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 |  Where am I going, and why am I in this handbasket? |
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Fair Warning: I've upped the rating on this blog. It is now set at GC. |
  That's me!Todays meeting at the school did not go well. It left me angry and flustered and tongue-tied and I know I did not express myself as well or as clearly as I should have. It was a "fake" IEP meeting. I requested an IEP meeting. I scheduled an IEP meeting, but what I attended was a "discussion meeting." What the....? Yeah, I've had fake IEP meetings before. All the fun of pissing off the parent with out any of the pesky, legally binding paperwork. Nothing is resolved. If anything, our points of view are even more polarized. I want them to do what I know works. They (vice-principal, guidance counselor, learning support teacher and regular ed. teacher -that's a lot of "they") say that if they keep doing things the same way, then Zach won't make any progress. I know that's bullshit. Presenting new concepts in familiar and proven ways will result in learning new concepts. I know that, but when I get in the meetings and get all frustrated and upset (and I was very upset), I seem to lose my ability to articulate my thoughts. It is much easier for me to write than speak, but when I'm upset even my writing gets tongue tied. My emotions choke off that part of my brain where the words come out. So I get upset, and then they change tack and suddenly they are all about reason and compromise. They start talking down to me, or talking me down... I'm not sure which. Explaining to me about the philosophy of inclusion and how they strive to include a child as fully as possible in the regular ed curriculum; striving to find common ground. "After all," they say with condescending smiles, "we are all on the same page here. We all want Zachary to be successful." Then the Vice Principal looks at me and says "What do you think Mom?" It is all I can do to keep from hurling my chair at him. At the very least I want to hurl my lunch. Rule #1: Don't call me mom unless I hatched ya! Rule #2: Don't come between a momma bear and her cub. Oh yeah, but I shouldn't worry because everything is going great. He has only had two crying episodes at school (which I didn't know about until today) so really, things couldn't be any better. Tonight I'm stewing and trying to decide where to go from here. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go plunge the toilet again.  |
| Anyone remember the old ad campaign for Canoe cologne? Sadly, I cannot canoe. I’m lacking in the basics. First, I don’t have a canoe. Second, I have no ability. But I have the desire! Yep, I have the desire in spades. That should count for something… right? I am jealous of bugzy is baaaccck!!   ’s canoe… not to mention her ability to paddle it solo. I love being out on the water. When I go to the beach, I love to go canoeing on the bay. I love the rhythm of the paddles and the rocking of the boat, but I could do without the yelling of the husband. Unlike Bugz, I haven’t mastered the art of solo canoeing (or tandem canoeing for that matter) so when I go out I’ve got hubby in the back of the boat to steer. Now in theory this means that I should just paddle merrily along while he compensates as needed to keep us going straight. So, I’ll never understand why he keeps yelling at me. Telling me, “just get your damn paddle out of the water!” Well that feels a bit counter productive. Sheesh! We’ve had many great canoeing adventures. There was the time we found an Osprey’s nest and paddled over to get a closer look. The nest was on a platform out in the bay, so we paddle right up to it. There were two baby birds that we could see in the nest, and two fierce adults nearby. They took exception for our visit and came swooping and screeching at us to discourage any loitering. It took three passes with the canoe just to get a decent picture! Another time we were out at low tide and came up on a pontoon boat that had beached itself on a sand bar. Tony hoped out of the canoe to help push the other boat free. He heaved and hoed and ultimately lost a shoe in the muck and mud. Since I could only paddle in a circle, he needed to wait for me complete my circuit before I could get back over to pick him up. But it gave him time to look for the shoe (not that he ever found it). Since I get tired of getting yelled at, I decided to take my mother canoeing once. Since I had a basic concept of steering, I took the back. The dock was on a canal that lead out to the bay, and we planned to paddle around on the bay. Unfortunately, all we could do was turn circles in the canal. Most of our momentum came not from paddling, but from pushing off the bulkheads when we got too close to the canal sides. It was sad. Of course my husband was out on the screen porch shouting instructions. Well, he was trying to shout, but it’s hard to do when you’re laughing that hard. I think I might do better at kayaking.  |
| I will be meeting with my son's third grade teacher this week to hash out some of the issues and concerns that cropped up in the first two weeks of school. I'm not happy with things as they stand and have had a steady flow of correspondence back and forth to communicate my dismay. With the meeting coming up, I've been think a lot about Zachary and what he needs. I've given a lot of thought to accommodations we make for him at home. It is funny how quickly things come to seem normal.  Here is a list of five to give you some examples. 1. I plunge the toilet at least once a day. Zachary does not seem to have the ability to regulate his toilet paper usage. He went through a phase of using whatever was left on the roll every single time he went potty, but he got over that. Now he just uses too much and clogs the toilet. My first choice for resolving this would have been to invest in a super toilet with the "pressure assisted" flush, but those are loud and Zachary doesn't like them. 2. I never turn on a blow dryer, vacuum cleaner, blender, food processor, can opener or other noisy appliance with out loudly announcing first that "Mommy is going to turn on the _______ now." This gives Zach the opportunity to plug his ears, cover his head with a blanket, or run far, far away. 3. His bed is never made. Zachary has a large assortment of blankets that live on the floor next to his bed. Every night it takes a different configuration of sheets and blankets to make the bed feel right to him. Zachary has "sensory processing" issues and the feel and weight of his covers is important for him to sleep. 4. I talk in scripts. He knows the scripts for all the daily routines, and sticking to the scripts makes life go much easier. When he get in the car I tell him "buckle up buttercup," (We used to sing it to the tune of "Build me up buttercup" but fortunately we've dropped the singing part.) and if I miss my cue he'll remind me to say it. Saying it is important to him because it is part of the script. 5. I hide scissors. He can't resist scissors. If he finds a pair, he WILL cut something with them. Sometimes it is his own hair, but sometimes it is the dog or his clothes or the broom. There are other things I have to be careful of too. Last time he lost a tooth, the tooth fairy left him four quarters. In the morning, I found him laying in bed with all four quarters in his mouth. Next time the tooth fairy will leave bills only. LOL, and that's just the tip of the iceberg. I love my little guy! Alright, one last thing. I want to thank bugzy is baaaccck!! for giving me this wonderful merit badge. ![Merit Badge in Inner Strength
[Click For More Info]
For your courage and your dedication. Your ability to keep looking ahead, supporting and loving those around you even when thing are rocky and unstable and unknown. I admire your strength and wisdom.
*^*Heart*^*](https://images.Writing.Com/imgs/writing.com/writers/badges/general-Inner_Strength-1150.gif) Thanks Bugzy! PS- When I set out to write my blog about Zachary I just kept writing and writing. I ended up with six pages in word, and realized I couldn't post it as a blog entry. I fell back on the good old list of five, but I did put the original entry in my port, and if you are interested, this is the link...
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| Today was mine alone. I pushed aside the nagging voice that begged me to make *productive* use of the day, and I went for a hike along the creek. I started off on my favorite trail, but soon found a dry, stone-filled creek bed where the singing water once flowed. Hiking upstream, I saw the point where the creek had strayed from its old course. The creek now lies almost 100 yards north of the trail, obscured by the line of trees that had anchored the far bank. I stood there thinking about it for a long time. All the effort and planning to develop green-ways and foot paths along the creek, can all be shot to hell with a single storm. The rain swollen creek can rip trees from the ground dragging and discarding what was. And yet, for the havoc; for all the wrecked plans; and paths to nowhere; the creek continues to flow toward the river. The course may shift, but the destination remains. If it is meant to be, it will find a way. I made my way to a different trail head, and followed the sound of water tumbling and tripping over rocks. The trail brought me to a wide and rocky stretch of creek. I have never been able to resist picking my way across stepping stones, and the creek was loaded with stones.  Since my trail had ended, I took to the creek. I worked my way back downstream hopping from stone to stone and admittedly getting my feet a little wet in the process. Finally I got to a point where I couldn't go much further. This was the view ahead of me. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The stepping stones were getting fewer and farther between. I turned back and took this picture of the view upstream. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** And that's when it hit me. This is my life. I am standing midstream. I can look back over my shoulder and see all the stepping stones; those I took, and those I didn't. I can see the obstacles I skirted around. It's easy to see back the way I came, but when I look ahead things look risky. Where are the stepping stones? What will I find around the next bend? As in life, there is only one way to find out. “The river knows this; we will get there someday.” |
| Tony will not be getting licensed. The results of the state test are back and he did not pass. Don't know how he did on the other test, but since he must pass both, it will six more months of waiting. (He has to wait the 6 months before he can retake the PA exam.) I'll try to blog more later. |
| Yesterday I was driving home and as I approached the creek, not more than a mile from my house, I noticed people gathered on the bridge gawking and taking pictures. I looked out over the creek and was shocked to see that the water was acid green! It was quite a sight. I didn't have time to stop and investigate, but I felt a little knot of concern knowing something was amiss in the creek from which our drinking water is drawn. Apparently others were concerned also and the 911 Control Center was flooded with calls. Fortunately, there was no emergency. This was a test. This was only a test. It was a $56,000 test designed to study the dispersal patterns of a contaminate in the creek... a test that will provide data needed to protect the local water supply. Ten gallons of non toxic, florescent green dye were dumped into the creek yesterday morning. No one expected the coloration to be quite so intense. Had they known, they would have notified the public in advance. A team of hydrogeologists measured the concentration and movement of the dye in the creek, and by dusk only traces of the dye remained visible. At the peak of the study though, the creek looked like this... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I think it was a good thing they used green dye and not red. I can't imagine the panic that might have caused. |
| My husband is having his hours cut at work. Some of his contract hours are spent doing evaluations on kids who are admitted to a residential treatment facility. A week or two back, there was a riot at one of the residential programs - the result of housing members of rival gangs in the same dormitory. For the time being, the Department of Public Welfare is not allowing any more kids to be admitted to the program. No new admissions will translate to less work for my husband who is already only working 30 hours a week.  On the bright side, he received an email from the job recruiter he previously spoke to about positions in Fort Hood, Texas. She remembered that he would be taking his exams in late August to early September, and wants to know how he did. She would also like to talk with him about their sign on bonuses and to see if he might still be interested. He is. He showed me an article yesterday in a psychology journal. It was called "Serving those who serve." He feels a very strong calling to work with soldiers and their families, and I think it is an admirable goal. Texas is not my first choice because it is so removed from my family and friends, but they certainly seem to be the most aggressive when it comes to recruiting. I spent some time staring at maps again today and wondering if I could be happy living in Texas. I wish I knew whether or not he passed the licensing exam! I'm feeling rather impatient partly because of my own discontent with work and with the school. I'm ready for a change. Tom Petty had it right all along. The waiting really is the hardest part. "The waiting is the hardest part Every day you see one more card You take it on faith, you take it to the heart The waiting is the hardest part" |
| I walked down the hall with the armload of carefully folded clothes that my daughter had neglected to put away. Her door was closed. Stooping down, I attempted to gain the door knob without dropping the laundry. Amazing what you see when you change your perspective... I read the words... "lustful girls bare with luscious new..." Oh my! What is this? A couple years ago, in an effort to provide a little spark to the kids vocabularies, and creativity, I bought them magnetic poetry kits. We painted large sections of their bedroom doors with a special magentic paint, and let them go to town. Other than the inevitable word spillage that happens when they get in a snit and slam their doors, it has worked great. Somewhere along the line I most have stopped reading the poetry though. Now here I am face to face with "lustful girls bare with luscious new..." lust and ful are on two different magnets. She's quite the clever girl. How did I not censor out the word lust? Okay, I like that word. Lust is important. It is an important vocabulary word. I don't think it'll appear on the SAT's, but what would life be without lust. "lustful girls bare with luscious new..." New what? A word must have fallen off. I searched the floor, but couldn't find a missing word. Hmmm... I started reading the other strings of words. Some were nonsensical... "manipulate delirious petal monkeys" Some were kinda creepy and mysterious... "a lie about baby blood" Some were puzzling... "a void your head from time near" which might have also been "avoid your head from time near" Some were just there... "worship wax" From now on, I think I'll take all my writing prompts off my kid's bedroom door. |
| Back in 2001, my community had nearly 4,000 residents commuting to jobs in New York City on a daily basis. Those 4,000 commuters each had an average of 2.3 family members in their immediate household (not a real statistic, just an illustration.) That gives you 9,200 people. Multiply that by the number of friends, families and neighbors each may have had, and you can start to get a feel for the impact that 9/11 had in my small, rural community. Commuters were stranded in NYC. Communications all but shut down, and area schools were locked up tight. No students would be released for the day until the schools could verify that every student had someone to go home to. I worked then, as I do now in a county human service agency. Numb with the shock and horror of it all, we had a tremendous amount of work to do. Our office operates the Mental Health Crisis Line, and many of the workers here were pressed into service as crisis workers that day. The managers attended countless meetings with other agencies to formulate plans and brace for the impact. Aside from the kids in schools, there were the day care centers to consider. Several day care centers agreed to stay open all night for kids who had parents stranded in the City. Volunteers signed up to transport kids to the open day care centers and more people volunteered to help staff those centers. Meals were arranged to feed both the kids and the volunteers. No one wanted to think beyond the immediate crisis. No one wanted to think about parents who might never come home, but in the background of it all there was a television flickering with nightmarish images that would be shown over and over and over… |
| Yesterday I tortured myself with the effort of putting feelings into words. GASP! Today, I'm taking the easy way out. I'm gonna copy something I received in an email. I'm sure you'll all forgive me for the lack of original thought today because this is just too damn funny... The subject of the email was Hair Removal 101... "All hair removal methods have tricked us with their promises of easy, painless removal - The Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax. My night began as any other normal weekday night. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: Maybe I should pull the wax out of the medicine cabinet. So I headed to the site of my demise; the bathroom. It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand and then they get warm and you peel them apart press it to your leg (or wherever else) and hair comes right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean I'm no girly, girl but I am mechanically inclined enough that I can figure it out. *YA THINK!!!* So I pull one of the thin strips out. It’s two strips facing each other, stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. Cold wax my rear end (Oh how this phrase haunts me!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. OK so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-ra, fighter of all wayward body hair and smooth skin extraordinaire. With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet. Using the same procedure I apply the next strip across the right side of bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself. RRRRIIIPPP!!!! I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!.... OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!! Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half of the strip. SHIT!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP. Everything is swirling and spotted. Do I hear crashing drums??? OK, back to normal. I want to see my trophy - A wax covered strip with my hairy pelt, that has caused me so much pain, sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it. Where is the hair? WHERE IS THE WAX??? Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair… the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. SHIT! I Run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake...................remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet. I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. DAMN!!!!!!!! I hear the slamming of the cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut. Butt?? Sealed shut. I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself "Please don't let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off." Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off right??? *WRONG!!!!!!!*I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. Now, the only thing worse that having your businesses glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub. In scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax. So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub!! God bless the man that convinced me I should have a phone in the bathroom!!!!! I call my friend thinking surely she's waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter "So, my butt and who-ha are stuck to the bottom of the tub!!" There is a slight pause. She doesn't have a secret trick but does try to hide the laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located on bottom "Are we talking cheeks or hole or what?" She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night. While we go through various solutions, I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I slip into glazed donut land. My friend is still talking with me and my hand reaches towards the saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point. I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!! The scream probably woke the kids, scared the dickens out of my friend, but I really don't care. "IT WORKS!! It works!! I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair.............................................THE HAIR IS STILLTHERE......................ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!. So I shaved it off. Heck, I'm numb at this point. Next week I'm going to try hair color..." |
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