ADHD, middle school, and assistive technology

Well, I haven’t blogged about it much, but I have become a prisoner of Tyler’s homework.  He is having a really tough year.  In preparation for middle school, the 5th grade students have reading, writing, and math with their homeroom teacher, and have block scheduling for social studies and science, each with different fourth grade teachers.  On top of that transition, Tyler goes to the gifted teacher for reading and math.  So his day looks like this:

Homeroom
PE, Art, or Music
Homeroom
Reading
Social Studies/Science
Homeroom
Math
Homeroom

So Tyler deals with three to four teachers on a daily basis, and has classroom changes almost every period.  That’s a lot of transition, and he has a really hard time getting back into a calm and focused state.  He gets very little done in school, and he spends most of every evening a) doing work he didn’t do in class or b) on punishment for not bringing home work he knows he didn’t do.

another conversation with the boy…

A few months ago I wrote a blog titled There’s Something About Mary, so if you missed that, you should check it out to see how totally cool my kid is.

So earlier this morning Tyler was cleaning his room, and I was adding one of those “three plugs in one” things to his outlet because he doesn’t have enough plugs by his desk and always seems to manage to unplug his alarm clock instead of his desk lamp.

And so he’s got the usual “stream of conciousness” coming out of his mouth, as it usually does once his eyes open, hopping from this topic and thought to that with an occasional pause here and there.  After one such pause, he starts to tell me something and stops, saying it’s too embarassing even to tell his mom.

Well.  I had no idea there was something on his mind before that, but now that I know it’s that deep, I’ve GOT to know what it is.

So I very gently encourage him to share.

And he tells me how Mary is the only person in his class who is *nice* to him.  Everyone isn’t mean to him, per se… but she’s the only person who is *really* nice.

Now, I know this is not exactly true, because Emily sits right next to him and I have a darn hard time picturing her being anything other than nice.

So he’s telling me how, last week when he left his lunch money sitting on the kitchen table right next to the snacks that he did manage to put in his bag, and he had to get a PB&J sandwich at school which he hates because they use that peanut butter that has chunks… Mary shared her salad with him.

Mary also wrote on the valentine hearts that all the kids had to write to each other, that Tyler has a nice singing voice… which is quite a compliment since Mary had a solo peice in the fifth grade program and is quite a little singer herself.

So Tyler is telling me how he doesn’t want anybody to know he likes Mary, except his seat mates who already know and whom he says he trusts.  I asked what he would think would happen if anyone else found out, and he said they would tease him forever… but no, just for the rest of the school year… hmmm, which really isn’t that long… because so and so thinks Mary is a goody-goody girl, and he’s not sure what that means but he knows it’s not a compliment.

Yes, well… don’t worry about that Tyler.  That’s just the kind of girl that Mommy likes.

And I wonder if he’s thinking maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to get found out.

So I told him that most people aren’t just worried about what other people are going to think… they’re also afraid the object of their affection will find out.  I ask him what he thinks would happen if Mary knew he liked her, and that’s when I got blown away.

Tyler tells me that she already knows… he told her himself.

WHAT?  WHEN?  HOW? 

Oh, yeah… he told her when he first started liking her, which I knew was definitely prior to Christmas break… but apparently he knew he liked her the third day of school.  And the conversation went something like this…

Mary:     Who do you like?

Tyler:     You.

Mary:     ME?

Tyler:    YOU.

Mary:     ME?

Tyler:     Yes, YOU.

Tyler told me after this, she just looked “kind of odd.”  I told him, stunned was probably more like it.  I told him it was pretty cool that he told her how he felt himself… that most people aren’t brave enough to share their feelings with someone they like, even when they know for sure the other person likes them back.

just a Saturday

So it’s been a long week flying solo, and I was definitely ready for some R&R today.  On Thursday, also known as Day Four, I discovered my battery was dead… but I hadn’t left the lights on?  And I will need to run downtown (shudder) to Tyler’s specialists office to pick up the prescription I called in on Monday, that he would need by Friday, but nobody from their office called to tell me it was ready, even after I left a follow up message Wednesday morning.  So I took Ro’s truck that day and the next… Friday evening when I get home I figure I’ll try to jump start it and head over to Auto Zone, and it turns right over.  Have no idea what’s going on there… but the battery tests fine. 

This morning the kids and I clean a little house, and Daija lobbies for a popsicle as soon as breakfast is over.  Actually, Tyler asked first, and I said no… then Daija approached me.

Dear Mr. Exterminator… (by Halle)

Dear Mr. Exterminator,

Please do not destroy me and my home.  If you don’t, I’ll continue to help you out with your bedbug problem.

I know I’m nasty, but that’s just the way I am… forever.

Sincerely,

Cockroach

Apparently, cockroaches eat bedbugs.  Who knew?  And Tyler shares with me that they can live without their heads for three weeks, go without food for a month, and hold their breath for 45 minutes.

Gotta love public education.

YIKES

So Daija wasn’t having the whole “Big Adventure with Daddy” concept.

We probably should have started talking to her about this trip several weeks ago, but I guess it didn’t occur to either of us that she wouldn’t want to go, the Daddy’s Girl that she is.

But yesterday when I started packing her suitcase, she was very emphatic that she didn’t want to go.

The girl who is constantly begging to go on a plane.

The girl who always wants to go with whoever is leaving.

She was firm.

“I don’t want to go with Dad.”

“I don’t belong in Ink-glund.”

“I don’t want to fly ober the Atlantics Ocean.”

“I don’t want to play with cousins.”

“I want to stay home and play in my room.”

She got REALLY excited when I said that I would be coming too – jumping up and down and beaming.  But when I stressed that I would not be coming today, that I would be coming later, she wilted again.

So we decided not to try and force her to go.  Though she’d probably have a great time once on the way, it’s a long trip and a great distance and not a lot of leeway to come home early if needed.  Not to mention the leg of the flight from PHX to PHL looked like H-E-L-L, and the trip there, at least, wouldn’t have been a fun one for her.  No seats open and 10-15 non-revs on every flight all day.  Ro missed the first two flights he tried for, and made it on the third, which unfortunately did not put him into Philly early enough to catch the flight to England.  Fortunately, he has a cousin in the Philly area that he can stay with tonight, and will make the leg from PHL to LGW tomorrow.

Which leaves me in a scary predicament. I haven’t been alone with all three of the kids for seven months.  I’m trying to remember how I used to do that… I mean, I did it for a little over a year the last time, so I should be able to handle 10 measly days, right?!?!?!

Twinkies, and other snack cakes

So you learn something new every day.

I have reached that point, 3/4ths of the way into the school year, that I am just tired of being hit up for money.

I’m tired of school pictures.

I’m tired of class pictures.

I’m tired of yearbooks (Christ, I was in high school before I had a yearbook.)

I’m tired of fundraisers.

I’m not interested in hitting up my friends and colleagues to buy shit that is substandard in quality and certain to break within weeks.

And thanks, but no, I’m not interested in fighting childhood obesty* and going door to door to asking for pledges for Tyler to participate in Jump for Heart.

I very crossly informed him the other morning, “My children are all healthy weights. Let the parents that send their kids to school with twinkies pay for childhood obesity.”

This dissolved Tyler into giggles.

“Mom, we’re not allowed to have that stuff at school.”

This is what the world has come to… junk food has actually been BANNED at my children’s elementary school.  No Little Debbie, no Doritos, no Fruit Roll-Ups, no Cracker Jacks, etc.

And I’m really OK with this, because the Safeway Delivery Man carries very little of that stuff through my front door anyway.  I send carrot sticks, pickles, cucumbers, avacado, sliced bell peppers, grapes, apple and orange wedges, pretzels, granola, etc.

But despite the fact that, when away from my children’s ever watching eyes, I am a junk food fiend, I’m never ceased to be surprised that I am clearly part of such a tiny population of parents who are conscientious about what their children eat.  I’m amazed that other parents are sending crap food to school in such quantity and with such regularity that it’s actually been banned in an elementary school handbook.

Tyler brought up Jump for Heart again.  I guess he thought that the dollar was some kind of admission fee and assumed I’d believed the same, and wanted to clarify with me that it was not for him to jump, to to help fight obesity.

I responded, with less ‘tude this time, that my children have healthy diets and that the parents who choose to feed their kids Twinkies and Doritos can pay to fight obesity… I already paid at the grocery store.

Again, my son almost fell over laughing.

My son tells me how funny I am, and I am compelled to ask what is so funny. My son tells me that I’m the only grown up who has ever said that word to him.  This is when I was learned, or should I say, had my memory refreshed, that the name of just about any snack cake has an alternate meaning for the ten year old boy. 

Granted, I remember weeners and ding dongs… but I never remembered the 10yo boy’s genitalia being referred to as a twinkie.

Live and learn, I guess.

*I realize that childhood obesity is a serious issue – no disrespect intended to anyone who may be battling weight issues, whether their own, or their children’s.

F.@&ING DEPARTMENT OF STATE

So I get online today to check the status of my passport.  It’s showing, for my passport, as well as Tyler and Halle’s passports, that I requested expedited processing and standard delivery, and should receive my passport within four weeks.  Oh, and that they use priority mail.

I paid for expedited processing and overnight shipping for all three of those applications, just like I did for Daija’s which arrived in the mail today, and only took 16 days, even tho’ the yokel at the post office insisted there was absolutely no way we’d get her passport in less than three weeks, but to be honest with us, we’d probably be lucky to get it in four.

And the IRONY of all this?  Last night I decided I was not going to stress about how all the last minute costs of this impromptu little trip were adding up, or whether or not the passports were going to arrive on time. 

I decided to use the power of positive thinking, and that everything would fall in line financially (like it always does) and that the passports, which would definitely not arrive in time for the wedding, would arrive in time for us to utilize my already scheduled three day weekend the week AFTER the wedding, to see Ro’s mom, which is all I really care about anyway.

Someone has a sense of humor and seems to enjoy playing with me.

Braids & Beads

Daija in Beads & Braids

I got an email from a friend the other day.  She’d been looking at the pictures from our Santa Barbara trip, and her daughter asked why the girls wore beads in their hair.  My friend started to respond, “Because they like it that way,” but decided to pose the question to me instead, to learn why we braid and bead.  I decided to make a blog of it, because I am sure that other ladies I know have good answers for this that may differ from my own, so maybe we can all learn something new.

Well, my friend’s first response is the right one from the girls perspective.  They like beads in their hair.  Halle always spends the first several days after hair is braided tossing her hair around her shoulders like she’s in an Herbal Essence commercial.  Daija likes beads because Halle likes beads.  And I like the beads too… when I was a little girl, probably around 2nd grade, I wanted to be black more than anything so I could wear beads.  And I still think they’re cute.  But aside from being decorative, they have a more practical purpose, which I explain to Ro every time he asks me why I put beads in the girls’ hair (he doesn’t like them). 

Halle has to take a bath and have her hair completely soaked and conditioned in the morning in order for me to comb it.  Taking a bath the night before isn’t even an option for her unless her hair is braided.  During the summer when she spends a lot of time in the swimming pool, it’s a real pain in the rump for her to have to take a shower at night to rinse off the chlorine and another one in the morning so her hair can be combed.  Between all that rinsing and the sun exposure, her hair can get very dry in the summer.  Plus, she has eczema, and two baths a day on top of chlorine really does a number on dry skin.  Daija’s hair, while not as fine as Halle’s, is much, much dryer and breaks much more easily.  So in addition to not using shampoo and the satin pillow cases and the satin nightcaps, I braid the girls’ hair to help protect it from breakage.  

Curly hair, whether thick and coarse or thin and fine, is very delicate.  It is prone to dryness, and breaks easily.  The more it is combed, the more opportunity for breakage.  An easy remedy for this is braids.  Some textures of hair can be braided and not even need rubber bands to keep the braids together.  Other textures of hair not only need to be fastened at the end prevent unraveling.  With finer textures, the braids themselves tend to kink in funny directions because they are so light.  I use the beads to add weight to the braids, so that they hang straight down and won’t wound up bent in whatever direction they went during sleep.  Even braided heads can wake up with the bedhead look

Butts, and other “big” conversations…

Daija was crawling around on the floor with her head down Thursday night, not looking where she was going.  After nearly tripping over her…

Me to her:     Be careful, Little Girl.

Her to me:     OK, Big Momma.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Friday morning I was trying to get dressed in something cute enough to have my passport picture taken in.  After unsuccessfully trying to get a pair of capri’s I bought last spring over my hips…

Me to Ro:     Babe, I’ve put on some weight.

Ro to me:     I could have told you that.

Me to Ro:     Well, I wish you had… I was awful surprised this morning when I tried to get dressed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Leaving the Aloha Festival this afternoon, and Halle caught a glimpse of her full profile in a car window.

MY BUTT IS BIG!!! 

My brain:  You’re singing to the choir, sister.

My mouth:  Your butt is beautiful.  Look, mine sticks out too.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Ro to Daija:     Where did you to go today?

Daija to Ro:     We went to Cal-i-for-knee-uh, where all the people and the flowers are.

Mom:               No, baby girl… it was Hawaii.

Daija to Ro:     Oh, yeah.  It was Hawaii, Daddy. 

and skips out of the room singing…. Ahhhh-lohhhh-haa OY, Ahhhh-lohhhh-haa OY, Ahhhh-lohhhh-haa OY!

“Niccollicious”

So a handful of suppliers we do a substantial amount of business with, have onsite reps at the hangar where I work.  They provide technical and engineering support, as well as the occasional lunch or bagel/donut breakfast.  They’re also good for footing the bill for happy hour on occasion.

Last Thursday, a bunch of us went out to lunch with one of these reps, named Sean.  We started out at Boston’s, which is OK but not someplace I would choose for lunch, were I doing the choosing.  Fortunately for me, there was going to be a thirty minute wait and the clan elected to go somewhere else.

We wound up at Macayo’s.

So while we’re waiting for them to set up a table to accomodate a party of 8, I peer shamelessly into the bar.

I do not see Arria’s husband.

As you may remember from both mine and Eileen’s accounts of our girls weekend, there was a dreadlocked bartender who was very cute and rather generous with his (ahem) margaritas.  On our way out to Reggae Night later that evening, I told Arria that I had met her IBM… her Ideal Black Man (I picked that catchy little phrase up from Something New, btw… cute movie). 

Arria is still asking me when we’re going to Macayo’s.  I have a feeling that, upon reading this, she is going to walk right over the three houses between hers and mine and kick my ass… but in my defense… your future hubby wasn’t there anyway. 

So I’m telling Kaylin, my friend and coworker who is the only other person in my office who has a TRUE appreciation for the beauty and substance and sheer pleasure of dark chocolate, about my last dining experience at Macayo’s.  And then, I realize who our waiter is.

Oh, yes.  It’s Nick.  Or, as his name tag proclaims, Niccollicious.

Now, there is nothing spectacular about Nick’s physique… in fact, it’s alarmingly like that of a twelve year old boy. 

As Eileen put it, “I could snap him like a twig.”

But he has thick brown hair and soulful brown eyes and a personality that could just suck the soul right out of a thirty-something woman who knows better. 

Indeed, by the time I’d downed half of that first margarita, I found that I could no longer look Nick in the eye when he stopped at our table, unless I really wanted to embarass myself by not only blushing, but also giggling like an ass.

So I’m telling Kaylin about this last dining experience, and Sean, the doll that he is, asks Nick how to pronounce his name. 

Nick responds, and Sean, with a straight face, asks, “Is that Greek?”

Having not imbibed in any alcoholic beverages or already had my head turned and left swimming by any bartenders, I manage to keep my composure.

6 THINGS EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE

You know that hearts and flowers chain letter you get from time to time, with the list of the things every woman should have and/or know?  The list ranges from whimsical to practical.  I have some addendums I’d like to share.

Every woman should have a toolbox that includes…..

 

1.      A bottle of white vinegar

2.      A box of baking soda

3.      A big box of regular white salt

Now, if you missed the volcano experiment in elementary school, when baking soda is added to vinegar, you get a chemical reaction, and your concoction will bubble and fizz… and clear a drain with a grease clog.  If you add salt to the mix, you get an abrasive bubbling and fizzing concoction that might just break up a toilet paper clog.

In the event of a more serious problem, every woman should have item 4 on my list.

1. A hand crank plumber’s auger/drain pipe snake

 

Which will run you approximately $15 at your local home depot.  This will clear major sink and toilet clogs (Allison tells me they’re very handy for toothbrushes down the toilet) and is also capable of handling a main sewage pipe clog.

Oh, and last but not least… if you have children – you need items #5 and #6

1. An adored Big Sister, who takes you on fabulous adventures and returns you with parasols to stab your brother with, gum to stick in your sister’s hair and oriental fans to drop down the main cleanout plug…

Good luck finding one though… they are priceless.

#6 A man who might grumble and moan, but saved you from having to snake your own main sewage drain… there’s nothing in the feminist code about me handling raw sewage.

Menu Planning with Daija

Are you cooking chicken or meatballs?

Chicken.

Chocolate chip cookies goes with chicken.

Really?

Yes.

Huh. I was thinking that macaroni & cheese and salad goes with chicken.

Ohhhh, yes… macaroni cheese and salad goes with chicken… I was going to talk about that.