapers, weighted blanket, Curious George, and the Curious George book, and went through the house marveling at all the obvious signs of our speedy exit. The light in his room was on, the stereo was still playing, a baby wipe container was open and drying out, and the dishwasher was open with the baskets pulled out.
Kittyboy was fine, he slept once he had a bedtime story and his blanket, and basically we just sat around watching the monitor do its thing until ten or so, when we woke him up to get started on going home. He'd had no tacchycardia, no strange readings of any sort, everything was fine. When we woke him, though, he was acting REALLY confused. Okay, he'd just been awakened from a sound sleep (and he sleeps like a rock), and he was in a strange place, but when he wouldn't name any of the Pooh characters on his blanket, Sesame St characters on his shoes, or Veggies on his shirt, I was getting worried. He would name the person who was pointing at the character, mommy or daddy, and burst into tears. I got a nurse. He hadn't eaten since lunch, so we fed him applesauce, jello, cookies and juice, to find out whether this was super-low blood sugar and having been soundly asleep, or the "confusion" they had mentioned as a sign he would need to stay longer. After the applesauce, Husband pointed to Kittyboy's necklace and asked, "Who's that? Who is on your chain here?" "Nec tawus." St. Nectarios, YES.
We got home shortly before midnight, fell into bed around one, and woke up this morning to the most annoyingly energized boy EVER. BOY, was he WOUND. Veryveryvery not confused, very not sleepy, VERY back to normal.
And since child-proofing locks are not that much more difficult than child-resistant lids, we're just sticking EVERYTHING on the highest shelf in the bathroom - the one I can only reach standing on the toilet - because I am 99% sure he can't get up there, whereas I am only 50-75% sure he can't undo a cabinet lock.

Aaahhhh... a real computer.....

2010-01-25T12:04:00.002-06:00

You couldn't necessarily tell, because I posted from my phone a few times, but we've been without a real, working computer since before Christmas. Now, thanks to Husband's ingenuity and IT know-how, and our friend Carel's tower, I am sitting at a REAL keyboard, with a lovely 15" monitor, a real mouse, etc, and it's like having full lung capacity back after pneumonia.
I can touch-type again.
Our church's feastday went wonderfully, we had FIVE priests in all, plus His Grace Bishop Demetrios for Vespers Saturday evening, and we found out that kittyboys like bishops. Colorful, bright, shiny, sparkly, jingly and TALL - what more could you want? And with a staff, and a really cool hat, and lots of candles! Any time bishop-y (what's an adjective for bishop-y?) things were going on, Kittyboy was fascinated. And narrating. "Da bishop having da candles! Da bishop singing! Da bishop reading da book! Da bishop censing!" (heeheehee - he's added "censing" to his vocabulary, I love it!). After the Liturgy Sunday - which was an adventure - Husband took Kittyboy to kiss His Grace's hand before we left, and instead Kittyboy dove from Husband's arms for the huge pectoral Theotokos pendant. What a big, shiny, colorful MARY. And so he just had to get a better look.
And we had a wonderful, wonderful time at the St. Anthony's Dinner/Dance Saturday night. Had a babysitter, Kittyboy in bed,and we stayed until close to midnight for the first time since the KB was born. It's my ONE chance a year to go dancing. Now I have to wait... HOW long? For next year? Darn it. I need to get out more often.
Liturgy that Sunday was an adventure because Kittyboy wanted very much to do his altarboy thing with his daddy, and we hadn't really discussed beforehand the fact that he wouldn't be able to. Not with His Grace there, all the extra duties Husband had, all the stuff that was different. That did NOT go over well with Kittyboy. And since we were in the choir - which is up in front - we couldn't leave discretely. I finally started telling him that okay, after Communion -he knows very well what that is and when it happens - we would go downstairs, get a piece of bread to eat, get a drink, go outside (in the snow) and run around. That was the mantra. Over and over. He threw quite a fit during the Gospel reading, but we had our plan, we were waiting for Communion, going downstairs, getting some bread, etc. So then FINALLY, it was the last hymn that is right before Communion, "Enite Ton Kirion" (Praise the Lord), Kittyboy knew this hymn, and spent most of it whining "Conunan? Conunan? Conunan? Conunan? Conunan NOW?" and so I told him YES, Communion was next, THE VERY NEXT thing, and everyone would line up and when it was our turn, we would take Communion and go downstairs and get a piece of bread and get a drink and go outside and run around. VERY NEXT THING. Kittyboy was at the very end of his patience - actually a bit beyond it.
Then His Grace came out with a podium.
I thought this was going to be the end of the world. The world was going to explode in a nuclear fireball of Kittyboy NOT GETTING COMMUNION.
He cried, "CONUNAN??" and burst into tears. I tried muffling him in my shoulder, but he twisted around, so I put my hand over his mouth while I whispered in his ear that The Bishop Was Talking, and we would have Communion after The Bishop Was Done Talking, and Mommy hadn't known that The Bishop Was Going To Talk, but we needed to be quiet and patient and wait and then we would still have Communion and go downstairs and get a piece of bread and get a drink and go outside and run around if he could JUST. WAIT. PATIENTLY. PLEASE.
Kittyboy stopped whining and looked at me. I took my hand off his mouth. He looked at me for another second or so, then HE put my hand BACK over his mouth and went back to whining. "Guess I need that hand back, I've got more displeasure to express here." Shortly after, he said "night night" and laid down under the organist's bench. Poor little guy.
But he lived, we got downstairs, and then he didn't feel the need to go outside and run after all. He sat very quietly and nicely eating soup crackers and drinking Sprite. He just needed a break.
Just yesterday, I packed the whole diaper bag with books instead of the standard soft-and-silent toys, and I think he's old enough that books keep him better occupied. His Guardian Angel Prayerbook, Bible storybook, and Veggietales "God Made You Special" are all good for that, and he's got some fabric Bible story books too. So then, he gets upset that I won't sit and read, but at least he will eventually sit and read his books and I think that'll keep him occupied better than stuffed animals alone.
It also helps that our pews are always covered with wax drips, and those are fun to pick at.
And he is wearing UNDERWEAR. Real underwear, not even pullups, during the day at home. I have even convinced him he can sit on the toilet at church, which he previously refused to do even with his Elmo toilet seat. We've been potty training for maybe a month, I think? I had been figuring that if he wasn't interested, I could just wait until he was old enough to reason with and explain, "Here's the deal. If you are old enough to try to change your own diaper [which he had attempted a couple times, disasterously] then you are plenty old enough to sit on the potty chair when you have to go!!!!" And we worked out a reward system - he started the day in a disposable pullup, moved to cloth training pants if he went on the potty chair, from there to real underwear if again he stayed dry and went on the potty chair, and could wear the underwear as long as he continued staying dry. If he wasn't dry, back to the disposable pullup again. So now he's at that stage when he will gleefully blurt out Too Much Information, loudly and publicly. I whispered "Are you still clean and dry?" during church, and of COURSE (what was I expecting??) he announced enthusiastically, "STILL KEEN AND DWY MOMMY!" Well hey, that was good news, why NOT share it?? I expect it will get more "interesting" from here...
The school district has not yet "found" a classroom for Kittyboy, so he is starting outpatient speech therapy Wednesday. Hopefully we can take him early so he can get acquainted with the therapist before the other three kids who will be in his group arrive. And hopefully they are not pretty little girls whose personal space he will totally ignore. Maybe we can wait in the office this first session, because this lady's never had him before - she'll meet him for THE first time Wednesday, and I don't know that his file can really tell her all that it would be good for her to know... his file, after all, is just his IEP, notes from people who saw him once for an hour when he was having a really good morning. Murphy's Law would suggest that Wednesday might not be a really good morning, you know? So if we can pop in fifteen minutes early to introduce them at length, that would be great. Waiting for a phone call back on that.
I should get off the computer now and make sure Kittyboy's not, oh say, eating the Christmas cactus.

Practically the Perfect Phone

2010-01-15T09:48:00.000-06:00

My perfect phone would have the life-organizing chops of a Blackberry or iPhone, but have a real number pad, NOT be a touch screen, have a real keyboard, good call quality (it's a PHONE, first and foremost), enough internet/email capabilities to keep me non-computer dependent, great battery life, and if I need to just make a call quickly, I shouldn't have to jump any hoops. If the phone function is a program or app you have to open, it's not a phone, it's more just a PDA thing that coincidentally can also make calls, or so goes my thinking.
Blackberries are great but come with 300-page user manuals (I'm not exaggerating - each model comes with 300 pages of how to use it, which I would guess means it's WAY too much phone for me). Also, the fact that the number keys are off to one side would eventually get bothersome - I like being able to dial without looking. This is why I am hard to please. For basic phone functions, that 6010 spoiled me rotten.
I want a 6010 smart phone.
So I saw this demo phone at Walmart, of all places. Blackberry-looking, but with the numbers in the center of the keypad!! Right there where if I spent some time with the phone, I'd be able to dial by feel. I was so excited! And, drum roll please - made by Nokia. Rock ON. The E71x.
So I went home and googled the phone to read reviews, forgetting the "x" when I typed it in - and that x is important, apparently. The E71 (released in Europe) has VERY good reviews. Emailed Husband at work saying "Eee, I want this phone!" and he reminded me about the x, saying that's the US version, so I looked it up. Not so good - like, from four and a half stars to three. Grr. Said it ran slowly, was bogged down with programs you couldn't uninstall, it just wasn't that great. Same site that reviewed the European model. Husband came home from work AGAIN to answer a barrage of questions about the nagging little differences between this model and that model and "why does the US version stink??" He's so patient. He says I give him practice for certain customers he encounters at work.
Well, the E71x is the phone supported and subsidized by our carrier. The x stands for "branded to the max" - it has Nokia's navigation program AND the carrier's navigation program, same for music and email and so on. You can't get rid of any of it, and so it runs slower and isn't as good. Hmph. And now I had a bee in my bonnet - golly gee, did I want a Nokia again.
I checked out the other E-series Nokias, they're okay. E72 has a smaller space bar. One of them, I forget which, has a half keyboard (every key has two letters on it), which in my book is the strangest concept since Pepsi Blue. The N-series are all touch screens. And besides I was looking for something to get used on Ebay like all our other phones (with the exception of iPhones) have been. We have quite the collection, but they've all been cheap.
Husband reminded me it's tax season. (Ooo, goosebumps! But no, I should be good...) And that you can order phones directly from Nokia. Okay, but the E71 is still my favorite and still a European phone (uses different bandwidth). Ah, but not exactly, Husband Dearest says (at this point he looks a lot like Santa Claus, picture him 200 pounds heavier and a lot older). Nokia has an E71, no x, that uses the US 3G bandwidth and can be bought directly from them. No carrier-based extras, no branding. The exact same phone as the one I got excited about, just with the ability to use US towers.
Oh, and he knows someone at work who would buy my iPhone, which would help cover the price.
I did a LOT more reading. We found a store that had an actual working model I could play with to try out the keyboard and menus. I typed "How hard is it to type without typos on this phone?" and "The quick brown fox..." and some other stuff. Apple made me a worse typist, Nokia will make me a better one. So the keyboard is cool. On the number pad, I dialed quickly the numbers I call the most without too much trouble. Menus will take getting used to again because, well, the iPhone doesn't have any. But they're not complicated.
I THINK I have found my "forever" phone. It's a Blackberry-sort-of-thing but not a Blackberry, it will do everything I need and precious little that I won't, and it's as close as I will find to a "6010 smart phone".
And this probably brands me as a forever GEEK, but I'm so excited about going back to Nokia! I'm such geek that I have a favorite manufacturer! And it's kind of like coming home! (Hey, some women have favorite clothing brands, favorite shoe brands, favorite make-up lines... I'm not THAT weird! Am I?)

The Winds of Cellular Change

2010-01-14T23:39:00.001-06:00

My dear Husband goes to work, five days a week, as a customer service rep at a telecommunications call center. He's very good at his job, loves it for reasons which entirely escape me, but when he leaves the call center, work follows him home like a friendly stray puppy. This is because I am his pickiest customer.
I am very nearly impossible to please. The first phone I LOVED was the Nokia 6010. It's perfect - basic, simple, a good size, a nice weight in your hand, held a call all the way into the hospital parking garage, made the TV flicker from across the room when it rang, and was $10 on Ebay. I adored it. Husband got me using a Motorola Razor for a time, because he was repairing and selling them, and so he had me make sure they worked - I was SO indignant when one dropped a call as I walked into a parking garage. How dare it! The Razor was nice, but it was no 6010.
I cannot remember how many phones I have had. Husband hasn't gotten annoyed with me, but rather sees me as a challenge. I think he actually enjoys memorizing my every finicky reason for not being perfectly satisfied with what I have, and trying to find which weird model that was sold for five minutes in Canada could possibly be my perfect phone. I have gotten something techie for Valentine's, birthday, anniversary, Christmas, Valentine's, birthday... I have had a phone with a full keyboard split by a screen in the middle (Nokia 3300). Only problem with that was that I'm accustomed to typing across the whole keyboard - and made me look like I was holding a Gameboy to the side of my head. I had one with a metal case that slid shut with a click like a Zippo lighter (Nokia 8801). That was cool except for the abysmal battery life. I had an HTC Wizard, which is about 3/4 of an inch thick, is Windows Mobile (not so much a Microsoft fan as I am a Mac-hater). That introduced me to the concept of a phone that could keep notes and appointments easily, but barely missed being flung under a city bus in a moment of unimaginable stress when I needed to access a number keypad while listening to my voicemail and couldn't. I THINK it was after that that I got a Pantec Matrix. Full keyboard for office functions, and a separate number pad, because I was NOT making the Wizard mistake again. Matrix and I got along fairly well.
Husband has been addicted to his iPhone for about a year now, and last fall he broke the screen. He got a second one, but then fixed the screen in the first, and persuaded me to play with it. Well, mine is hacked out the wazoo because scrolling through pages of apps is more trouble than the apps are worth, to me at least. Like I said, hard to please. So mine are all in little folders. Downside of hacking your iPhone is that you become your own tech support, because Apple has a major problem with that. It's great for when Kittyboy and I are on a bus at the height of ladybug season and having him stare at the screen for an hour is much, much better than him screaming for an hour, but the glitches are getting old (ironic considering I thought Apple products were supposed to "just work"). One lovely little "glitch" froze the phone function - as in, I couldn't dial. Turned the phone off and back on several times without fixing it. Husband popped the sim card out and back in and THAT fixed it, but that was enough for me. As I told my long-suffering IT person/spouse, your car's engine may only blow up once, but I'll wager you think twice about buying that model of car again.
But at this point, we've actually canceled our Internet provider because of our phones' tethering (plug it into the computer, it becomes a wireless modem), so my phone needs to be a smart phone or I have no Internet when Husband is gone. I told him the perfect phone would be a Nokia - have a real number pad, real keypad, none of this touch-screen mess where I routinely send half-composed emails because my knuckle brushed the send key - be a phone first, toy second - and have all my office stuff available. Music would be nice, optional but nice. I just want a perfect PHONE.
And tomorrow, because it's after 11 and time for bed, I will type more.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Excitement at Church!

2010-01-12T19:23:00.000-06:00

Today, we spent three hours at church removing wax from the carpet, and tomorrow afternoon will be more of the same! Tomorrow, however, I am bringing Kittyboy's DVD player. Three hours of him running around today was far more excitement than I wish to repeat.

Here is Kittyboy helpfully sweeping in front of the bishop's throne. He likes to sweep! And sweeping keeps him out of trouble. I was occupied with a hot iron and paper towels, so something had to keep him busy, somehow, somewhere. Removing wax drips is not difficult, just tedious. And never-ending. I think I'm going to volunteer to iron up the wax drippings weekly after church, just to avoid this whole hassle every holiday.
And what holiday is coming up, you ask? St. Anthony's Day! Our church's big feastday - the bishop comes, clergy from nearby towns, there's a big dinner/dance Saturday after Vespers, and partying-wise, it's second only to Easter. Really. Greeks know how to party. And we have a babysitter for Saturday night!!!!
There was one incident of GREAT excitement and turmoil this afternoon, from which Patrick learned that not everything he wants to touch is touchable, and Father learned the destructive power of even the most well-meaning of toddlers.
Father is rather given to over-indulgence where Kittyboy is concerned. Okay, that's putting it mildly. Boy Can Do No Wrong. Naturally, if I tell Kittyboy to stay out of the altar area and his friend the PRIEST says, "Ah, don't worry, he's a good boy," of course the one Kittyboy listens to is NOT me. And who wants to debate discipline with their priest, you know? But really, Father spoils him rotten...
There's this cross behind the altar. Seven foot tall if it's an inch, maybe eight. It has an icon of Christ on it, and it comes out for Holy Thursday. I was ironing paper towels, Father was talking to me, the "good little boy" was out of sight. CRASH. Dramatic, drawn-out crash, and Kittyboy screaming. We came running.
Huge cross was toppled onto the altar, candelabras and whatnot scattered about, and the chandelier swinging wildly! Kittyboy was completely unharmed, but had been frightened out of his wits. As well he should have been, considering the cross is solid wood and very heavy, any number of heavy brass things could have fallen off the altar onto him, and there were heavy glass things that could have broken or fallen on him, or both. The boy is blessed, is all I can say. Father got everything put back up, NOTHING was broken, and I daresay Father may think twice about letting him wander unsupervised. Three-year-old boys don't have to INTEND to cause trouble. They just DO, as part of being three. My guess is one of three possibilities - he hugged the cross (base is unstable, his hugs are energetic), he tried to move/tip it to see it better, or he tried to climb the unstable base to kiss Jesus... that third one sounding very likely to me now as I type it, because earlier in the afternoon he was kissing all the saints in the iconostasis.

Yeah, I think the climbing-to-kiss scenario is the only one that would have definitely tipped the cross in the direction of the altar. I'll bet that was it.
Did I mention we have a babysitter for Saturday night?
EEEEEE!!!

The Great Uncle Chase - Second Try

2010-01-04T12:22:00.002-06:00

Hi there! This is Clicker-Happy, from "Clicker-Happy Auntie," the little sis of Caeseria. I'm a guest writer here. His Imperial Kittyboy loves this game, it's his favorite! One uncle acts as a steed, and the other is his prey, and they run around and around and AROUND the dining room table! It's a blast to watch, and I had my camera with me, so...well, here's the finished result - The Great Uncle Chase!

The Great Uncle Chase

2010-01-04T12:20:00.000-06:00

The first one goofed, we are trying again.

The Great Uncle Chase

2010-01-03T15:54:00.002-06:00

The traditional passtime of His Imperwial

A Diet of Scary!

2009-12-28T20:19:00.000-06:00

Kittyboy acts like a Tigger, but we think of him as a Piglet. He's scared by many miscellaneous things, it kind of depends, and it's hard to predict what will scare him before he's in tears, and once something scares him, he's often DONE. That's it, no more, done for the day.
Likes music loud, but is scared of certain noises, and they don't have to be loud to be scary. Scrolling through an app on my phone - made a swooshing noise - sent him running in tears to his room. We spent a day at the Steam Show in Jacksonville, THAT was a total bust. At the beginning of a video about construction equipment, they show demolitions, which scares him every time. Fire scares him - we got one good shot in front of a background with a fireplace for his Christmas photo, and he was all done with that. We saw the background as the photographer was pulling it down, thought "Here goes nothing," and were impressed we got the one, AND that he only said "All done, all done" and hastily climbed down from the platform, instead of losing it completely. Food must be lukewarm - the sight of steam is distressing. Bugs are scary, anything small and quickly moving that's not in a cage.
This afternoon, I told my mom we were taking Kittyboy to Brookfield Zoo with the grandparents in the spring, but were taking him the our smaller local zoo first as a dry run - so we could know in advance what exhibits to avoid. Then then I listened to what I just said. And I decided this is ridiculous. Not the idea of a dry run at a smaller zoo, that's a good idea - just the whole, "What about this normal childhood activity is going to scare him?" thing. He cannot go through life being anxious about every new sound and anything sudden, especially when it's actually contrary to his personality. He's an extrovert who charges through life with glee and abandon - seeing him stop short and burst into tears because of a ladybug is just too sad.
We watched Pinocchio today. I was nervous that he would get scared, and then of course be done with the movie, but every time he did get scared (let's see now - the puppeteer, the coachman, Pleasure Island, the whale, the fire to make the whale sneeze, the whale again) he calmed back down. He ran crying from the construction video later, because of the demolitions, but it gave me an idea. I know reading the original Grimms' Fairy Tales is supposed to be really good for kids, because it introduces scary things and allows kids to then deal with being scared without anything scary actually happening. So on that theory, I am putting him on a diet of scary, because the earlier he learns how to BE scared in real life, and then deal with it and get past it, the happier his childhood will be. I don't care if he ever goes on rollar coasters, but I don't want the sight of one to ruin his day at a theme park, you know? (I don't even know what he will think of rollar coasters, that's just an example).
We'll read Grimms every day, and we'll start watching all the Disney movies that I haven't put in simply because of the long run-time (he's just turned three, 90 minutes seems like a long time to sit for one program, but if this would help...!). I've made progress on food temps, by fixing a LOT of fried potatoes during Advent - I doubt anyone can resist fresh fries, no matter the heat. That was the first thing he ever ate that was actually hot (who wants lukewarm fries?). And this evening he ate pasta that was steaming - we blew on each bite, together, until it was totally cooled, but the plate sat there steaming, and he actually didn't refuse to eat, which he usually does if it looks hot.
Any other ideas how to nicely but firmly expand his horizons? How to safely scare him, so to speak? Because that's the plan! It may sound mean, but something's got to change!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

And it's Christmas...

2009-12-24T21:05:00.000-06:00

All my gifts are wrapped. Okay, not ALL, but all that are being opened tomorrow. Kittyboy knows tomorrow is Christmas, and that we get to go to c-h-u-r-c-h tomorrow (I actually did spell that at breakfast this morning). I could pat myself on the back that I don't have to spell Christmas and Santa, yet DO spell church, but I can't really take credit - that's him. His devotion and enthusiasm are not really things for which we can take credit. Church has been his thing since he came home from the hospital the Friday before Palm Sunday - we went to a couple night services, planned to keep the newborn home from the crowds by midweek, but by Wednesday had come to realize church was where he was quietest, calmest and happiest. That was just his happy place. Sure, we take him every week, but that can't account for all of it. So yeah, spelling c-h-u-r-c-h made my day.
Tomorrow he will be performing his dual chanter/altarboy duties, singing with Mommy and walking in procession holding Daddy's hand. He gets to open one package (nice short-sleeved dress shirts!!! he tends to overheat in long sleeves) and Santa is giving him a little stuffed Grover who can go to church with him. Grover is so ridiculously cooler than Elmo, it's not even funny, and we finally found a stuffed Grover. I've never watched a full episode of Sesame Street, neither has Kittyboy, but somehow every toddler knows Elmo. I grew up with Grover, reading "The Everything In The Whole Wide World Museum". Kittyboy loves that book too. So now we may stealthily and covertly replace in his affections Elmo, who can't talk right, with Grover, who is cool. Or at least that is the hope.
And this year, the third anniversary of the rush to the hospital, pain, sickness, impending liver damage, "How determined are you to stay pregnant?" ordeal (started the 21st of Dec) passed without my noting it. Yahoo. At 10:30 tomorrow morning, it will have been three years ago that Kittyboy made his way-early entrance into the world, screaming and ticked off. That boy was many things, but even at 28 weeks, "weak" was not one of them. Strong-willed was. Then, he was on a ventilator. This morning he said his first full, complete, correct sentance. "Where dih da Winnie Pooh book go?" as he turned in place looking for one of his early Christmas presents from Puppygirl (yes, we all clutched at our chests and then praised him effusively). He also weighs a little over 20 times what he did at birth.
I have a duck thawing in the fridge. We have, oddly for the end of Advent, no vegetables in the house, and stores are closed, so we're just not eating veggies tomorrow. We've eaten enough, right? I need to brown sausage for my aunt's awesome breakfast casserole, to go in the oven when we get home.
We did early Christmas this morning with Kittyboy's Puppygirl and Aunt Carey, and he has spent the day playing with a wooden tractor bank and four pennies. He can count to four very well now. Daddy, in the guise of Santa, slipped a fifth penny in the bank. We're looking forward to tomorrow's counting. "One, two, fwee, four..." confused look. "One, two, fwee, four..."
A Merry Christmas to all tomorrow, as we celebrate the birth of Our Lord.
And to all a good night!

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Kittyboy can chant AND be an altarboy...

2009-12-19T19:58:00.000-06:00

Those who were not in church this morning - which was EVERYONE - missed QUITE a show.
Kittyboy walking around the tree in front (decorated with little icons and crosses) finding Marys. Kittyboy walking around the tree finding crosses. Kittyboy examining the lights. Kittyboy holding Daddy's finger during the Gospel and standing nicely. Kittyboy singing and singing and singing with Mommy. Kittyboy FINISHING A HYMN for Mommy ("eonon Amin") when Mommy got the giggles (he is starting to match pitch well for being a week from turning three). Kittyboy running up to Father for his very OWN blessing whenever Father blessed the (invisible) congregation. Kittyboy walking backwards with Daddy processing at the Great Entrance. (That was impressive, and took some trial and error). The Kittyboy-Daddy tug-of-war after the Great Entrance when Kittyboy thought they should go back in the same door they came out of and was convinced Daddy was going the wrong way. Kittyboy running up to kiss the Gospel. The energetic and sometimes urgent gesturing of chanter and acolyte at each other, concerning where Kittyboy should be and what he should be doing. Mommy calling Kittyboy back while FATHER called him over (Kittyboy knows Father outranks Mommy, and behaved accordingly). Kittyboy running out to Mommy WEARING FATHER'S CROSS. (I was scandalized!! Husband says it was Father's idea...) Many hymns were puncuated by No and Sit and KittyboyJamesEmmanuel Get Back Here, vehemently and quietly.
Father's taken him back to the altar area to look around after services enough times that our son now thinks that's where he belongs (problem!) but I'm told he's good while back there. This morning, he just couldn't decide whether he wanted to serve or be a chanter, so he kept changing his mind. He would sing with me a while and then run over to the door in the iconostasis and knock to be let back in. He did a LOT of running back and forth - but for a toddler, he WAS very good.
It was a long, funny, adorable morning. And quite tiring on both parents. Father said he was wonderful, and wants him to come back (!!!) so tomorrow we're going for Orthros and we'll give that a try. Husband can put an acolyte on Kittyboy-duty if necessary. I WOULD love to chant on Sundays again!

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Christmas for the birds

2009-12-17T12:22:00.000-06:00

I don't know why I've never seen this on crafting sites, moms' blogs, etc, but I haven't - so here it is! Stringing CHEERIOS.

Kittyboy and Puppygirl had a NICE long playdate yesterday, and I wanted to do Christmasy stuff. I love stringing popcorn and whatnot for the birds, but Kittyboy's at that age where you don't want to hand him a needle AND he's going to WANT a needle, so he can do what you're doing.
Why have I never read about stringing cheerios? They have holes already made! Two soup bowls full gave Puppygirl and I several feet apiece, strung on yarn with tape around the end to stiffen it for a needle. They make VERY attractive garlands, there's no breaking of popcorn (and subsequent vacuuming required), no needling of fingers, easy and quick. Any generic oat-based cereal with a hole in the middle will work. I think a whole box would decorate several hedges. We decorated the saplings growing off the stump at the end of the drive.

Kittyboy is quite proficient at stringing, but more so at eating! So is his dragon pal, Ock.

Our house has a new, EASY tradition!

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"Para tou einoi"

2009-12-14T13:47:00.001-06:00

Sometimes I think we could employ a military code expert in this house - or alternatively, that I am in fact qualified for such a job.
Kittyboy started out the morning requesting "Pana (Para?) too enny" music. We asked again and again, what on EARTH he was talking about, could get no clarification, and getting him to sing it didn't help. Then I thought I had an insight. I was sure I'd heard at least the last two words before, in church. Not "too enny" but "tou einoi" (pronounced eh-ni). Ah HA. At some point in church yesterday, there must have been some hymn in Greek that he really liked, and that was the only phrase he remembered of it - and gosh, now I was REALLY sunk, because he was asking me to sing something in Greek and I didn't know what. (I missed ALL of church yesterday getting ready for coffee hour, so I didn't know what the hymns were that might have caught his interest!). And he was most insistent - "pana tou einoi! para tou einoi!"
Before I could sit down with the toddler and the husband to try and figure out which hymn this was (something about praise, enoi is praise), which I was fully prepared to do, I saw the back of a Veggie Tales video tape box.
CLICK.
"We are the PIRATES who don't DO ANYthing..." Para tou einoi, "pirates - do - any".
You know how the brain reshuffles the unfamiliar so that it makes sense? Kittyboy's English actually made more sense to me as Greek.
I need a vacation.

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The Positives of Echolalia

2009-12-09T15:42:00.000-06:00

First the amusing story.
There are FIERCE winds today, and it sounds like a downpour but without rain. It's really loud. Kittyboy has been quite a hoot! During breakfast he kept saying "yittle pig, yittle pig" and we weren't sure what he was talking about, then he said "A huff an a puff an BOOOOOO da house down!!" He was talking about the Three Little Pigs! One of his favorite stories. We told him there was no wolf, just the wind, and everything's fine. Besides, our house is made of bricks. Then shortly after, there was a GREAT blast of wind, whereupon Kittyboy jumped to his feet and yelled excitedly, "YITTLE PIG, YITTLE PIG, I COMMY IN!!!" (the end of the story when the wolf gets up on the third little pig's roof to climb down the chimney). He was more excited than scared, fortunately. But all I would have had to do anyway is explain that we don't have a chimney. Problem solved.
He's been quoting a LOT of videos and books of late, but also forming a lot more sentences independently - so really awesome. And sometimes what he quotes is actually relevent in some way, now that we're paying attention to what he quotes from and when. We were discussing at lunch a friend of a friend of my dad's, who is in the hospital with very serious complications from H1N1 (pray for Resa Ellison!). I told Kittyboy that there was a lady named Resa who is very sick and we needed to ask God to take care of her and make her better. After we prayed, he said "Dadey Guy pay outside!" (Davey and Goliath, as in the claymation cartoon, play outside). I said yes, Davey and Goliath play outside a lot. "Dadey Guy yooky!" "They were looking at something?" "Airpay CASH!!!" (airplane crash). In "The Big Rescue", I think it is, Davey is at summer camp and the campers hear an airplane in trouble, and the plane crashes nearby. "Davey (something) singy!" The campers sang hymns while they walked through the forest so the people who crashed could hear them coming. He kept going on about the airplane crashing, and then I had an idea. I said, "Yes, and when the airplane crashed, the people were hurt, weren't they. And the pilot asked God to send help." And like an affirmation, ("Houston, we have contact!") Kittyboy said again, "Dadey singy!" "Yes, God sent help. God sent Davey and Goliath and their friends to help. The pilot PRAYED for help and God sent it! And we PRAYED for Him to take care of Resa, didn't we?"
The echolalia was irritating when it was the reason he repeated things in question form and called himself "you", but now that we're educated about the different forms it takes, we can sometimes have conversations we wouldn't otherwise. He didn't ask to watch Davey and Goliath, he didn't want to watch it, and he dropped the subject when the conversation changed, but right after I told him we were praying for Resa because she was sick and needed help, that was what he brought up. And after I remembered the pilot praying and talked about how THAT was what we had just done too, it was like we were having a back and forth conversation about prayer. I'm just sure that's what we were doing.

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A Shocking Admission

2009-12-05T19:01:00.001-06:00

I hate baklava.
Okay, I said it, let fly the rotten tomatoes.
I have deeply disliked honey as long as I can remember. I don't know if I'd ever had it straight before the day I had to take some nasty medicine and my mom thought I would take it in honey. It wasn't the flavor of the medicine I objected to, that I remember, it was more the texture that made me gag, and the texture was NOT improved by putting it in a big ol' spoonful of thick, cloying sweetness. I hate honey. Pouring it from the big jug into the little bear-shaped jug, the smell is revolting. Yes, honey has a smell. And baklava, in addition to one piece being about all the sweet I can take for months on end, is dripping and oozing with honey.
Greeks put honey on everything. If it's not honey, it's sugar-syrup that looks the same. Diples are drizzled with honey, kataifi is drenched with it. And I just spent from 10 until 3ish standing behind pans with pools of honey/syrup in the bottom, puddles of it on wax paper, handing treats that stuck to my gloves and nearly slid out of the goofy paper cups because of the sheer amount of ooey, gooey, sticky syrup.
I tried, heroically I think, not to make a face while boxing up stuff for people. I gagged not once. But it was nauseating. I had never seen so much sticky sweetness in one place. I never wish to again.
Next Holly Fair, I'm serving gyros.
Holly Fair WAS a blast, apart from desperately craving pretzels or wasabi peas to settle my stomach. I think we had a pretty good turnout, and one of the other venders there (they have some crafters set up sometimes) was a hostess for "emagineGreen" which I guess is a company that sells organic this and that, and one of her sample products was a carved, handpainted, rubberwood zoo. Yes, Kittyboy is getting a zoo for Christmas! And now I have GOT to stop buying him presents. But I just keep finding such cool stuff he "needs"...

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Our First IEP!

2009-12-03T13:00:00.000-06:00

IEP means Individual Education Plan. It's the school equivalent of an IFSP, Individual Family Service Plan, which is what the big fancy meetings are called when you're still in Early Intervention or a similar 0-3 program.
The quick run-down, followed by long story:
Kittyboy qualifies for NINETY minutes a week speech therapy, and monthly OT to follow progress. He will be in an Early Start classroom, which is the small size, 2.5 hours a day, kinda-the-whole-thing-is-group-therapy "special ed" preschool. Which is soooo funny to me, considering the stuff he knows, because you think of special education as meaning mentally handicapped. Bree asked him Monday what color a shape was, he was being extremely difficult and answering shapes for colors and colors for shapes, and so when she asked what the color was, he said, "Quatrefoil!" (which he says catafoyo, kinda) because that was the shape. Friday morning at my parents' house, he pointed at the clock and said, "Minute hand on-a da TEN!" Yes, the minute hand was on the ten.
So that's the short story.
It was really cool to listen to all the "experts" giving their reports, and jumping into each other's presentations with, "Then that's why I saw such-and-such!" and, "Okay, maybe THAT explains the disparity between his score for this and his score for that..." I've seen a t-shirt that says, "I reject your reality and subsitute my own!" and I think our son needs one that says, "I reject your developmental timeline and substitute my own!" He will learn what he wishes in the order he wishes, and if he wants to tell you all the numbers on the clock before learning to count sequentially, well, that's exactly what His Imperial Highness will do.
Everyone saw marked improvement, during his assessments, when he got sensory breaks in between things. I laughed when one lady described him as "oozing" out of his chair. That's why he went from high chair to plain booster to booster with straps and tray, because it's the only way to keep him in place. I just loved the oozing description! They're really picky on eye contact, at least I think so, they seem to expect a LOT of that, and who goes around staring everyone in the face all day? I don't... I also laughed, and then had to explain why, when one lady said that he really didn't want to stack the blocks, because all Ginny has to do to induce a rolling-on-floor TANTRUM is pull out blocks. He HATES stacking blocks when someone tells him to. He'll do it on his own rarely, once stacking them on a rotating toy (we have the pictures to prove it), but no way if it's not his idea. And the "need for transition object" comes up again if he's in a new place, because there was one toy he took with him from the first area to the second, another he took from the second to the third, and so on, and then he would pick up and put down that toy between activities, like touching base. And I explained about how he used to need something to leave the house with, that hasn't been as important lately at home but it makes sense that it would be in a brand new environment with strangers. He has, according to them, low muscle tone, which is strange when we think of him as Baby Samson, but I guess muscle tone and strength aren't the same thing. There are muscles that are strong, but there are others that are underdeveloped. When I think of low muscle tone as being a problem, I think of a kid I knew in SCOPE whose muscle tone was nonexistent. The way Kittyboy runs is a little rough and an "immature stride" - this kid walked the way mine runs, and was two years older. Now THAT is low muscle tone that's a problem. Of course there are muscles Kittyboy needs to work, trunk comes to mind, but as far as being a concern, it's not overly one of mine.
Kittyboy has learned VERY well how to self-accomadate (meaning stuff like grabbing a transition object when he needs it). Ironically that was a stumbling block in writing up his plan. If it's a need he can meet on his own - which it is - then it doesn't go in his plan. But what you just KNOW will happen, though, is that he would grab something from his immediate vicinity before leaving the classroom to go to the gym (self-accomodating, meeting his need) and the teacher would say no, and unpleasantness would ensue. So it HAD to be in there. So everyone had their laptops out rewriting their reports so that everything was worded Just So. Husband had already been through the hairsplitting with IEPs at Hope School, but I thought it was funny. Evidently that's the norm, is that they write their reports, we have the meeting, we decide based on those reports what he needs, and then reports get rewritten to reflect what we decided he needed based on those reports... Love it. Director and miscellaneous therapist going back and forth - "If transition object is going in, I need a report stating the need for it." "It's right here where I said 'used toy to transition between activities'." "But that doesn't label it a need." "No, he needed it, we all saw this, he had to pick up and put down that toy between every activity." "But that's not how it's stated." Clickety-clickety-clickety.
And, very important - his eligibility is NOT "concerns of possible autism" (which was actually on the table as an option!!!!) but "developmental delays". Another example of wording being key. I am perfectly willing to go with district services as long as he "requires" them, but we're not involving labels, and NOT putting anything on paper that can't be changed as he changes. Developmental delays says it all, and will be invalid when he's caught up, at which point the plan is still to homeschool.
And where was Kittyboy this whole 1.5 hour long meeting? He had an ADVENTURE. We dropped him off about an hour beforehand with Aunt Carey and Puppygirl. He played there, he had fun, Puppygirl read him books, and despite some whimpering when Carey added wood to their woodburning stove (still afraid of fire), he calmed down after some snuggling and said, "Warm! Pretty..." Then, he took a bus ride downtown with them, transferred to a different bus, rode to Puppygirl's gymnastics class, and even crossed a four-lane in the process. And Carey said he was a very good boy!

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Advent Snack - Sauerkraut Sandwiches

2009-12-02T12:08:00.001-06:00

This just isn't worth being called a "recipe", it's just a sandwich. My dad introduced me to these when I was in high school and trying to find any alternative I could to PBJ. You need a can of sauerkraut, bread, and mustard. Pumpernickel or rye would be awesome, I just have wheat at the moment. Yellow and brown mustard both are good, whatever mustard you like. You toast the bread, drain the sauerkraut, and you're good to go. Husband isn't big on these if I remember right (feel free to correct me, dear?) but Kittyboy and I both like them. Yummy!
You don't HAVE to toast the bread, but I can't stand sogginess to any degree, and toasting prevents that. Draining the sauerkraut as much as possible, though, is MANDATORY.

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Advent Recipe 3 - Lentil Burgers

2009-11-26T20:37:00.000-06:00

Okay, so last week was a bust for Advent recipes -car problems, Thanksgiving, traveling, whatnot. Today I thought my mom's lentil-potato cakes sounded good, but didn't have enough room or time to cook both lentils and potatoes, so I just did lentils. What we finally ended up with turned out yummy - and that's coming from a household of carnivores.

Refried Lentil Burgers

About two cups of lentils, boiled until done (little over an hour, if you keep it rolling), drained, mixed with finely diced onion and whatever spices you would put on a hamburger. I mashed them up and tried to fry the resulting paste - not good, too much moisture. Stirred in half a cup of potato flakes, still too much moisture. Dumped the whole bowl in the pan and stirred it around (like making refried beans), then pulled it out and dropped a scoopful back in at a time.
Kittyboy recognized his sandwich as burgery, and requested "ke'up!" I put hot sauce on mine. Husband deemed them "surprisingly good for lentils". So it was (eventually) a hit!

A Kicking Kittyboy

2009-11-23T17:39:00.000-06:00

Our Kittyboy, as athletic as he is (he can climb the rock wall at Washington Park - it's intended for five-year-olds), has never been one for kicking. We got one kick out of him at some eval this year, he sorta kicked, wobbled, and sat. He wasn't that motivated to keep trying either, when throwing is easier, does the job admirably, and keeps both feet under control on terra firma.
His neighbor buddy, "Bobby", on the other hand, has been toddling about kicking a ball since March, at 21 months. Kittyboy's six months older, and was just starting to maybe run. They like chasing each other, but both spent most of summer in the Mine stage - if there was a toy, there had to be two, they had to be the SAME toy, etc - which makes playing difficult.
So today they saw each other, pointed, shrieked, and Kittyboy ran over to play. Bobby's mom quickly found THREE balls, and Bobby kicked one over to Kittyboy, who threw it back. After a couple throws, I told him to try kicking like his friend was, and he put the ball down and carefully tried. It went backwards! Haha, how very funny, he thought! Giggling and squealing, he had to try that again, and that time it went sideways! Oh, how funny! Every time he kicked, he squealed in excitement, waved his fists happily, and ran over to tell me about it. Sometimes it went forwards, sometimes sideways, sometimes backwards, sometimes up in the air, and no matter the result, Kittyboy was absolutely delighted!! Bobby looked confused that his friend wasn't kicking it to HIM, but between us two mommies, we kept it moving back and forth.
They've both started outgrowing the Mine stage, because one of the balls had ELMO, and there wasn't really a problem with it. Some whining maybe if one had it for too long, but not a problem.
Now we need to find some soccer on YouTube! (no, we don't have cable). Viva futbol!

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Advent Recipe 2 - Corned Cabbage

2009-11-22T10:59:00.001-06:00

Nice way to have a St. Patrick's day flavor without the beef.
All you need is a cabbage, a pot, and the spices that come in those little flavoring packets when you buy corned beef - allspice, bay leaves, thyme, and if you're me, a LOT of peppercorns! Boil the spices for a bit before adding the cabbage, so your kitchen smells like corned beef, then just cook cabbage like normal.
Wouldn't fool anyone into thinking a brisket was actually involved at any point, but tastes good!
Next I am trying an Advent coleslaw. Yes, I have more cabbage to use up!

The Christmas Rush - When Classics Sell Out

2009-11-20T22:35:00.002-06:00

This is just way too funny. We were thinking of getting Kittyboy a Mr. Potato Head, and fortuitously, we got a Toys R Us flyer about some sale this weekend, with the Potato Head couple being part of it. Sweet!
There are toys that sell out FAST, and there are toys that don't. We live in an era of digital this and artificial intelligence that, and what sells out usually does something and makes noise. Mr. Potato Head - basic, classic, simple, even requires actual participation from the child (imagine!), and is not in short supply or "limited edition" - should be fine waiting a few hours for Husband to get off work to go get one. Right?
In six and a half hours, there is not a basic Potato Head of either gender left in the store. The other kinds that weren't on sale are still there, but the basic ones are sold out. WOW. Three shelves worth of empty space, Husband said.
Somehow, that gives you hope for the youngest generation. At least a couple hundred are still playing with Mr. Potato Head. That has to count for something.
We got Kittyboy one at Walmart instead, it's not like there's a shortage. I just thought it was funny. And cool.

Advent Recipe 1 - Fried Cabbage

2009-11-16T14:14:00.001-06:00

Since cabbage is currently fifty cents a pound at County Market, I bought a head to try out fried cabbage, which I've never cooked before. Husband is not a huge fan of cabbage, but thanks to this experiment, it is now on the regular shopping list. I did NOT make enough!!

1 lb. cabbage (it was half of a two-pound head)
Veg oil, enough to cover the bottom of the pan
1/2 onion
1/4 cup sesame seeds (yes, I just happened to have sesame seeds, but they could be optional)
1/4 cup teriyaki (I used Sweet Baby Ray's)

Slice cabbage in thin strips, heat oil, stirfry with onions until cabbage is softening, mix in teriyaki and sesame seeds and cook on medium until cabbage is the desired consistency. For me, this took a little over half an hour, start to finish. Husband and I cleaned our plates - looked at them longingly - and pouted. I should have fried the whole head. I should have bought a bigger one, too.
So THAT recipe is a success!

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Advent Recipes

2009-11-16T11:55:00.002-06:00

As maybe half a dozen people who read my blog know, yesterday started Advent. Advent is the forty-day period of fasting which precedes Christmas - fasting meaning, no meat or dairy. We in this house are not big fans of lentils or rice. In theory, the rest of the year we already don't eat meat or dairy on Wednesdays and Fridays, which was easy when I lived at home and someone else planned the menus. In practice, our family hasn't quite managed that. Now, I could blame our budget for restricting our options, the difficulty of fixing TWO menus (Kittyboy doesn't fast, he's about five years too young) and the fact that I often forget what day it is. But being honest, the main issue is LAZINESS. And the lentil/rice thing.
So this Advent, I have a project. I am posting at least three recipes a week which confirm to the Church's guidelines. Husband and I USED to fast, before I became pregnant and couldn't, then I was pumping milk and couldn't, and it just fell apart from then on. But now I'm going to be a godmother for the second time around! Time to buckle down!
Wish me luck!
Prayers would be great too!

An Eye Exam, and Other Oddness

2009-11-13T20:44:00.002-06:00

Monday, we had Kittyboy's BIG long evaluation with the school district. Since then, I have been pooped. So I'm writing it down now.
I suspect that when he has his first IEP (individual education plan, or words to that effect) December third, they are going to say, "Oh BOY does he qualify!" I'm actually kind of laughing and shaking my head about it. I've said for at least a year that he is a distilled, purified collection of all the quirks in my family. When you put them all together, you get the social worker who talked to us saying, "I don't know, some of this is pretty well 'on the spectrum'," but if she met everyone whose genetics he shares who's said, "Hey, I did such-and-such", she would see it as more coincidental than alarming.
One of her concerns was my answer to whether he plays with a group, or by himself, when with peers. I'd already said he gets along GREAT with older kids. I pictured the preschool crowd after church, and said he'd be wherever the toy he wanted was - but playing with it solo, not partnering with anyone else. Unless it's a chasing and squealing game, of course (duh). Her forehead looked concerned at that, so I explained that it's not that he doesn't like the other kids, he interacts happily with anything chasey-squealy, it's that he knows how HE wants to play with that dollhouse (yes, dollhouse) and he'd rather just be the one playing with it than have to work it out with another kid. He arranges stuff, points to it and says stuff, then lays down on his tummy to survey his work. It got to be a long and clumsy explanation, because I kept avoiding phrases like, "He has all the 'play' laid out in his head" and other such terms that might REALLY imply something wrong. But that's what it is, and I know, because I did that. I DO that. She didn't see that explanation as comforting. Isn't she glad I didn't mention his phase of assaulting other toddlers that Misty theorized had something to do with eye contact and a first-strike approach to making sure the other kids kept their distance (but he smiled big and wide the whole time, because he wanted to be friendly, which was actually more disturbing from a horror movie standpoint than if he'd looked mad)? I mean, I could have told her some really weird stuff. She should thank me for not having done so.
She described him using our favorite adjective, "scattered", meaning that no one told him you're supposed to learn things in a certain order, and so he isn't, or perhaps someone did tell him and he just laughed, which is actually more likely. She also said his definition of sharing ("I give you this, you give me that thing you have that I want!") is not sharing. It's bribery. We laughed and said that's why we call it the Sharing GAME. He's two, seriously. Sharing is a game, and it's how you get what you want! She didn't have much of a sense of humor. We, on the other hand, kept finding things to laugh at. Like she asked about his temper - we said he will go along quite amiably and pleasantly so long as he wishes to, and when he no longer wishes to, he doesn't. And then I started giggling again. "So is he stubborn?" We said, "When he wants to be!" and of course I giggled at that too. Had she never met a Boss Child before? (the phenomenon of Boss Children will be its own post at some point)
When the three therapists who had been following Kittyboy came back, I described the odd clumsiness we see sometimes, that I thought they wouldn't see because it seems to be more of a problem in places he knows better (where he then pays less attention), and they said they had definitely been wondering about that. They also said they wanted us to have his vision tested. They couldn't get him properly "conditioned" for the test, so they can't really say if he failed or not, but he didn't do well, he blinked and squinted a lot and then did better when they brought the card up much closer to his face. Considering that when Grandma was in the hospital in Missouri, Kittyboy was playing "Where's Waldo?" with crosses - there would be a crucifix by a reception desk across a large lobby and he would see it - and his scalpel-sharp vision for anything church related or anything that interests him (anything Veggie Tales, anything Winnie the Pooh), I attribute it to processing, not mechanics. I'm sure his eyes are just fine, just like all his hearing tests that showed him hearing better than I do, back when he was playing deaf in therapy. But we've got an appointment for him New Year's Eve to rule out a very early need for glasses. The more we rule out, the clearer the real issues become.
Monday, we had five people besides ourselves - nurse, social worker, OT, ST, and psychologist. December third, we will have eight. It just gets curiouser and curiouser!

Happy Fall!

2009-11-05T08:42:00.000-06:00

We are having gorgeous weather, and have been outside raking leaves, running through leaves, jumping in leaves, and of course, throwing leaves! Here is Kittyboy looking all handsome and outdoorsy.

His bestest pal Puppygirl was over Tuesday, and great loads of leafy fun were had by all. We even made progress on my project of raking all the leaves into the garden. My idea is that the little fence around it will hold them there until such time as we get around to burning the whole 12'x12' plot, thus eliminating both the need to rake and rake and rerake, AND the need to haul the ashes over to the garden after burning. Yeah, I'm pretty excited!

When Toddlers Name Things

2009-10-29T19:59:00.001-05:00

I still have my first teddybear. My mother is amazed he's still in one piece, since he's stuffed with rapidly degrading foam and covered with paper-thin fleecey stuff that has almost completely peeled off. Actually all that's left is the foam, turning to dust, in a netting that is the only reason Argle is still a bear. Yes, I named him Argle. How articulate were YOU on your first or second Christmas? Argle is what I called him, and so Argle was his name.
Kittyboy has a bear in a nurse outfit from his hospital stay, named Apple. As in the fruit, presumably. We don't know why. The yellow cichlid in a tank in the kitchen is Peekoo because that is how he says peekaboo, and she plays peekaboo with him, or so he believes. So Peekoo makes sense, but the world will never know why the nurse bear is Apple.
Better than Apple, though, is the fish we bought today. We went and bought a pleco to eat our algae in the big fish tank, and after we recovered from the unbearable excitement of BUYING A FISHIE, and poor fishie had gotten over the terror of being carried by a toddler and come out of hiding in the tank, I asked Kittyboy what he wanted to name his fishie. "Gank oo."
"So fishie's name is Gankoo?"
"Gank oo Gah."
"Your fish? What are you naming your fish?" I can't have heard that right...
"Gank oo Gah. Fishie gank oo Gah." He's used to having to repeat himself and clarify; obviously Mommy just wasn't understanding him.
"Your fish is named 'Thank you God'."
"Fishie GankooGah!" Proud happy smile, he has made Mommy understand now! Sometimes mommies just don't catch on the first or third time, you know.
As sweet as that is, I suspect there is indeed logic behind it, besides the precious thought that he is grateful to God for having created fishies to be our pets. One of his favorite meals is fish sticks, and he knows where food comes from and that God's creatures taste good. As we left Petsmart, he said, "Eat fishie?" and I had said no, this is a pet fishie, not for eating.
"Thank you God" is the prayer we taught him to say before meals..............

"The Song Remains The Same" - i.e. therapy is continuing

2009-10-19T21:09:00.002-05:00

Therapy continues. Both speech and OT.
Kind of annoyed, but okay with it - should there appear a problem beyond just slow development, it is easier to show and seek treatment for if Kittyboy's already being followed. I can see the logic in keeping after him Just In Case. We could say, "Oh, I'm sure he'll have his pronouns straightened out and be speaking in complete sentences by the time he's, oh, four" but then what happens when he IS four, and still not using a, an, the, is, are, etc? Better that he be already receiving services and have the problem documented over time than have to start again. We know he's very intelligent, and he spends the whole day being spoken to, interacting with people, he loves being read to, but his speech scores are very inconsistent, and they shouldn't be. He should, at coming up on three, be giving a yes or no answer, saying a COMPLETE sentence (as in "The airplane went up in the sky" not "Airplane up sky"), and understandable three-fourths of the time by strangers - without context. He's understandable about fifty percent of the time with no context. If WE don't have context, we often have to play the guessing game. So speech continues - he qualifies because of articulation, but it's a good idea for word order and everything else as well.
And OT - Bree has been mentioning that he trips a lot in Speech, and Ginny's been noticing it too. We are continuing OT primarily to improve body awareness. When he's paying attention, he's a mountain goat, when not, he bounces off of walls (then again, I shouldn't talk, as I attempted to close a car door on my leg this morning - and I wasn't in the car). OT is continuing for sensory issues, basically.
So... huh. Kind of a let down. But not really, just a continuation. Nothing's CHANGED. He's just not all straightened out yet. And hey, he's my kid, he'll be forgetting to eat and closing car doors on his leg when he's 28.

The New "It" Music; or, The Byzantine Toddler

2009-10-16T20:41:00.002-05:00

The Pascha right after Kittyboy came home, we got a CD of Paschal hymns from Greece. "From Greece" meaning that not only was the chanting entirely in Greek, there was no English on the packaging or the CD itself. This was GREEK.
And while it was majestic, transporting, awe-inspiring, and made me so crave to attend the church where that man chants, I could NOT sing along. Mr. Frank, at church, is on a whole different level from me in chanting, I mean, he Is A Chanter. But compared to me, the chanter on this CD is from another PLANET. It wasn't that I didn't know the hymns, it was that the style and ornamentation were so very Byzantine that I just couldn't follow. I was proud of myself just for being able to sing the harmony for the Glory To The Father.
Kittyboy wanted to take his Mary music ("Mayee! Faytokos! Mama God!) in the car with us to run errands. I grabbed that CD and what I thought was one of our recordings of chant in English, and gave him the choice. He chose the second - and boy was I mistaken, that wasn't a fancy font on the disc, that was Greek. It was the ultra-Byzantine CD.
Kittyboy's only heard the more ornate chanting three times, Pascha when he was four months, a year and four months, and two years and four months, and that's from Mr. Frank. He'd never heard anything quite like THIS. I figured I'd give it a couple tracks and see if he changed his mind. Change his mind he did not. We got to the first store in our three-store trip, and he didn't want the music to stop playing. I turned off the car - "Jesus music?" "No, we have to go inside now." "Jesus music inside? Okay." Thankfully he accepts me as a substitute for The Greek Guy. Every time I turned off the car, if the CD wasn't coming inside in his moist little hand, I had to start singing. Now it's the new sleeping music.

And the Speech news is....

2009-10-12T23:26:00.002-05:00

Kittyboy's delay six months ago was 28-34%, 30% being what is considered in need of therapy (hence he "qualified by four percent"). Delay today - 21%! Woohoo, not only holding fast in his own curve but gaining. Sweet. I didn't think he was losing, but the gain is a happy surprise. Bree says articulation is just borderline 50%, he still qualifies on that, but he's way more understandable than he was six months ago. Among the questions she asked was, "How does he get your attention?" By continuing to repeat the same phrase over and over and over and over and over and over until it's like the droning of bees. He doesn't raise his voice, which is nice, but if he didn't GET my attention to begin with initially, say I'm washing dishes or in the laundry room, for me it only registers as background noise. Which is why he's added the tactic of grabbing my clothes and getting right in front of me, or if he can reach, putting his hand on my shoulder, leaning in so our noses are practically touching, and repeating said garble directly eye-to-eye. SMART BOY. He's noticed Mommy doesn't necessarily "hear" him unless he makes contact. It doesn't mean I understand him per se, but hey, then I know it's not random babble, he's communicating something, and can then resort to "Why don't you just show me?"
OOH. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to teach him, "Mommy I need you." He should be able to repeat that, and I will tell him that's what he says when he needs me. Followed by, when he's got me, the request.
And, "How does he ask for help?" By bringing you the thing and waiting patiently until you decipher what is wrong, or crying if he can't bring it to you. If you prompt him, "How do you ask for help?" he will make a noise and sign it. Help is not a word I've ever heard.
The majority of the evaluation was with a large flip book of pictures, each of which came with an instruction - "Which of these do you eat with?" "Which baby is sleeping?" and progressing to my favorite, pictures of a broken bike, crayons and paper, a book in a chair, and the scenario, "Katie hurt her knee. What do you think she was doing?" YEAH RIGHT! I giggled silently, Bree nodded with an understanding smile, and Kittyboy stared blankly, then tried to turn the page. Bree said, "Well, I have to keep going until he misses seven in a row." Which he never DID. We would have been there all morning. She finally said his scores were just all over the place, there were low-level things he was missing (doesn't answer yes or no really), though he has most of that section, there was a chunk of middle stuff totally absent (for example, wouldn't point to the nest that had no eggs, the basket that had no apples, etc, and got all colors wrong except yellow), but then there's a scattering of upper-level stuff he does get. Overall it came to a 21% delay, which is acceptable, but she wants him to continue therapy, so as to fill in the blanks and start speaking more clearly. And get some basics like yes, no (he says no, but not as an answer, as imitating what I just told him when he does something wrong, or when I say he can't have something), asking for HELP, etc.
So the verdict is... whatever speech therapy the school district throws our way should be fine! I told Bree that being all over the place is what he does best - like last summer when Fe (the OT at the time) thought he was just a genius, and Terri the SLP said that verbally he had an 85% delay. And both were true, Kittyboy was doing things involving reasoning that he shouldn't have known how to do, AND six-month-olds I saw at church were using more open consonants than he was.
Predictable is boring. He wouldn't want to be boring.

Why I now wear a knee brace - A Cautionary Tale

2009-10-07T12:47:00.006-05:00

I now have a knee brace, courtesy of my doctor. I am a size medium in knee braces, which will be useful to know in case someone decides to buy me medical accessories for Christmas. I don't know why they would, but anyhow.
When Kittyboy came home, he had to be held at a goofy angle for bottlefeeding, and so to keep him at the right angle, he got fed propped on my crossed legs, and I spent a lot of my day on the floor sitting crosslegged. Up and down and up and down. Not that great for knees. One day I bent down from the changing table, screamed, and thought I wasn't going to be able to get back up. My left knee was in agony. My first thought was "No, this is really bad, I just blew out my knee." I did get back up, and of course I kept going, because I had an infant and a husband at work and had no choice, and by the time Husband came home, I thought the worst was over. And my knee did slowly get better, though it was stiff while it healed. But when it still hurt a month later, I went to our public aid doctor, because we had only public aid for insurance, and explained that I'd damaged my knee a month before, and though it was moving well again, it still hurt along the sides like it wasn't healing up well. She said it was arthritis. I said no, it isn't, it felt as if I'd torn something, and Tylenol doesn't do jack squat. She said to try other over-the-counter stuff. I went to Walmart, bought one bottle of everything generic, tried them all one after the other, and went back later to say, "They don't work completely, and I still say it's not arthritis." She said again that it WAS arthritis, and prescribed me Tramadol. That is a very powerful don't-mess-with-it painkiller. It's an opiate. I took one - my knee didn't hurt, for the first time in over a month. I was happy, I was so happy. My gosh, I could sleep pain-free again. Then I started noticing some balance problems while taking it (at the minimum dose of one a day). Basically, I got more and more sensitive to it, until I bought a knee brace and decided I was only taking it if I really, really could not stand the pain. I told myself, I've got a high pain tolerance, this stuff is scary, I have to do this. Then one day I just had to, I couldn't even sit comfortably, and an hour after taking it, I had the feeling of bugs in my skin. I was shaking. I had the symptoms of a heroin addict. I couldn't sleep. It took 24 hours before the "bugs" went away, and that was scary enough to make me not take it ever again no matter what, because obviously it and I were not compatible. Mind you, my knee didn't just hurt when I was moving it, it hurt at night when it was still. Our friend Carel and his brother were over that night, so I asked THREE football players (Husband played in high school) what they thought of what had happened with my knee, and all three said yes, it's a sports injury, everything I described was consistent with that, the doctor was an idiot.
And then we got insurance (nine months after the injury), we changed doctors as fast as humanly possible, and Dr. B said I'd ruptured a bursa (yes! I was right!), and a week of anti-inflammatories made everything better. Problem solved.
Moooostly.
Since then, every so often, I'll step wrong and put my knee out again - feels a little like the joint's going to bend in a way it shouldn't, hurts like the dickens, and then it continues to hurt for a couple days. After all that time that I kept using it until we got insurance, I figured there was no point in going back to the doctor, my knee is just as healed as it will ever get and I just have to put up with it.
So I put it out again Monday night, got up Tuesday morning, and thought it was better until I got out of bed and bent to pick up my jeans. THAT hurt. I went to our wonderful Dr. Hendricks at last, because I'm just tired of it and I can't keep up with a toddler this way. I was explaining the whole loooooong story to the nurse, said, "I went the first time, said I had a joint injury that didn't seem to be healing right, the doctor said it was arthritis and to try different OTC stuff, I went home and tried one of everything, went back and said nothing worked and 'by the way, I still say it's not arthritis,' and the doctor said, 'well I still think it is!' and gave me a prescription for Tramadol," and at that the nurse's eyebrows went up, and up, and up. I liked that expression. So writing a scrip for a powerful painkiller is indeed NOT typically the first thing you do when something hurts. I'm thinking you usually try to figure out WHY.
Dr. Hendricks' first question was whether ANYONE had thought to x-ray it, the answer to which is no. Dr. B diagnosed based on my description of what happened and the stiffness when it was healing, i.e. exactly what I told the first lady who swore it was arthritis, except the medicine he gave me worked, which is how we know he and I were right. But no, no one's x-rayed, so Dr. H ordered x-rays to see if there had been any skeletal damage. There hasn't been, which is really good to know - the knee's not growing any spurs or looking ground down, it really is JUST the bursa being re-aggravated.
And now we know that when this happens, I should wear a knee brace for a couple weeks, rest the joint as much as possible, elevate when possible, take anti-inflammatories, and let it heal again. With arthritis you do exactly the opposite, since there you want to keep the joint moving so it doesn't freeze up. This is why you should make very sure what the injury IS when a joint hurts, because if it's one and you treat for the other, you WILL make it worse, either way, guaranteed. Taking pain relievers to keep moving was the worst thing I could have done.
If I'd gone immediately and gotten treated for the right thing immediately, it could have healed completely and this wouldn't be an ongoing chronic thing. It also might not have - the initial damage felt pretty significant - but at least it would have had a chance. Yesterday I told Husband, who was REALLY upset with the first doctor, that it's truly both our faults, because I KNEW she was wrong, and I should have either kept harping until I got somewhere, OR said, "You know what, she may be clueless, but I do know what happened, I'll just ask around on my own and find out what to do for a sports-type injury." I didn't even do THAT, I just ignored it. I could also have tried to change doctors at the clinic. What I should NOT have done is sat down and shut up after the second appointment.
I now realize that telling myself "Well, as long as my knee doesn't hurt, whatever..." is the same thing as saying, "If I don't open the overdue bills, they'll just go away."
REALLY DUMB.
But my knee IS feeling better faster with the brace during the day and the Lodine, and a lesson has been learned!

The Next, and Last, IFSP

2009-10-05T15:09:00.002-05:00

So, the next and last IFSP for Kittyboy is going to be two weeks from today. I don't know why therapists don't get more than two weeks notice, considering the paperwork involved in evals and reports, but there you have it.
As I've mentioned, we anticipate Kittyboy TOTALLY clearing OT. There's nothing going on sensory-wise that we can't handle. And I would have expected him to leave Speech behind as well, except... the older he gets, the higher they raise the bar. He MAY still qualify, because although he's attained two-year-old level verbal language (a stranger could understand probably 50% of what he says), a three-year-old is expected to be understood 75% of the time (again, by a stranger who is unfamiliar with his particular "dialect"). The equation is 25% per year of age. Yes, that does mean that you should be able to understand one hundred percent of what your four-year-old tells you. When Bree told me that this morning, I STARED at her, and then I said I'd known many kindergartners in SCOPE who REALLY, REALLY, REALLY qualified for speech therapy.
I once had a conversation with an absolutely precious five-year-old girl, who was getting anxious because her mommy was running later than normal. I asked her what her mommy's car looked like, and she said it was a "gavudabu". A what? "It's a gavudabu!" And that was the only description I could get. Clearly, that was supposed to tell me something very significant about her mother's vehicle. After some time, the light came on - CONVERTIBLE. "Is her car a convertible?" "Thas wha I said, a gavudabu!" Yup. (Should I ever have a convertible, my license plate will be GAVDBU).
We've got Kittyboy saying "potty" when he needs to go, because "toilet" (though he does say it) sounds like a fourth of his vocabulary. It has to be something we can understand. I guess a lot of his speech we do translate from context - tractor and chocolate, for example, are not much distinguished from each other.
And he'll be three on Christmas, so that's the standard they'll be using. Since what he will say far outranks what even WE actually understand, he may well still need Speech, I don't know. It's not vocab, his vocabulary is GREAT - it's enunciation. (Man, they're picky!) But yeah, I can see where enunciation would be almost as important as vocabulary - can't communicate if you're not understood.
Dilemma - if he still qualifies, it will be the school district which picks up his therapy. Good news, they do have to provide services whether or not he goes, and what they provide will be free - bad news, they do not provide as MUCH to children who aren't attending. A kid in Early Start or Headstart or whatever they call it might get half an hour twice a week - one who's not attending might get half an hour every other week, or even just once a month, in which case, what's the point. We can go to Childrite where he's been going, privately, though insurance would NOT pay for it (we already know this).
Off the top of my head, if he does still qualify, my ideas are as follows -
Discuss by what percentage he still qualifies, and find out how important they think it is that he does continue to receive services. If it's the same small percentage by which he qualified six months ago, then he's just continuing to progress at the same delayed rate, no big deal. If, on the other hand, he qualified by 4% six months ago, and now qualifies by much more because of the higher expectations of being 3 (i.e., he's not maintaining the same learning curve, but instead falling further behind others in his age group), eeehhh, we'll see how much the district WILL do if he doesn't attend preschool, and whether Bree thinks it's enough to be worth it.
IF the delay, relatively speaking, is something that warrants continued therapy, and IF Bree thinks the "out-patient" district services aren't going to be enough, we would have things to think about. One thought being, eeehhh, find out how many hours a day Headstart, Early Start, whatever it is, is, and how flexible they are on attendance, and go from there.
It's all academic though, until the evals are done. I just like to keep in mind, "Okay, worst case scenario, what would we do next?" Something I learned from my dad, WHO, by the way, has a blog now, speedscreed.blogspot.com. I highly recommend it.

Killed a Spider - Still Jumpy

2009-10-01T13:21:00.001-05:00

I have so far managed to not raise a fellow arachnophobe, only because Kittyboy's not that observant. I took down a basket of stuff for him to play with, out crawled a white recluse. And since Young-And-Impressionable was at my side, I could NOT scream my head off and leave the room. Worse, my son sat down NEXT TO the basket, and started pulling things from it oblivious to the large white spider running around the rim of the basket. I managed somehow, I don't know how, to keep from actually making any sound whatsoever, I grabbed a book, knocked the spider off, and tried to smoosh it. Spiders are resilient. Since it was on carpet, the first THREE TIMES I picked up the book, it kept running around. I had to put ALL my weight on the book and move it around before I picked it up and spider was no more. Kittyboy sat happily playing the whole time completely ignoring me. So then I just sat there holding my knees and shaking for a few minutes. I. HATE. SPIDERS.

Half an hour later, I'm still twitching.
I. SERIOUSLY. HATE. SPIDERS.
Give me a bull snake in the bathroom any day of the week.

A Day at the Park; or, Kittyboy Not Allergic to Bees

2009-09-29T20:36:00.003-05:00

The knitting group I've attended off and on (more off than on), and a homeschool group I need to start attending are merging experimentally at a great time and a great place - Tuesday afternoons, at Washington Park! Take the toddler, take a washcloth-in-progress - best of all worlds!
Turns out, there's a limit how much you can knit while chasing Kittyboy. But it was still a really fun afternoon. First I had to convince him that he COULD play without me looking over his shoulder - that he was perfectly fine playing with me sitting on a bench instead of following him. Then I had the opposite problem, trying to get him to play at the jungle gym near where I was sitting, instead of the one across the park! (So, that's a "Yes!" to independent play!)
He had lots of fun with the other random toddlers who happened to be playing where he was. They spent a lot of time pointing at each other and saying various things that weren't all that intelligible. WHEE, however, is understood by all! WHEE is universal!
He also got pointed out as a good example! His climbing skills are QUITE proficient, and another mom used him to try and teach her son who was maybe a few months younger how climbing works. "See where he puts his feet? And then he uses his legs, and then he pulls himself up!" Again and again, time after time, as both boys enjoyed the tornado slide - the one scampering up with ease, while the other used the "mommy elevator".
He did a somersault down the tornado slide once, apparently because he couldn't decide whether to go down sitting up or feet-first on his tummy, and so he decided to do both at once. Didn't phase him. I'm not sure he realized what happened.
He wanted very much to do the rock wall - if he were just an inch taller, he'd be doing it, easy. Boy loves to climb. And is good at it. 'Nuff said.
I learned a few things. 1) apparently any mom in a skirt can substitute for me if he wants one and she's closer. He chatted at length with one lady about a ball he had found. His end of the conversation was mainly, "Ball - yeah!" He grabbed his Aunt Carey by the hand, said, "Mommy!" (news to her!), pulled her over to the teeter-totter, and said, "Bounce! You bounce, up-down!" and she did the teeter-totter with him until I rescued her. Which I admit to not doing as fast as I could have.
2) Kittyboy is not allergic to bee stings. Useful knowledge, since a hive has taken up residence in a hole in our yard (we put shoes on him when he plays in the yard, and have pointed it out as a spot to stay away from). There were several flying around the playground, evidently he put his hand down on one and it stung him. He came running to me with that high-pitched squealing cry that means Something Actually Is Wrong, and the bee still stuck in his palm! Yeah, that was fun. I flicked the bee off, carried him squealing over to Carey and her friend Shannon and asked, "So have you ever removed a sting before?" Shannon got it out, by which time he'd calmed down considerably. He snuggled for a while, but went back to playing pretty quickly. All that swelled was his hand, and that not too much. So hey, now we know - not allergic. Or afraid of flying insects - after the bunsen burner/candle equation, I would have thought a bee sting would make him afraid of anything small and winged. Not so, to my great relief.
3) Somersaults down tornado slides - fun. Somersaults down stairs - not. More tears, a bleeding lip and skinned nose, more snuggling. While we snuggled and rocked, I asked him, "Do we want to go home now?" He sobbed, "Nooooo!" And soon went back to playing.
All in all, it was a very good day with moments of not-so-goodness. But a wonderful day overall!

Tot School

2009-09-25T14:17:00.005-05:00

I have found a lovely blog for homeschooling preschool - the creatively named 1plus1plus1equals1 (think about it... think about it...) written by Carisa. "Tot school" is a Montessori-style of preschool based on educational play (which is what preschool is, or should be, right?). And Carisa has all sorts of wonderful ideas, tips, tools, and just plain encouragement for anyone homeschooling under the age of five. I found Tot School by following another wonderful homeschooling blog, Making the most of being at home.
Montessori is SO the way to go. I keep reading again and again, "Just give the child what you want him to learn with and see what he does with it." So that's what I'm trying to do now. It makes things a lot less frustrating, actually, and come to find, the lesson gets learned anyway.
Example - I have been beating my head on a brick wall trying to help Kittyboy match things. He has these word cards that he loves looking at (they're Winnie the Pooh), and I figured we could use them for matching. Lay out two cards, hold up one, and ask which one matches the one you're holding. We both HATE this game, him because I'm interrupting his fun and he doesn't know what I want of him, and me because beating your head on a brick wall starts to hurt after a while. But therapists want him to match things, and I want him to match things, and I'm sure he wants to match things just so I'll quit bugging him.
Better idea - give him the cards and see what he does. I ended up with matching pairs carefully strewn (I love that phrase) all over the living room. He's getting there, just in his own time, under his own steam, and in his own way. And how he did it, he was actually picking matches from more than two at a time, because he dumped the whole box and THEN started sorting. He just didn't like how I was doing it.
Next I'm going to just give him his whole "colors drawer" and see what he does with all the fabric swatches! Will he sort them by patterns, or by colors? Or will he use them all as blankets for small toys? Whatever he does, it'll be a learning experience!

(Carisa, if you read this, I am going to try and do a weekly Tot School post, assuming of course that I can figure out how McLinky works!)

Oh my gosh, he's NAPPING

2009-09-25T14:00:00.002-05:00

My son has not taken a nap since last Saturday. Which is bad enough on its own, but since evidently he does still need the sleep, his 7-7:30 bedtime has been creeping backwards. Wednesday night, I believe it was, I had to put him down at SIX. That's insane. No one goes to bed that early. I wouldn't mind except that A) I would prefer a break in the middle of the day, and B) I am then trapped in the house until Husband comes home at 9:30. No after-dinner, "Oh drat, I need such-and-such for breakfast tomorrow," really quick errands or anything. And, at his old bedtime, a 7 p.m. church service is only stretching his awake time by an hour or so, that's doable. When he's melting down at 6, nighttime services are impossible. If I thought it would ensure a nap, I'd keep him up until 8 - but when the toddler needs to sleep, the toddler NEEDS TO SLEEP. You can only mess with bedtime just so far.
Shucks.

Better than Reality TV

2009-09-22T19:58:00.002-05:00

(okay, to be honest, ANYTHING'S better than reality television, but that was my friend Carey's response to this post in e-mail form)
Taking the Cat and Kid to the Vet:
I called the vet to ask advice on our cat Harriet's recent litterbox issues, and the receptionist said it could be a UTI. Fun. So since they had an opening at 4:30 that afternoon, I jumped on it. Keep in mind, the toddler chose yesterday to NOT NAP. And I had to take them both.
So I got the cat in the carrier, that was fun, and I explained to Kittyboy that kitty doesn't feel good, and so she needs to go See Doctor. See Doctor is a magical phrase with which he is VERY familiar, and he kept pointing at Harriet, crying in her carrier, and asking, "Kiy okay? Kiy [high pitched] 'wa wa wa'! Kiy okay?" I told him she was going to BE okay after seeing the doctor, just like he is okay after he sees the doctor, and that he should reassure her that he has experience with doctors and doctors make you Okay. So the whole way to the vet, he was saying, "Kiy, okay. Kiy, okay. Kiy be okay. Kiy see doctor. Kiy okay." And I told him she was just crying because she doesn't like her "car seat", and that he is a very big boy for riding so nicely in his. But she doesn't like hers, so she cries about it.
When I put Harriet down at the counter, Kittyboy sat next to her and kept up the monologue of reassurance, but was distressed when they took her back to weigh her. "Kiy? Kiy? Kiy? Kiy? Kiy?" I told him they would bring her back, but he wasn't convinced. They brought her back, then we all went back to the room, where the toddler was not so understanding about why kitty was on the table and he wasn't. He likes sitting on examining tables. He's very good at it. It's what he does at the doctor. And he kept up his talking the whole time I was talking to the vet, about kitty and kitty see doctor and kitty okay?
He was okay until they took her out for the urine test (how do you get urine from a cat who won't go? a needle!!!! through the abdomen!!!), and then he was very upset, and when I said we were NOT going back to the waiting room (where they had coloring books and a little table), he did the screaming-and-arching thing. I had to sort of pretzel him, like Alice in Wonderland with the baby pig, and sing Hail Holy Queen many times. Hey, at least they did all that out of his sight, if not out of his hearing, I can only imagine the din if they were stabbing his kitty with a needle and Harriet was yowling and fighting and him screaming because his kitty was being hurt, THAT would have been a disaster. So it was good that they did the urine testing in the back. We could hear her, though. She's LOUD. (Well heck, if it were me, I'd be plenty loud and there'd be injuries involved)
Then they brought her back, and the doctor said she didn't have any blockages or stones, but her urine did look "chunky" (umm... chunky???) and the test for infection would take about ten minutes. Kittyboy wanted to see her, so I set him on the table next to her, and he went on about kitty being okay, and said, "You kiy snuggle?" (I snuggle kitty?) I said kitty had to stay in her carrier, but he could snuggle her when we got home (thinking, "she won't be that snuggly..."), and so he put his arms around the carrier and rested his head on top and said, "You kiy snuggle." It was so precious!!!
And then I read him his Jonah book that he'd brought, easily a couple dozen times - it's a short book. And doctor came back and said poor Miss Harriet had TWO strains of bacteria, boy oh BOY did she have an infection, and she would have two medications, one to make her comfortable while the other kicks her infections' collective backsides. So we went to check out, Harriet was quietly growling in her carrier ("Kiy rrr rrr rrr!"), and in the waiting room, there was a PUPPY. A boxer puppy, so, you know, dog-size. And toddler saw puppy, and puppy saw toddler, and we had a contest going of whose "puppy" would stay under control for longer. Puppy was on a leash, hurling himself at the end of the leash in fact, trying to get to that little human who looked so friendly, and his owner was sitting on the floor with her heels dug in trying to keep him back, and Kittyboy was standing at the corner of the counter pointing and saying "Doggie! Doggie! Doggie!" and just when the puppy would be back under control, then he would run forward a yard or so, and I would have to yell STOP and call him back, and it sounded for all the world like we were both corralling dogs. "Stop! Sit! Stay! Come back here!" And of course my telling Kittyboy to "heel" as we went through the waiting room - we've been practicing "heel", which if you think about it, is an efficient, single-word command meaning, "Don't pull ahead, don't lag behind, stay right at my side and nowhere else." What better command to teach a toddler? But it does sound odd to people.
We stopped at the other side of the counter to sign more stuff, and the puppy scooted up to Kittyboy, in a "play bow" pose the whole way, just soooo wanting to play with him, toddler reached to pet him, and Harriet, in carrier next to him, GROWLED. Actually, her growl is more like a ROAR. Very loud, sudden ROAR from the small cat carrier, like I was transporting a miniature circus lion. That poor puppy jumped back three feet, in the air, and cowered next to his owner. Harriet HATES dogs. Harriet's ten pounds. The puppy had to be three times that. Apparently it's all about volume.
Kittyboy then had a tantrum for unknown reasons outside the office (perhaps because his kitty scared off the nice doggie?), he didn't get particularly happier when I told him I was NOT carrying him and Harriet, he had to walk, he had no choice. He did walk. "Kiy okay? Kiy [low growly voice] 'rrr rrrr rrr'. Kiy okay?" Then he started bawling when we got to the car, saying, "Kiy wy you? Kiy wy you? Kiy wy you? Kiy wy you?" which I interpreted to mean "Kitty ride with me?" and I kept telling him, KITTY WAS RIDING WITH HIM. KITTY WAS IN THE CAR, RIGHT NEXT TO HIM. HE WAS RIDING WITH KITTY. ALL WAS WELL. He kept it up the whole way home, loudly, while crying, non-stop, possibly without breathing, "KIY WY YOU?KIY WY YOU?KIY WY YOU?KIY WY YOU?KIY WY YOU?" if you can imagine that, for twenty minutes straight.
That he then addressed, "Kiy wy you?" to Harriet specifically as I was letting her out of her carrier, makes me think he was instead asking kitty if SHE was all right. "Kitty, all right you?" or something like that. I went down to the computer to e-mail Husband what the damages were, about the medications and all that, and Kittyboy came running down WITH her medication. "Kiy mecine? Kiy mecine? Okay!" Kittyboy likes to take medicine, so kitty should like taking medicine, right? I told him we would wait for Daddy to come home and Daddy would give her medicine. Well, Kittyboy thought he had a better idea. He proceeded to chase Harriet around the house, in his eager-to-help, well-meaning way, waving her bottle of pills, saying enthusiastically, "Kiy mecine! Kiy mecine! Kiy mecine! Kiy mecine!" "Kitty, come back here! I have your medicine! Don't you want your medicine? I like medicine! Medicine is yummy! You should take your medicine!"
It just doesn't get any better than that.
And yes, Harriet is feeling much better now.

Toddler Conversation

2009-09-18T12:22:00.003-05:00

"See Mayee! You see Mayee!" (boy refers to himself as "you")
"Yes, you see Mary." (he was in the hallway looking at an icon)
"Mayee (garblegarble) Tokos! Fay Tokos!"
"Yes, good job! Yes, Mary is the Theotokos!" (we had been working on that word)
"Fay Tokos mean Mama God."
"YES, Theotokos means Mother of God! Wow, you have been paying attention!"
"Mayee Fay Tokos Mama God!" (with that little "What a good boy I am!" giggle)
I think my little theologian deserves chocolate!

The Elevation of the Cross

2009-09-14T17:39:00.005-05:00

After forgetting the Nativity of the Theotokos until The Day Of, now the SECOND of the two biggest holidays in September sneaks up on me with even less warning - didn't know until I sat down to read blogs during Kittyboy's nap. I knew the Elevation was the 14th - I also believed the 14th to be tomorrow.
Fortunately, Kittyboy DID take a nap today, and I attacked my craft drawers for popsicle sticks, glue, whatever I could find. Father usually celebrates the Elevation on the Sunday immediately preceding, which was yesterday, when we were out of town at a family reunion, so obviously we'd missed out on church. This is the feast day celebrating the finding of the Holy Cross by St. Helen, and there is a procession around the church with a cross carried on a tray decorated with flowers. Tray, cross, flowers, that much I could come up with.

The cross is popsicle sticks glued together, and the base of it (so that it stands up) is a hairspray cap. Yes, I was scraping the bottom of the barrel here, I need to start stocking up on craft supplies. But it was a cross that would stand up, and I traced a cross on construction paper that he could color. And when Kittyboy woke up, we went outside to pick flowers! As you can see, he was very happy with the popsicle-stick cross, and insisted it had to come along with us.
I hadn't come up with anything clever for a tray - I never entertain, I had no little trays about to press into service, so I decided he could decorate a "tray" himself. I did think to take his shirt off and lay down newspaper before handing him his very first paint brush!It doesn't show well in the picture, but it was green, yellow and gold paint. Within it, he painted a lot of crosses, or so he told me. And no paint got onto carpet, and only a little on his shorts, which were cut-off sweat shorts anyway.

I had cut pages from an icon calendar a couple years old, and the September one was naturally the Elevation of the Cross, and so we sat with the icon and I read the text that went along with it, and he helped me put mums around the cross on the tray.
As you can see from his coloring sheet, he is very proud of his new-found ability to draw straight lines and circles. He drew many of both.
Sadly, future family reunions are likely to always be the second Sunday in September (they switched it just this year from Labor Day weekend, we'd not even thought about a conflict with a feast day), three hours away in the Champaign area - BUT, we can still be in church for the Elevation if we leave here way early and attend at Three Hierarchs there in Champaign.
Next year, we'll make it!

Fun with Shapes

2009-09-10T23:06:00.003-05:00

I hadn't had any luck thus far with any shapes, but colors are starting to catch on, so I was going to keep going on colors today, but this morning he started pointing at random mostly-round things and saying, "Circle! Circle! Circle!" so plans changed! He is now into shapes!
And here is his shapes drawer:The shapes book, a puzzle, and propped up in the back of the drawer are his cards. I'm having good luck with the "drawer per subject" approach, he sees all his options and goes for whatever catches his fancy, and sees that he has MORE options if the first fails to hold his interest, so you don't have to keep bringing him back to show him what else he can do. And with it all being one theme, he sees the same shapes over and over. He calls squares rectangles, which technically they are, and the shapes book points that out - that a rectangle has four sides and four square corners, and that special ones where the sides are all equal are called squares. I switched out the Theotokos for St. Catherine of Alexandria, patroness of scholars. Makes sense for a school - and we can celebrate our "school's" feastday in November!
He's learning, too, that when we sit at our desk, we're going to do something fun - he likes to sit down and choose a drawer to play with.
He is going to blow them away when he gets re-evaluated next month.
And below is our updated space: I just love my drawers!!!

Nativity of the Theotokos

2009-09-08T20:24:00.004-05:00

This morning I realized out of the clear blue sky, listening to the daily readings, that it was the Feast of the Nativity of the Theotokos, and I had nothing planned for Kittyboy in the way of a lesson or activity or anything, not even an icon of the feast to show him. I have got to start sitting down with the church calendar and start planning ahead.
So I told him, "Guess what! It's Mary's birthday!" We're working on the term Theotokos, he sometimes will call her Mary-toko, but she's still his Mary. (I like Mary-toko, personally, it's very cute). I told him that meant it was the day his Mary was born (obviously), but kinda left it at that, for lack of inspiration.
Then we took a walk and along the bike trail are scores of tall sunflowers, very tall plants but with small flowers coming off the main stem. I just love them, I'm going to go walking there in a few weeks and collect seeds. Kittyboy wanted one, so I picked him a couple, and then I said, "Oh, you know what, we should take these home for Mary for her birthday!" We went home, snipped some of my geranium and a bunch of my mums, and made a bouquet, brought one of our icons of the Theotokos over to his desk, and put it there with the bouquet.

The fact that there's a candle lit is a testament of his love for his Mary. Kittyboy was a little traumatized by having dinner at a hibachi grill, where the chef lit the grill on fire. Since then, he's been very, very afraid of fires - but until Sunday, he was still fine with candles. Well, this Sunday, he apparently made the connection, and became so hysterical when we lit a candle that we had to go home. Sunday evening, we tried lighting candles here to show him they're not dangerous, and he would barely touch an unlit one - and wouldn't go anywhere near one that was burning, cried and cried (we were trying to get him to blow one out). I lit a scented one when we were having lunch today, on the other side of the table, and he tried to escape from his booster chair. Well, so after he kissed his Mary and put her up on his desk and I put the glass with the flowers in front of her, I went and got a candle, and said, "How about we light a pretty candle for Mary? Candles are so pretty, and it's her birthday." He whimpered when the match sizzled, but he didn't cry, I put it in front of the icon, and kept talking about it being a pretty candle for her birthday, and when I sat down in a chair in front of it and called him to me, he came - carefully and never taking his eyes off the candle, lest it do something sudden, but he came (thank you Mother of God!). And he sat on my lap without complaint while I told him about how Theotokos mean Mother of God, and I sang Axion Esti, "It is truly meet to call thee blessed," and told him about what that hymn means and all, and why we call Mary blessed, and then he took his eyes off of Mary and the candle long enough to lean back and look at me - "Mommy sing?" So I kept singing, and kept singing, and he was okay. He wouldn't blow the candle out himself, but he let me bring it just close enough I could blow it out. Anything for Mary!
Tomorrow, I think I will replace the Theotokos with my St. Catherine, Patroness of Scholars, and we will light a candle when we pray before starting school!

Our Homeschooling Space

2009-09-08T13:12:00.004-05:00

Firstly, THE COMPUTER WORKS AGAIN!!! Meaning I can post pictures and whatnot, and much as I love my Gig, the desktop makes it far easier to accomplish a lot at once.
Here is the promised picture of Kittyboy on his first day of school, flipping through icon cards at his little yellow activity desk, listening to the daily readings.

I like this little desk, and it can be found at most crafting stores for around $8. You can't see in the picture, but the shelves the desk is in front of hold all his school stuff, and so it was all in one place and it was School. We have this ongoing conflict in our house, however, over vertical versus horizontal storage. My theory, only a theory, is that if we had more open space in general, the place would feel more open in general and be easier to keep clean - fewer things filling open space would make it easier to notice as clutter builds. Problem with his desk where it is, is that it's yet another thing on the floor.
Yesterday, we took advantage of Husband's day off to move furniture in the living room, and by accident discovered an actual homeschool space. I have this antique washstand, used formerly as a changing table, then as a collect-everything-next-to-the-door table, and I moved it from next to the door to in a corner by the dinner table. I was envisioning storing silverware and whatnot in it as a sideboard sort of thing. Then I realized that where it was, I could just turn his chair around to it from the table, and presto! A school desk!

We did colors this morning - he has flashcards with blocks of colors, flashcards with the name of the color written IN the color (so he can match the word Red, written in red, with the card that's red), his Colors Book, and fabric swatches. Red, blue and green are still problematic, but now it's more blue and green than anything else. He gets red sometimes. Orange, purple, yellow, pink, and brown, he's pretty good with. He has until he's five, Ginny says, and if he's still shaky on red-blue-green or blue-green, that's when we ask the doctor about color blindness. Last week he was calling all three blue, this week blue and green are both green. Ginny left her beading activity bag at our house last week, and I had it set up to return when we see her next, and guess who found it! So we named the colors of the beads, too. The trick will be hiding it somewhere he can't get it, but where I will remember it!

I love that little "I did it!" grin!

And this is his colors drawer! "The Colors Book" is one of the Britannica Discovery Library series. I was freecycled a big bag of upholstery fabric samples months and months ago, and went through just this morning pulling out different colored swatches for his drawer.
I think I will move the drawers and stack them in the corner on the washstand, because if they're stored across the room instead of right there, it will increase the likelihood of stuff not being put away promptly. I wouldn't have that kind of freedom of reorganizing if I'd gone with my original idea of a basket for each subject - my mom got me the drawers. I'm now seeing that they'll be much more versatile and take up less space in the long run. You can't stack baskets, and it would have contributed to the general appearance of clutter that I'm trying to avoid. Thank you, Mommy!

Our First Day of School - my son tries to kill me!

2009-09-01T19:35:00.003-05:00

Okay, he didn't mean to. And it wasn't related to school. But it was still funny.
School first!
Kittyboy loves sitting at his yellow plastic desk from Hobby Lobby, and I've got enough of a variety of STUFF that doing everything in five minute chunks keeps him happy. Read a book, do a puzzle, try to match cards for a bit, do the puzzle again, read another book. I like my set-up with six clear drawers, because he can just jump up when he's done and grab what he wants to do next, we don't have to guess, so that eliminates a potential frustration. We are trying what Misty advised to lengthen his tolerance of sitting - "Okay, one more, and then we can be all done," and it works okay.
I will post pictures, when the household computer is either working or replaced (I'm on my little XO laptop and can't get photos uploaded), of Kittyboy with his icon cards, listening to the daily readings from Husband's phone. That's going to be the start of the day - not readings during breakfast anymore, but at his desk. Great start to the day!
Thursday I will ask Ginny just out of curiosity, how do you test for colorblindness, and at what age? It just struck me today that some colors, he's starting to get right, and it's not so random - but blue, red and green were all consistently blue today. Huh, odd.
And now for the attempt on my life!
Yesterday, I had Kittyboy carry all the bricks, stones, and bits of broken concrete that ring our flower beds, over to the sidewalk so that Husband could mow the grass growing in between. Today, I figured he could carry it all back. And we had gotten so much done right today - reading, playing, tidying up, trampoline time, outside time, meals with multiple food groups - and he'd get in some heavy work carrying the bricks back where they came from. I was feeling sooooo good.
Then I looked up and saw my little Samson running at me with a big helpful grin, carrying a brick at shoulder height and realized that this was one of those horror movie moments when you realize that investigating the noise in the basement was a monumental error in judgment.
Boy is strong, enthusiastic, eager to help. Finer concepts such as "Gentle" and "Careful" are academic, and easily forgotten in the heat of the moment. He used to hurt us playing, and still does sometimes without knowing it. He doesn't think ahead. And he was carrying a brick at the level of my cranium.
And like the movie character who stands and screams instead of, oh, running away, or something else sensible, I wasted precious escape time sitting there in shock, thinking...
"I did NOT think this through."
The first brick, I deflected with my hands while screaming, "NONONO STOP, NO THROWING!!" He figured Mommy screaming meant we were having fun, and was on his way back with another rock before I could get up, missing my foot with it as I scrambled backwards screaming again. The third time, I grabbed HIM, and we had a hand-over-hand lesson in Giving Nicely. I showed him how to be exaggeratedly careful (the only way to make sure he IS careful is to pretend everything's made of eggshells), and thereafter if he so much as dropped the rock into my hands instead of placing it carefully as if it were porcelain, I made him do it again. Getting masonry thrown at my head was a little unnerving.
Obviously I'm still learning how much instruction is needed sometimes! As my mom said, after she stopped laughing, "You're learning together!"