Last week, my husband and I had a madcap dash of a getaway to Galveston. We were initially scheduled to go to an arts conference in Chicago, but when the financial backers who had requested that we go to said conference flaked on their end of the deal, my husband and I could simply not make $700 + come up out of thin air with two weeks notice.
We had already arranged for my mother-in-law to come over here and use her expert kid wrangling skills while we were gone for the week -- she had four kids of her own and currently has nine grandchildren, the youngest of which just turned two and the oldest of which turned seven recently. It was a busy five years for all concerned, let me tell you.
But I digress. I'm good at that.
ANYWAY -- since she was here anyway, Z and I figured we'd zip out of town for a couple of nights and let her use those aforementioned kid wrangling skills, so her flight over here wasn't a complete waste of her time (visiting with us aside). Exciting stuff! We have never, and I repeat, never been away overnight without the kids in the whole of their existence with just us by ourselves. We've been away, but always either individually (either Z or I would be gone, but not both), or we'd be gone in a big group setting sharing a room with other married people. We pored over the options and finally made reservations at a nice, but inexpensive hotel on the seawall in Galveston.
It was with great glee that we looked forward to this event. Woo hoo!
Enter a frantic phone call Sunday morning during our Bible study, from our tenants who are living in our house in Maryland. They have no water. Zero. And we have a well. The initial estimate was several thousand dollars to fix, which didn't do wonders for my blood pressure, so we tried to cancel our reservations in Galveston. We could. Sort of. They were still going to charge us for the first night's stay anyway, kind of their own little guarantee with the bad economy that they'd at least get something out of the deal I suppose.
With the additional costs of putting the tenant family in a hotel, in which they would have needed two rooms, for however long it took to fix the issue and prorating the rent while they were not living in the house -- well, the tally was getting daunting. Especially since we couldn't even come up with $700 for Chicago. We prayed hard about it, and asked God to keep the cost for fixing the well problem under $500.
By Tuesday, we had found a very honest guy that did all the work necessary, and who would send us a bill for his work rather than us paying him up front the day of service. We had no way to do that being in Texas, anyway, so this was wonderful. Turns out the problem was not with the well pump itself (thank goodness) but with the pipe leading to the well, which had become so mineral laden it choked itself off. Our well is only about 100 feet deep, so all the better.
Z gets off the phone with our tenant, turns to me, and says to pack our bag and some food. Since we were losing the money for a night at the hotel anyway, we were going to spend the $20 in gas to get out there and back, and just pack all our own food. The hotel room had a mini fridge, but nothing else, so we took pasta salad and some fruit for dinner, and then cereal and milk for breakfast the next morning.
So we drove the 4 hours to Galveston, had a lovely time -- got there about 6:30 p.m.,our room had a balcony facing the Gulf, so we ate our dinner and breakfast out there. We also walked along the beach after dinner until it was too dark to really see what we were stepping on, and then went out the next morning to walk it for another couple of hours before stopping to score some lunch and drive back home. I wished we'd had at least another week. Even if the initial plan was only for two nights.
I love the Gulf coast. Absolutely adore it. During my formative years, my family was blessed enough to have a family friend donate two weeks of their timeshare on the beach just north of St. Petersburg. Every summer. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of those beach vacations, and my favorite beaches are still the Gulf coast beaches. The Atlantic and Pacific are just....different, they have a different feel and flavor. Yes. That's the words I was looking for.
Galveston was hit by Hurricane Ike in Sept 2008 -- just a few months ago, but you almost can't tell. Oh, there are still a few buildings in disrepair, and some houses that are still beyond smashed and ruined, but by and large the community is back up and running. Such a huge disparity between Galveston nine months after Ike, and New Orleans nine months after Katrina. The locals didn't bother to wait for federal aid, they just rolled up their sleeves and got to work. And it looks great, especially considering that in the middle of town during the siege the water was 4 feet 5 inches high -- miles away from the coast guarded by a 17-ft high seawall. It was of course much deeper the closer to the beach you got. There are still areas marked out where you can't swim due to underwater debris that hasn't been cleared yet, but the beaches are open and pretty much cleared except for the construction rebuilding out over the water. We walked over 5 miles and only had to scale up and down the seawall to skirt construction twice.
Foolish mortal that I am, in our haste to pack and leave within an hour I left the sunblock. And have paid dearly. My husband has enough Native American in him that he simply tanned. Me, on the other hand, well let's just say the Irish is abundant in my bloodlines. I fear I am sporting yet another "Red Banded Idiot Burn", which fortunately has faded to an itchy peeling tan by now.
And here's the cool part: our whole trip was pretty much just free stuff, aside from gas and a very very cheap lunch -- like, literally $4 each -- but it wasn't fast food, we ate at a very nice little family owned restaurant with a view of the water. Shockingly good prices, we'd go back with the kids and get out of there for under $20, and it's all freshly made stuff. And we had a great time. Z and I just like being together, and it was so nice to be able to relax and look at each other without worrying that K was out tormenting the sharks by the pier.
Our bill for the pipe replacement, etc, in Maryland came in the mail on Saturday; it totals $423 and change. Isn't God great?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Monday, June 15, 2009
Summertime
Summertime. In Texas. God has a special setting, called "flambe'", just for this state. And He turned it up early this year.
Having never experienced a Texan summer before, (and yes, I know that I ain't seen nuthin' yet) we are doing pretty well.
Most of our days are spent with all the curtains drawn, and if you cared to venture out into the furnace and make your way over to our house, you'd find us in minimal clothing, draped over the couch directly under the air conditioning vent -- we have it down to a science, four people can arrange themselves in various odd positions so that no one actually makes contact with anyone else.
It helps that K is still pretty much pocket-sized.
The air conditioner can not be set below 80 degrees or it will freeze up the unit. Whoever built the house put the thing so that it's on the south and east side of the house -- which means it has to work harder to overcome the higher temperatures. Despite the decidedly wimpy air flow, at least it's moving air. And that helps tremendously.
Blessedly, our house in Maryland had a crappy air system too so at least we're used to it. We lived on pedestal fans, donated to us by very dear and generous friends that were concerned about our babies. We had a concrete slab foundation, and no insulation upstairs, so the upstairs was at least 15 degrees hotter than the downstairs. Trying to sleep when it's 92 degrees (or warmer) is just not enjoyable, least of all when you're a kid. When a kid is miserable, everyone is miserable.
What is depressing is the realization that while our actual temps have been between 98 and 101 for the last week, with a much higher heat index, it is going to be even hotter in about a month. I'd cry, but I'd lose valuable moisture.
We've had some rip-roarin' thunderstorms during the evenings though, of an awesomeness that frankly can't be matched by anything in the mid-Atlantic. We have already had more hailstorms in two months than I can recall ever going through in the entirety of my life. I pity those without garages or carports, the damages to cars is definitely not pretty. I am one of those people that has a healthy respect for the weather, but who also really would love to go out and watch the lightning. (Even if our house itself was struck a couple of months ago.) I draw the line at severe weather, though, and would prefer to be in a closet with a blanket, huddled over the emergency radio.
Which reminds me of another oddity: we live in Tornado Alley proper, but there are not very many basements in Texan homes. Fabulous. I guess it doesn't really matter so much here, because they don't get the "wimpy" EF1 variety very often. If they get a tornado, it's a huge monster that takes out an entire town, so you're probably toast anyway. How comforting.
I grew up in South Florida during my formative years, and I'll take a hurricane over a tornado any day. At least you have advanced notice and can "batten down the hatches" and get the heck out of dodge. My husband, on the other hand, was born and raised in Kansas -- and he's more likely to be outside whooping and hollering at the "cool" sickly green tinge the sky takes on, and avidly scanning for funnel clouds.
He's a freak, but I love him.
Having never experienced a Texan summer before, (and yes, I know that I ain't seen nuthin' yet) we are doing pretty well.
Most of our days are spent with all the curtains drawn, and if you cared to venture out into the furnace and make your way over to our house, you'd find us in minimal clothing, draped over the couch directly under the air conditioning vent -- we have it down to a science, four people can arrange themselves in various odd positions so that no one actually makes contact with anyone else.
It helps that K is still pretty much pocket-sized.
The air conditioner can not be set below 80 degrees or it will freeze up the unit. Whoever built the house put the thing so that it's on the south and east side of the house -- which means it has to work harder to overcome the higher temperatures. Despite the decidedly wimpy air flow, at least it's moving air. And that helps tremendously.
Blessedly, our house in Maryland had a crappy air system too so at least we're used to it. We lived on pedestal fans, donated to us by very dear and generous friends that were concerned about our babies. We had a concrete slab foundation, and no insulation upstairs, so the upstairs was at least 15 degrees hotter than the downstairs. Trying to sleep when it's 92 degrees (or warmer) is just not enjoyable, least of all when you're a kid. When a kid is miserable, everyone is miserable.
What is depressing is the realization that while our actual temps have been between 98 and 101 for the last week, with a much higher heat index, it is going to be even hotter in about a month. I'd cry, but I'd lose valuable moisture.
We've had some rip-roarin' thunderstorms during the evenings though, of an awesomeness that frankly can't be matched by anything in the mid-Atlantic. We have already had more hailstorms in two months than I can recall ever going through in the entirety of my life. I pity those without garages or carports, the damages to cars is definitely not pretty. I am one of those people that has a healthy respect for the weather, but who also really would love to go out and watch the lightning. (Even if our house itself was struck a couple of months ago.) I draw the line at severe weather, though, and would prefer to be in a closet with a blanket, huddled over the emergency radio.
Which reminds me of another oddity: we live in Tornado Alley proper, but there are not very many basements in Texan homes. Fabulous. I guess it doesn't really matter so much here, because they don't get the "wimpy" EF1 variety very often. If they get a tornado, it's a huge monster that takes out an entire town, so you're probably toast anyway. How comforting.
I grew up in South Florida during my formative years, and I'll take a hurricane over a tornado any day. At least you have advanced notice and can "batten down the hatches" and get the heck out of dodge. My husband, on the other hand, was born and raised in Kansas -- and he's more likely to be outside whooping and hollering at the "cool" sickly green tinge the sky takes on, and avidly scanning for funnel clouds.
He's a freak, but I love him.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Field Day
This week is the last full week of school for the regular school year. A's school chose to have their Field Day on Friday of last week, and the parents were invited to come and watch if we wanted to.
It was thrilling to see A having so much fun with the other kids, and being every bit as good at the activities as the others! Whereas he has some difficulties in the classroom holding pens and such, A's gross motor skills are perfectly on target; he can run, jump, and climb with the best. Z and I were both struck at how...normal...that day was, as we imagine "normal" to be. Both of us were very excited for A! And A's grin when we arrived was worth the visit, even if we didn't get to see him do one thing. Luckily, we got to spend about two hours with him and got to see him participate in a few activities before we brought him home with us at the end of the day.
Z and I loaded up Miss K after lunch and headed over there to see what we could see. A had a blast, and so did his sister. I could just see the wheels turning in K's head: so this is what school is like! Sure enough, she's been asking to go to school every day now. I (foolishly) tried to explain to her that she can't go, because she's just turned three. Little good that did. They do have public preschool here, but you have to be four years old and we now make more than the income requirement threshold, so she will not be attending. At least, not a public preschool.
Z and I have been talking, more so since Friday. K really loves learning things about all sorts of topics, she LOVES to create art in any form, and she is one of the most social kids I've ever seen, to the point of being annoying to other children sometimes. We may be putting her into a private preschool after she turns four just to help curb some of that exuberance and get her used to a classroom setting before she has to start kindergarten. She would undoubtedly love to do it now, but private preschool does cost money, and with the economy doing what it is recently...at this point we think that it is smarter to wait. She is already picking up a lot of things here at home: she knows all the letters and their sounds, can write a few and even read some simple words; same for numbers, although we're not getting math just yet. She does get the concept of addition and subtraction, though. And she knows her colors and shapes already, even weird ones like octagons. She is always asking questions about pretty much, well, everything, like 3-yr olds tend to do.
Z and I have also bandied about the thought of homeschooling, first for A (before we learned of his challenges), and then for K. At this point, public school is the best possible place for A; he gets some of the services he needs and lots of socialization with other more "typical" kids his age. I just can not duplicate that in a home school setting, and I'm not trained to do the OT and speech therapies -- although I do repeat some of the same things at home to supplement his school work. All of my hopes and willpower do not make up for actual training in those areas, though, and I recognize that.
As far as Miss Thang goes, K is going to have to lose some of that stubborn willfulness or I'm not going to be able to teach her anything. As it is, she listens to other people better than she does me, much to the consternation and bewilderment of her father and I. We're not sure where it's coming from, but we know without a doubt that if we don't get a handle on it now, ten years from now it will be worse. I've heard that it's just the age (3), so we'll see.
Good news! I might have a computer again this summer sometime, so all those pictures I have languishing on my digital camera can make their way blogward. I am glad I have the opportunity to use my husband's work laptop occasionally, but it does have its limitations on what I'm allowed to do with it. And putting outside software or photographs on it is a "no no".
It was thrilling to see A having so much fun with the other kids, and being every bit as good at the activities as the others! Whereas he has some difficulties in the classroom holding pens and such, A's gross motor skills are perfectly on target; he can run, jump, and climb with the best. Z and I were both struck at how...normal...that day was, as we imagine "normal" to be. Both of us were very excited for A! And A's grin when we arrived was worth the visit, even if we didn't get to see him do one thing. Luckily, we got to spend about two hours with him and got to see him participate in a few activities before we brought him home with us at the end of the day.
Z and I loaded up Miss K after lunch and headed over there to see what we could see. A had a blast, and so did his sister. I could just see the wheels turning in K's head: so this is what school is like! Sure enough, she's been asking to go to school every day now. I (foolishly) tried to explain to her that she can't go, because she's just turned three. Little good that did. They do have public preschool here, but you have to be four years old and we now make more than the income requirement threshold, so she will not be attending. At least, not a public preschool.
Z and I have been talking, more so since Friday. K really loves learning things about all sorts of topics, she LOVES to create art in any form, and she is one of the most social kids I've ever seen, to the point of being annoying to other children sometimes. We may be putting her into a private preschool after she turns four just to help curb some of that exuberance and get her used to a classroom setting before she has to start kindergarten. She would undoubtedly love to do it now, but private preschool does cost money, and with the economy doing what it is recently...at this point we think that it is smarter to wait. She is already picking up a lot of things here at home: she knows all the letters and their sounds, can write a few and even read some simple words; same for numbers, although we're not getting math just yet. She does get the concept of addition and subtraction, though. And she knows her colors and shapes already, even weird ones like octagons. She is always asking questions about pretty much, well, everything, like 3-yr olds tend to do.
Z and I have also bandied about the thought of homeschooling, first for A (before we learned of his challenges), and then for K. At this point, public school is the best possible place for A; he gets some of the services he needs and lots of socialization with other more "typical" kids his age. I just can not duplicate that in a home school setting, and I'm not trained to do the OT and speech therapies -- although I do repeat some of the same things at home to supplement his school work. All of my hopes and willpower do not make up for actual training in those areas, though, and I recognize that.
As far as Miss Thang goes, K is going to have to lose some of that stubborn willfulness or I'm not going to be able to teach her anything. As it is, she listens to other people better than she does me, much to the consternation and bewilderment of her father and I. We're not sure where it's coming from, but we know without a doubt that if we don't get a handle on it now, ten years from now it will be worse. I've heard that it's just the age (3), so we'll see.
Good news! I might have a computer again this summer sometime, so all those pictures I have languishing on my digital camera can make their way blogward. I am glad I have the opportunity to use my husband's work laptop occasionally, but it does have its limitations on what I'm allowed to do with it. And putting outside software or photographs on it is a "no no".
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Holey Moley!
Hey, all ~
Things have been normal at my end of the zoo (read: crazy). Now that I have all the information, I can share some of the stress that we've -- I've -- been going through for about a month now.
I noticed an odd thing at the beginning of February, on the back of my right knee. It felt like a scab, looked like a black pinhead. I thought it might be a baby tick, but in February? In Maryland, where it reached 4 degrees below zero just a couple of weeks before?
Nope, it was a mole. Knowing that we were moving, I decided to keep an eye on it and promptly forgot about it. That whole moving halfway across the country and not having a clue what was waiting, in house for us, job for either Z or me, or therapy-form for A. I know, excuses, excuses.
SO imagine my surprise when I noticed a little something at the beginning of May on the back of my right knee that had exploded in growth. And was like a poster for the ABCD's of melanoma, down to the black irregular color and borders. Since I tend to have "freak" as my primary reaction for serious issues, I promptly called a local dermatologist and set and appointment, and relaxed somewhat because I'd at least done something about it, as much as I could.
Then I have the appointment, the doc takes one look and gets a serious expression, and takes out the whole thing, right then and there. I mean, I have a huge chunk missing out of my right leg, directly over the tendon on my inner knee, and then had to drive home. She then tells me that the biopsy should take one to two weeks, and I need to keep the hole and the area around it moist so that when the results come back it will be easier to remove more tissue if they need to.
Needless to say, she wasn't spouting the rainbows and unicorns that I was looking for.
So I stewed over it for a day or two, cried a little bit, then had a remarkable peace about the whole thing as I waited for the results. God is good that way -- I realized that there wasn't a thing I could do about it, and He's in control, so I just -- didn't worry. Weird, right? Even my husband thought that was odd for me. Such a basic concept, yet how hard is it to truly let go of -- whatever the situation is? For me, the answer is generally "extremely". I try to puzzle out things that I can do to make things better, which is not always the best response and at times actually makes it worse. But I feel better for having tried, at least.
Results: not cancer, but not normal either. It still needed to come out. And I also learned that the doc could have sworn that it was of the "not friendly" variety, and she had planned to remove a further 1 to 2 cm chunk around the perimeter of the initial hole, and the same amount deeper than the existing chunk, and discuss further treatments if necessary. Thank goodness the biopsy came back the way it did, or I'd be facing skin grafts for the "extended excavation site". A pound of flesh, indeed. For a stupid black funny looking mole.
Moral of the story: get your butts in to see your doctor if you find something that looks funny, maybe your holey moley will be much smaller (and less painful) than mine. This stuff ain't something to mess around with, melanoma is one of the deadliest skin cancers because it has a tendency to metastasize (spread) to other areas of the body.
Things have been normal at my end of the zoo (read: crazy). Now that I have all the information, I can share some of the stress that we've -- I've -- been going through for about a month now.
I noticed an odd thing at the beginning of February, on the back of my right knee. It felt like a scab, looked like a black pinhead. I thought it might be a baby tick, but in February? In Maryland, where it reached 4 degrees below zero just a couple of weeks before?
Nope, it was a mole. Knowing that we were moving, I decided to keep an eye on it and promptly forgot about it. That whole moving halfway across the country and not having a clue what was waiting, in house for us, job for either Z or me, or therapy-form for A. I know, excuses, excuses.
SO imagine my surprise when I noticed a little something at the beginning of May on the back of my right knee that had exploded in growth. And was like a poster for the ABCD's of melanoma, down to the black irregular color and borders. Since I tend to have "freak" as my primary reaction for serious issues, I promptly called a local dermatologist and set and appointment, and relaxed somewhat because I'd at least done something about it, as much as I could.
Then I have the appointment, the doc takes one look and gets a serious expression, and takes out the whole thing, right then and there. I mean, I have a huge chunk missing out of my right leg, directly over the tendon on my inner knee, and then had to drive home. She then tells me that the biopsy should take one to two weeks, and I need to keep the hole and the area around it moist so that when the results come back it will be easier to remove more tissue if they need to.
Needless to say, she wasn't spouting the rainbows and unicorns that I was looking for.
So I stewed over it for a day or two, cried a little bit, then had a remarkable peace about the whole thing as I waited for the results. God is good that way -- I realized that there wasn't a thing I could do about it, and He's in control, so I just -- didn't worry. Weird, right? Even my husband thought that was odd for me. Such a basic concept, yet how hard is it to truly let go of -- whatever the situation is? For me, the answer is generally "extremely". I try to puzzle out things that I can do to make things better, which is not always the best response and at times actually makes it worse. But I feel better for having tried, at least.
Results: not cancer, but not normal either. It still needed to come out. And I also learned that the doc could have sworn that it was of the "not friendly" variety, and she had planned to remove a further 1 to 2 cm chunk around the perimeter of the initial hole, and the same amount deeper than the existing chunk, and discuss further treatments if necessary. Thank goodness the biopsy came back the way it did, or I'd be facing skin grafts for the "extended excavation site". A pound of flesh, indeed. For a stupid black funny looking mole.
Moral of the story: get your butts in to see your doctor if you find something that looks funny, maybe your holey moley will be much smaller (and less painful) than mine. This stuff ain't something to mess around with, melanoma is one of the deadliest skin cancers because it has a tendency to metastasize (spread) to other areas of the body.
Saturday, May 23, 2009
Remember
Happy Memorial Day weekend!
We're leaving to visit my brother in Abilene after church tomorrow, and won't be back until late Monday, so I'll see you all in blogland next week.
Here's hoping your weather, choice of grilled entree (marinated portobello mushrooms and zucchini, anyone?), and family time is good on Monday!
Please take just a brief moment on this Memorial Day to remember those who have served in the military; some have paid the ultimate price for our freedoms that we enjoy today, including the ability to peaceably express our opinions.
Thank You.
We're leaving to visit my brother in Abilene after church tomorrow, and won't be back until late Monday, so I'll see you all in blogland next week.
Here's hoping your weather, choice of grilled entree (marinated portobello mushrooms and zucchini, anyone?), and family time is good on Monday!
Please take just a brief moment on this Memorial Day to remember those who have served in the military; some have paid the ultimate price for our freedoms that we enjoy today, including the ability to peaceably express our opinions.
Thank You.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The Toilet Bowl, part 17,689 B
A has been consistently using the toilet when he gets up in the morning, and has while he's been at school for the last three days. And there was great rejoicing in the land. There are still accidents, but progress is progress.
At the other end of the spectrum, Miss K finally decided that keeping her pants dry was a worthy cause -- I bribed her with a sticker chart, and once she filled it up by keeping her pants dry and only doing her business in the toilet, then she got to wear brand new Tinkerbell and Ariel underpants.
The downside to that little trick was once she'd accomplished filling the chart and getting to wear the big girl panties, she went back to going whereever she felt like it, whenever she felt like it.
So, at least now we know she CAN do it, now it's just a matter of willpower.
The playoffs continue.
Oy.
At the other end of the spectrum, Miss K finally decided that keeping her pants dry was a worthy cause -- I bribed her with a sticker chart, and once she filled it up by keeping her pants dry and only doing her business in the toilet, then she got to wear brand new Tinkerbell and Ariel underpants.
The downside to that little trick was once she'd accomplished filling the chart and getting to wear the big girl panties, she went back to going whereever she felt like it, whenever she felt like it.
So, at least now we know she CAN do it, now it's just a matter of willpower.
The playoffs continue.
Oy.
Saturday, May 16, 2009
Kid Stuff
The kiddos are doing great! They're getting adjusted, albeit s-l-o-w-l-y in some ways. I can't decide if photos of Maryland friends are helping or hindering, but oh well they're staying out on display. A fantabulous graphic designer friend (yes, Shell, that would be YOU) made us an "ABC" book for our family out of pictures from all the times we'd spent at their home over the last 5 years. And the kids fight over it almost daily. K carries it from room to room, and we never know exactly where it's going to wind up. I found it in my bathroom cabinet last week...
A is loving school, in spite of the early hour he has to get on the racebus (6:25ish a.m.). We still have the same bus driver but she has been driving a much larger bus this week, so I'm afraid she is failing the NASCAR qualifiers this go-round. You have to slow down too much to go around corners with the extra long school buses you know. Still, I have a feeling I'll go back to calling it Mario Andretti's school bus once she gets hers fixed.
A has been doing great at his writing skills! He has to practice writing his name and all the letters in the alphabet every day at school, first by tracing over the letters and then trying it "solo", so to speak, and we're getting fairly legible results. Yay! His new teacher and school OT can tell he really hates the pencil/pen work though, because it uses those darned fine motor skills he has so much trouble with. A's hand strength, while improving, is still not quite up to where it needs to be just yet. His school OT has given him a squeezy "koosh ball"-looking thing that changes color from purple to pink if you squeeze it really hard; A has to change the color to pink using only one hand for 10 repititions, and then do the same thing with the other hand. If he uses both hands at the same time, we start over. A really hates that ball.
He reads pretty well now; his favorite books are Dr. Seuss books, especially Green Eggs and Ham, but he'll read anything. He reads the back of DVD cases, posters at the grocery store, and the bulletin at church too. A usually reads out loud, so it's also helping with his verbal skills at the same time.
Other improvements have been attempts to color in the lines of a printed picture, cutting pictures out with scissors and glueing them onto another sheet of paper -- by himself, and making whatever the craft of the day is. Some days he still needs hand-over-hand with the scissors or pencils, but he's doing more things independently now. He has even started cutting along curvy lines with a very obviously deliberate swerve to his cutouts.
A brings home a huge stack of artwork and worksheets every Friday in his backpack so we (his parents) can see what he's doing and what he still needs to work on. He actually seems somewhat interested in our reactions to his work, once we can flag him down to try to talk to him about it. He doesn't seek out approval generally, we have to try to get his attention to show him we're looking at his work. But when we say something or ask about one of his papers and show it to him, he gets this little proud smirk like, "Yeah, I did that." Endearing, and A looks a lot like his daddy when he does this.
The only downside to A getting used to his school routine is that he'll still get up around 6 a.m., even on the weekends. I pray to sleep in until at least 7:00. (I should just shoot for the stars and ask for 8). Have I mentioned that I'm not a morning person?
Miss K is a little bundle of sunshine herself most mornings. She's up between 6:30 and 7 a.m. and comes running into our room yelling, "Daddy! Mommy! The sun goes up!!!" This is very exciting to her that the sun comes up each morning, so we hear about it. Every day. At bedtime, we get a dejected, "Oh...the sun goes down." K hates to go to sleep. She's even weaned herself off of a daily nap, much to mommy's chagrin.
K loves dress-up, dancing, and reading books. In fact, the little booger can already read some words and is working on her writing skills. She can get most of the alphabet written down all by herself, although we have noticed that she makes her "C" and "D" backwards. Something to watch. K also loves to draw and likes to create circles, triangles, and squares. She has recently discovered the joys of sidewalk chalk and has had a blast decorating the back patio.
Another favorite thing to do is help mommy and daddy cook. The process takes twice as long when she "helps", but she absolutely loves it. I never know what she's going to choose to wear when we're cooking. Sometimes it's a ballet skirt; sometimes it's nothing but her underwear and frog rain boots. As the muse strikes, I suppose. We made "monkey bread" for breakfast today, which she thought was hilarious -- she kept looking for the monkeys and wanted to open the oven to see if they were in there yet.
K is loving having Daddy home during the day, because he gets to play with her during what would normally be "water cooler breaks". She also gets exclusive mommy and daddy time throughout the day, so her world is all good right now.
A is loving school, in spite of the early hour he has to get on the racebus (6:25ish a.m.). We still have the same bus driver but she has been driving a much larger bus this week, so I'm afraid she is failing the NASCAR qualifiers this go-round. You have to slow down too much to go around corners with the extra long school buses you know. Still, I have a feeling I'll go back to calling it Mario Andretti's school bus once she gets hers fixed.
A has been doing great at his writing skills! He has to practice writing his name and all the letters in the alphabet every day at school, first by tracing over the letters and then trying it "solo", so to speak, and we're getting fairly legible results. Yay! His new teacher and school OT can tell he really hates the pencil/pen work though, because it uses those darned fine motor skills he has so much trouble with. A's hand strength, while improving, is still not quite up to where it needs to be just yet. His school OT has given him a squeezy "koosh ball"-looking thing that changes color from purple to pink if you squeeze it really hard; A has to change the color to pink using only one hand for 10 repititions, and then do the same thing with the other hand. If he uses both hands at the same time, we start over. A really hates that ball.
He reads pretty well now; his favorite books are Dr. Seuss books, especially Green Eggs and Ham, but he'll read anything. He reads the back of DVD cases, posters at the grocery store, and the bulletin at church too. A usually reads out loud, so it's also helping with his verbal skills at the same time.
Other improvements have been attempts to color in the lines of a printed picture, cutting pictures out with scissors and glueing them onto another sheet of paper -- by himself, and making whatever the craft of the day is. Some days he still needs hand-over-hand with the scissors or pencils, but he's doing more things independently now. He has even started cutting along curvy lines with a very obviously deliberate swerve to his cutouts.
A brings home a huge stack of artwork and worksheets every Friday in his backpack so we (his parents) can see what he's doing and what he still needs to work on. He actually seems somewhat interested in our reactions to his work, once we can flag him down to try to talk to him about it. He doesn't seek out approval generally, we have to try to get his attention to show him we're looking at his work. But when we say something or ask about one of his papers and show it to him, he gets this little proud smirk like, "Yeah, I did that." Endearing, and A looks a lot like his daddy when he does this.
The only downside to A getting used to his school routine is that he'll still get up around 6 a.m., even on the weekends. I pray to sleep in until at least 7:00. (I should just shoot for the stars and ask for 8). Have I mentioned that I'm not a morning person?
Miss K is a little bundle of sunshine herself most mornings. She's up between 6:30 and 7 a.m. and comes running into our room yelling, "Daddy! Mommy! The sun goes up!!!" This is very exciting to her that the sun comes up each morning, so we hear about it. Every day. At bedtime, we get a dejected, "Oh...the sun goes down." K hates to go to sleep. She's even weaned herself off of a daily nap, much to mommy's chagrin.
K loves dress-up, dancing, and reading books. In fact, the little booger can already read some words and is working on her writing skills. She can get most of the alphabet written down all by herself, although we have noticed that she makes her "C" and "D" backwards. Something to watch. K also loves to draw and likes to create circles, triangles, and squares. She has recently discovered the joys of sidewalk chalk and has had a blast decorating the back patio.
Another favorite thing to do is help mommy and daddy cook. The process takes twice as long when she "helps", but she absolutely loves it. I never know what she's going to choose to wear when we're cooking. Sometimes it's a ballet skirt; sometimes it's nothing but her underwear and frog rain boots. As the muse strikes, I suppose. We made "monkey bread" for breakfast today, which she thought was hilarious -- she kept looking for the monkeys and wanted to open the oven to see if they were in there yet.
K is loving having Daddy home during the day, because he gets to play with her during what would normally be "water cooler breaks". She also gets exclusive mommy and daddy time throughout the day, so her world is all good right now.
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