Yesterday, I wrote about being frustrated with school and routines and expectations and we’re only two weeks in at school.
Rather than dwell on that (and because I got a wonderful email from O’s teacher yesterday that laid quite a few of my worries to rest) I decided to concentrate on the positives that are happening right now.
• Libarary books. Olivia brought home a library book from school the other day. She was so proud. She told us how she picked the book out all by herself, she went up to the counter all by herself and she handed the book to the librarian…ALL BY HERSELF. She felt so grown up and mature. When we sat down to read that library book the night she brought it home her smile was blinding, even with the missing tooth.
• Canning. Tom’s been a canning maniac lately. He’s canned about 70 quarts of green beans, over 50 quarts of salsa and about 20 pints of blackberry preserves. He makes me tired every time I look at him standing in the kitchen, watching a timer, or blanching tomatoes or chopping onions. And don’t even get me started on snapping green beans. I’m so lucky that he’s willing to do this stuff. I love eating things that have been lovingly preserved at home but I don’t want to do the work to preserve them. I’d rather buy them at Walmart than go through it all. Thank goodness Tom feels differently.
• Fifth grade. Alyssa loves fifth grade. She’s already had a quiz, for which I helped her study. She got ten out of ten correct on that quiz. She’s awesome. And she still thinks I’m awesome, so hey, win/win. She is having so much fun having a locker. She feels so grown up being on the other side of the school, away from the ‘little’ kids and near the junior high and high school. I look at her and sometimes she seems so grown up and other times I still see my little girl, the one who hid behind a rocking chair when she was two and a half and cut six inches off each side of her hair. Her laugh is so contagious, so beautiful. I hope we always get to be a part of what is making her happy.
• Weather. The weather here has been amazing. Well, amazing if you like temperatures in the 90s, which we do when we want to hit the lake just one more (or three) time before the end of summer. We were there last weekend, Tom wants go again today after school and work and we might even manage to make it again either Sunday or Monday. What a way to spend the long weekend, huh?
• Gymnastics. Both girls are loving their gymnastics classes. I know I said I was going to put Olivia in ballet but we live in a very small town and I couldn’t find a class at a convenient time for us. When I saw that the gym where Alyssa takes her class had added a class for O’s age group I was excited. When I saw that it was taking place on the same evening at Alyssa’s class, I was thrilled. When I saw that the time was right in the middle of A’s class, as in, A’s class is at 5:30 to 7:30 and O’s class is from 6:30 to 7:10, I might have down a back handspring. (I also might not have done that.) I was already going to be at the gym on that night at that time and more often than not (read, ALWAYS) Olivia was going to be with me. It was a no brainer to sign that girl up.
And she’s loving it. Her class only has five girls, including Olivia. Two of those girls are twins, which thrills Olivia to no end. She’s obsessed with those girls and it’s flipping adorable. I feel so lucky that they added this class so Olivia has something to do too.
Yeah, all in all, there is definitely way more good than not so good.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
Friday, August 30, 2013
Thursday, August 29, 2013
Pure ST Geekiness
The girls are already discussing potential Halloween costumes. Yes, I know it’s August. They don’t care. They love Halloween and so, discuss costumes we will.
I suggested to Alyssa that she be a Borg.
She declared, “No way.”
I asked, “Why not, the Borg are very cool.”
She replied, “No they’re not, they’re creepy.”
“Well,” I retorted, “Seven of Nine was cool once she was deborged.”
“Yeah, but that’s because she grew hair and was no longer gray!”
Alas, there was no convincing Alyssa to be a Borg. Resistance, in this case, was not futile.
Later the three of us were driving to town and I asked Alyssa if she’d decided what she wanted to be since she wouldn’t be a Borg.
She shook her head.
I asked Olivia, “Hey, Livie, wanna be a Borg for Halloween?”
She responded, “What the heck? What’s a Borg?”
After the laughter stopped, Alyssa told Olivia all about the creepiness that is the Borg. So…neither of my daughters will fulfill my geeky heart’s dream of having one of her children dress up as a Borg for Halloween.
I did tell Alyssa, “Since you two are too cool for the Borg, maybe I’ll be a Borg for Halloween.”
She told me, “Don’t plan on walking around with me, then.”
Ha! Hahahaha. Whatever, kid. You’re only ten years old, you have to stick with your mom even if she is dressed up as a creepy Borg.
Resistance is futile.
She’s just lucky I gave up on the idea of assimilating her.
I suggested to Alyssa that she be a Borg.
She declared, “No way.”
I asked, “Why not, the Borg are very cool.”
She replied, “No they’re not, they’re creepy.”
“Well,” I retorted, “Seven of Nine was cool once she was deborged.”
“Yeah, but that’s because she grew hair and was no longer gray!”
Alas, there was no convincing Alyssa to be a Borg. Resistance, in this case, was not futile.
Later the three of us were driving to town and I asked Alyssa if she’d decided what she wanted to be since she wouldn’t be a Borg.
She shook her head.
I asked Olivia, “Hey, Livie, wanna be a Borg for Halloween?”
She responded, “What the heck? What’s a Borg?”
After the laughter stopped, Alyssa told Olivia all about the creepiness that is the Borg. So…neither of my daughters will fulfill my geeky heart’s dream of having one of her children dress up as a Borg for Halloween.
I did tell Alyssa, “Since you two are too cool for the Borg, maybe I’ll be a Borg for Halloween.”
She told me, “Don’t plan on walking around with me, then.”
Ha! Hahahaha. Whatever, kid. You’re only ten years old, you have to stick with your mom even if she is dressed up as a creepy Borg.
Resistance is futile.
She’s just lucky I gave up on the idea of assimilating her.
Tuesday, August 27, 2013
A Real Kindergartener
Several weeks ago when I arrived at my mom’s to pick up the girls, Olivia ran to show me something. Her top right front tooth was loose. Very loose. I don’t know what she was eating but something had helped it along in its looseness.
But it was weirdly loose. It wouldn’t go backward, it only went forward. She was cute in a Nanny McPhee way. I could actually feel the start of her permanent tooth behind that loose baby tooth but it was still pretty tightly attached.
Her tooth stayed that way for over two weeks. She learned to eat by taking bites with the left side of her mouth. She wiggled it occasionally but resolutely refused to let anyone entertain the idea of helping that tooth come out.
The four of us went to the lake this past Sunday sort of as a final farewell to summer. The weather was beautiful, the lake was actually still warmish and Tom brought along a little floating thing that the girls could climb on and jump off of into the water (feet first, obviously.)
At one point, Olivia called to me. She smiled at me and showed me that her loose tooth was bleeding. She’d hit the raft with her mouth and further loosened the tooth. But she still wouldn’t let me reach in and just yank the thing out.
We decided it was time to leave the water and have a snack, hoping said snack would prompt Olivia’s tooth to give up that last thread and come out.
Nope, not happening. We hit up the park by the lake and swam again but still, that tooth held on for dear life.
After the lake, Tom needed to make a stop to pick up some light bulbs and canning lids. Yes, I’m very lucky to have him.
When we walked into Walmart, Tom got ahead of us and A and O and I made our way after him. I was a little ahead of the girls when Olivia gasped and then raced toward me. She showed me her mouth and…the tooth was gone.
I asked her when she lost it.
She replied, “When Lyssie hit me in the mouth.”
Alyssa shrugged. “I didn’t mean to.”
Olivia declared, “She didn’t hurt me but she did know my tooth out.”
And where was the culprit? Nowhere to be found, what’s where. We checked the floor along the path we’d walked but hey, baby teeth are tiny. We also considered the fact that she swallowed it.
Olivia rinsed her slightly bloody mouth out at the water fountain (gross, I know) and we found our way to Tom. He high-fived Olivia and Alyssa declared, “Now she looks like a real kindergartner.”
In the end, yes, my child lost a tooth at Walmart when her sister hit her in the mouth. I am so proud.
But look! My ‘real’ kindergartener.
But it was weirdly loose. It wouldn’t go backward, it only went forward. She was cute in a Nanny McPhee way. I could actually feel the start of her permanent tooth behind that loose baby tooth but it was still pretty tightly attached.
Her tooth stayed that way for over two weeks. She learned to eat by taking bites with the left side of her mouth. She wiggled it occasionally but resolutely refused to let anyone entertain the idea of helping that tooth come out.
The four of us went to the lake this past Sunday sort of as a final farewell to summer. The weather was beautiful, the lake was actually still warmish and Tom brought along a little floating thing that the girls could climb on and jump off of into the water (feet first, obviously.)
At one point, Olivia called to me. She smiled at me and showed me that her loose tooth was bleeding. She’d hit the raft with her mouth and further loosened the tooth. But she still wouldn’t let me reach in and just yank the thing out.
We decided it was time to leave the water and have a snack, hoping said snack would prompt Olivia’s tooth to give up that last thread and come out.
Nope, not happening. We hit up the park by the lake and swam again but still, that tooth held on for dear life.
After the lake, Tom needed to make a stop to pick up some light bulbs and canning lids. Yes, I’m very lucky to have him.
When we walked into Walmart, Tom got ahead of us and A and O and I made our way after him. I was a little ahead of the girls when Olivia gasped and then raced toward me. She showed me her mouth and…the tooth was gone.
I asked her when she lost it.
She replied, “When Lyssie hit me in the mouth.”
Alyssa shrugged. “I didn’t mean to.”
Olivia declared, “She didn’t hurt me but she did know my tooth out.”
And where was the culprit? Nowhere to be found, what’s where. We checked the floor along the path we’d walked but hey, baby teeth are tiny. We also considered the fact that she swallowed it.
Olivia rinsed her slightly bloody mouth out at the water fountain (gross, I know) and we found our way to Tom. He high-fived Olivia and Alyssa declared, “Now she looks like a real kindergartner.”
In the end, yes, my child lost a tooth at Walmart when her sister hit her in the mouth. I am so proud.
But look! My ‘real’ kindergartener.
Monday, August 26, 2013
The Woman at Dairy Queen
I take the girls to either McD’s or DQ each Thursday after their gymnastics class. Alyssa’s class ends at 7:30, which means they’re both starving even though they eat before their class.
This week they chose DQ and because the line at the drive-thru was insanely long, we decided to go inside.
While placing my order a man and what I assumed was his adult daughter came in. They went directly to the freezer where the boxed frozen treats are stored.
The dad brought three boxes of Dilly Bars to the counter. His daughter took them from him, put them on the counter and recited which kinds he’d chosen.
She and I made eye contact and she said, “We’re having company tomorrow. We are serving Dilly Bars.”
At first glance, this was a typical young woman in her early twenties. When she spoke up, though, I could tell she was not typical. She gave serious thought before she spoke, she enunciated her words very precisely, like she’d practiced this through years of speech therapy.
I couldn’t tell if she had autism or something else caused her very deliberate speech pattern but it didn’t matter. She was working hard to make conversation and I was going to take part in that conversation.
I smiled and told her that her guests would love getting Dilly Bars. She smiled in response to my comment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her dad step back, letting her do this on her own. I was glad he was able to do that. I imagined it had taken years for him to give her that space. I’m still not there with either of my shy girls. I haven’t learned to give them space and let them shine on their own. I continue to work on it.
She glanced around, obviously trying to think of something else to say. Her eyes landed on my purse. She declared, “I like your purse!”
I said, “Thank you so much.”
She said, “It’s so colorful and has great patterns. I see stripes and paisley and it’s just so…old fashioned. I like the yellows and blues and browns in it.”
I thanked her again and the DQ employee arrived with the green and blue Arctic Rushes I’d ordered for the girls to drink. A couple of seconds later, the chicken strip basket A and O would share showed up.
I smiled at the young woman waiting to pay for her Dilly Bars and told her I needed to get the food to my girls.
I wish I’d told her how great it was talking to her. I wish I’d stopped for just a second and said, “It was so nice talking to you.”
Next time, I will say that. Next time, I will acknowledge it when someone goes out of their way to be friendly. And I will learn from her dad. I will continue to work to give A and O their space, let them figure out how to be social without me butting in if the silence goes on too long. Who am I to say how long is too long when it comes to silence?
This week they chose DQ and because the line at the drive-thru was insanely long, we decided to go inside.
While placing my order a man and what I assumed was his adult daughter came in. They went directly to the freezer where the boxed frozen treats are stored.
The dad brought three boxes of Dilly Bars to the counter. His daughter took them from him, put them on the counter and recited which kinds he’d chosen.
She and I made eye contact and she said, “We’re having company tomorrow. We are serving Dilly Bars.”
At first glance, this was a typical young woman in her early twenties. When she spoke up, though, I could tell she was not typical. She gave serious thought before she spoke, she enunciated her words very precisely, like she’d practiced this through years of speech therapy.
I couldn’t tell if she had autism or something else caused her very deliberate speech pattern but it didn’t matter. She was working hard to make conversation and I was going to take part in that conversation.
I smiled and told her that her guests would love getting Dilly Bars. She smiled in response to my comment. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her dad step back, letting her do this on her own. I was glad he was able to do that. I imagined it had taken years for him to give her that space. I’m still not there with either of my shy girls. I haven’t learned to give them space and let them shine on their own. I continue to work on it.
She glanced around, obviously trying to think of something else to say. Her eyes landed on my purse. She declared, “I like your purse!”
I said, “Thank you so much.”
She said, “It’s so colorful and has great patterns. I see stripes and paisley and it’s just so…old fashioned. I like the yellows and blues and browns in it.”
I thanked her again and the DQ employee arrived with the green and blue Arctic Rushes I’d ordered for the girls to drink. A couple of seconds later, the chicken strip basket A and O would share showed up.
I smiled at the young woman waiting to pay for her Dilly Bars and told her I needed to get the food to my girls.
I wish I’d told her how great it was talking to her. I wish I’d stopped for just a second and said, “It was so nice talking to you.”
Next time, I will say that. Next time, I will acknowledge it when someone goes out of their way to be friendly. And I will learn from her dad. I will continue to work to give A and O their space, let them figure out how to be social without me butting in if the silence goes on too long. Who am I to say how long is too long when it comes to silence?
Friday, August 23, 2013
Trust
You know what? I don’t think about 5p- very often. It doesn’t really affect our world much unless I’m thinking about Olivia at school. Then…I get antsy and worry about how 5p- is affecting her, how it’s making her life harder than her peers.
But at home? When we’re out and about? Not so much. I see my girls together and I don’t think, “Oh, there are my girls, the typical ten year old and the six year old with 5p-.”
Nope, I just see Lyss and Liv and think about how lucky I am that they are mine. Then I get all sentimental and embarrass them by hugging them at the bus stop. Or I get silly and ask them if I can keep them forever.
They roll their eyes at me, sharing a look that says, “Oh yeah, our mom is so weird!”
I love that. I love their relationship and how it’s not defined by Olivia’s syndrome. They’re sisters. Alyssa gets very annoyed by her little sister, just like any other ten year old who has to put up with a six year old would.
Last night at gymnastics, I watched through the window as Olivia did most of what the other four girls in her class did. She needed a little more physical help than the others and she didn’t actually talk to her coach but she communicated in her own way. She nodded or shook her head in response to questions, she held out her hand when she wanted help. She did it.
I loved seeing all that. I hope she does the same thing at school. I hope her teachers at school can see her communication attempts as well as the gymnastics coach did.
I know I have to have faith in her school team. I have to trust them to have her best interests at heart, to know that they want her to succeed as much as I do.
Maybe I need to remember my own advice to Alyssa earlier this week. The teachers are on our side. They want what we want, for all the students to succeed, to help them do their best.
Trust is so necessary and sometimes, so hard to come by. I'm trying to let go of some of my worry and trust. Trust in these people who have my child with them seven hours a day, five days a week. Deep breath.
But at home? When we’re out and about? Not so much. I see my girls together and I don’t think, “Oh, there are my girls, the typical ten year old and the six year old with 5p-.”
Nope, I just see Lyss and Liv and think about how lucky I am that they are mine. Then I get all sentimental and embarrass them by hugging them at the bus stop. Or I get silly and ask them if I can keep them forever.
They roll their eyes at me, sharing a look that says, “Oh yeah, our mom is so weird!”
I love that. I love their relationship and how it’s not defined by Olivia’s syndrome. They’re sisters. Alyssa gets very annoyed by her little sister, just like any other ten year old who has to put up with a six year old would.
Last night at gymnastics, I watched through the window as Olivia did most of what the other four girls in her class did. She needed a little more physical help than the others and she didn’t actually talk to her coach but she communicated in her own way. She nodded or shook her head in response to questions, she held out her hand when she wanted help. She did it.
I loved seeing all that. I hope she does the same thing at school. I hope her teachers at school can see her communication attempts as well as the gymnastics coach did.
I know I have to have faith in her school team. I have to trust them to have her best interests at heart, to know that they want her to succeed as much as I do.
Maybe I need to remember my own advice to Alyssa earlier this week. The teachers are on our side. They want what we want, for all the students to succeed, to help them do their best.
Trust is so necessary and sometimes, so hard to come by. I'm trying to let go of some of my worry and trust. Trust in these people who have my child with them seven hours a day, five days a week. Deep breath.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Bubbly
This being back to school is tough. We’re trying to figure out bed and bath times and everyone is more tired than we will be in another couple of weeks when things have settled into a routine.
The other day a co-worker had a question about something I’d done. I’d written the number 1 where a 0 should have been. I apologized for the mistake and corrected it.
The co-worker laughed and said, “It’s kind of nice to know you’re not perfect.”
I blinked, smiled and said, “I’m so far from perfect.”
She replied, “I’m glad because I’d have to hate you if you were perfect at everything. You’ve already got the cute bubbly blonde thing down.”
Huh? Seriously? Bubbly?
Okay, blond I get. Yes, my stupid hair is blond. But bubbly?
My kids would completely disagree with that assessment. Especially Olivia, who cried last night because Mom was mean when she (Olivia) wouldn’t go to sleep at a decent time.
I know I put my best face forward while at work. I smile even when I want to scream.
Unfortunately, I don’t do that at home. I’m beginning to think maybe I should. The people at work aren’t nearly as important to me as Tom and the girls. Shouldn’t they, my family, get the best of me? Why is that side reserved for people I don’t love?
I don’t think I need to come to work and be a bitch but when I’m at home, I think I need to consider how I’d respond to a request or an action if a co-worker were the one asking/doing. It might make like at home a little more bubbly.
It certainly can’t hurt. I really don’t want to make Olivia cry again. Poor baby has such a mean mom who just wants her to get enough sleep so kindergarten is the best experience it can possibly by.
So far, two days down and…no words from Olivia to her teachers. Only 178 days left. Girl needs to get talking. She’s never going to be told she has that ‘bubbly blonde thing down’ if she doesn’t.
If this picture doesn’t define bubbly, I don’t know what does. I just wish she’d let her teachers see this side of herself. I know, I know. It’s only bee two days but…I worry so. I think that makes me not so bubbly after all.
The other day a co-worker had a question about something I’d done. I’d written the number 1 where a 0 should have been. I apologized for the mistake and corrected it.
The co-worker laughed and said, “It’s kind of nice to know you’re not perfect.”
I blinked, smiled and said, “I’m so far from perfect.”
She replied, “I’m glad because I’d have to hate you if you were perfect at everything. You’ve already got the cute bubbly blonde thing down.”
Huh? Seriously? Bubbly?
Okay, blond I get. Yes, my stupid hair is blond. But bubbly?
My kids would completely disagree with that assessment. Especially Olivia, who cried last night because Mom was mean when she (Olivia) wouldn’t go to sleep at a decent time.
I know I put my best face forward while at work. I smile even when I want to scream.
Unfortunately, I don’t do that at home. I’m beginning to think maybe I should. The people at work aren’t nearly as important to me as Tom and the girls. Shouldn’t they, my family, get the best of me? Why is that side reserved for people I don’t love?
I don’t think I need to come to work and be a bitch but when I’m at home, I think I need to consider how I’d respond to a request or an action if a co-worker were the one asking/doing. It might make like at home a little more bubbly.
It certainly can’t hurt. I really don’t want to make Olivia cry again. Poor baby has such a mean mom who just wants her to get enough sleep so kindergarten is the best experience it can possibly by.
So far, two days down and…no words from Olivia to her teachers. Only 178 days left. Girl needs to get talking. She’s never going to be told she has that ‘bubbly blonde thing down’ if she doesn’t.
If this picture doesn’t define bubbly, I don’t know what does. I just wish she’d let her teachers see this side of herself. I know, I know. It’s only bee two days but…I worry so. I think that makes me not so bubbly after all.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
And So It Begins
Another school year. Fifth grade and kindergarten.
Morning showers and baths, drying hair on a chilly morning, packing lunches, hurrying through breakfasts, Thursday evening gymnastics classes.
We survived our first day yesterday and this morning the routine flowed just a little better. With our new bus stop being a mile and a half away instead of at the end of the driveway, we’ve had to factor in a few more intricate moves into this little dance we perform each morning. We all four have our part to dance and we’re getting it. We might trip here and there but practice will make perfect.
I pack the lunches. Tom sets out breakfast. The girls eat.
I brush Olivia’s hair and help her brush her teeth. Alyssa, thank the good Lord, is capable of doing these things for herself. Wheee.
Life is good.
We’re adjusting. Olivia fell asleep on the bus on the way home last night. She’ll adjust too. I tried to get her to go to sleep earlier last night but…we’ll get there.
This morning, Olivia asked me what we were doing today.
I told her she and Lyss were going to school and I was going to work. She smiled but then asked, “How many days do we have to go to school?”
I held up my fingers. I showed her three fingers and marked them off. I said, “You have school today, tomorrow and the next day. The day after that is Saturday. That’s our library day. You don’t have school that day.”
She smiled again, wider this time. “Yay,” she said as she stood up from the toilet and pulled up her pants.
It’s the little things that will get us through this transition. Little things like Saturday visits to the library.
Morning showers and baths, drying hair on a chilly morning, packing lunches, hurrying through breakfasts, Thursday evening gymnastics classes.
We survived our first day yesterday and this morning the routine flowed just a little better. With our new bus stop being a mile and a half away instead of at the end of the driveway, we’ve had to factor in a few more intricate moves into this little dance we perform each morning. We all four have our part to dance and we’re getting it. We might trip here and there but practice will make perfect.
I pack the lunches. Tom sets out breakfast. The girls eat.
I brush Olivia’s hair and help her brush her teeth. Alyssa, thank the good Lord, is capable of doing these things for herself. Wheee.
Life is good.
We’re adjusting. Olivia fell asleep on the bus on the way home last night. She’ll adjust too. I tried to get her to go to sleep earlier last night but…we’ll get there.
This morning, Olivia asked me what we were doing today.
I told her she and Lyss were going to school and I was going to work. She smiled but then asked, “How many days do we have to go to school?”
I held up my fingers. I showed her three fingers and marked them off. I said, “You have school today, tomorrow and the next day. The day after that is Saturday. That’s our library day. You don’t have school that day.”
She smiled again, wider this time. “Yay,” she said as she stood up from the toilet and pulled up her pants.
It’s the little things that will get us through this transition. Little things like Saturday visits to the library.
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