Dragon, Jeff
May 12, 2007
Dear Russell,
I had a dream last night about you. I have dreamed about you before but this one was unusual: you were alive, and I saw you and W.
I know this is just a manifestation of my subconscious desire, but it really felt like a visit. A delightful, unbidden, welcome visit.
I hugged you and I told you that I had published your letters, as I once said I would. I asked if you wanted to resume our correspondence. I was a bit disappointed that you declined, but I understand; postal service and Internet connection being what they are between the realms of the living and the dead.
I wish we had had more time. I have so much to tell you: I earned my MBA. I am divorced now. I have twin teen aged boys. I am a "homemaker."I would love to discuss current events with you. The world has changed in the past twelve years: Gay rights and gay marriage are no longer a fantasy. Our president sucks. The U.S. is in another senseless war.
Although my grief over losing you has lessened in recent years, my love for you clearly hasn't. Thanks so much for your brief visit.
Love, L
May 11, 2007
May 7, 2007
Dear Aunty (letter)
I love paper, I love lollipops; nice to see you. I love you so much. Are you going to New York?
I just have to sneeze. I sneeze a lot. Too many times. Are you coming here? I have a cold and I sneeze a lot.
I love coloring, and I like Animal Planet.
Julian
I just have to sneeze. I sneeze a lot. Too many times. Are you coming here? I have a cold and I sneeze a lot.
I love coloring, and I like Animal Planet.
Julian
April 30, 2007
April 29, 2007
Goodbye Kitty
Inky's stay with us is winding down. Her owners tell me they will be back in town next week.
Inky's temperament has proven perfectly suited to our household: she makes her presence known, but has her own schedule and preferences. Princess that she is, she only deigns to allow us to care for her. She has her agenda and plans, and if her path happens to cross with ours, she might permit us to pet her or play with her.
After two months of warning the boys not to get too attached, I am the one who is overly devoted to Inky. (Perhaps I can negotiate visitation rights?)
Yesterday, at a sale, Hart discovered a toy calico cat, and rushed over to show me, crowing, “Inky, Inky, Inky.” We are complete pushovers for stuffed animals. I hesitated. But in that nano-second I realized that having a toy representation of Inky is bound to be difficult once she leaves. After Hobbes died, Jeff told me that the two snapshots of her on the fridge “made him sad,” so I removed them. A toy Inky is no equivalent for the real one.
“Let’s buy it for Inky’s parents!” I said to Hart. I had a brief notion of presenting it to them as a "welcome home" token. But again, good sense overcame impulse. I know that if we bring that toy into the house, we will never be able to relinquish it, no matter how well-meaning our intentions.
Inky's temperament has proven perfectly suited to our household: she makes her presence known, but has her own schedule and preferences. Princess that she is, she only deigns to allow us to care for her. She has her agenda and plans, and if her path happens to cross with ours, she might permit us to pet her or play with her.
After two months of warning the boys not to get too attached, I am the one who is overly devoted to Inky. (Perhaps I can negotiate visitation rights?)
Yesterday, at a sale, Hart discovered a toy calico cat, and rushed over to show me, crowing, “Inky, Inky, Inky.” We are complete pushovers for stuffed animals. I hesitated. But in that nano-second I realized that having a toy representation of Inky is bound to be difficult once she leaves. After Hobbes died, Jeff told me that the two snapshots of her on the fridge “made him sad,” so I removed them. A toy Inky is no equivalent for the real one.
“Let’s buy it for Inky’s parents!” I said to Hart. I had a brief notion of presenting it to them as a "welcome home" token. But again, good sense overcame impulse. I know that if we bring that toy into the house, we will never be able to relinquish it, no matter how well-meaning our intentions.
April 26, 2007
Amen, Sister!
After reading Stephanie Fosnight's column, I sent her an email response. I have two, count 'em two, such children. Eating out is one pleasure I would not forgo when we adopted the twins over ten years ago. I have found that other diners do not care to be involved in a social experiment and prefer that families with autistic children just stay home . . . for the next twenty years.
The onus is on us parents to make the trip successful. My tips:
Go early, so that the restaurant is not too crowded and the waitstaff are not frazzled. But not too early, when there might be a single waiter for the whole place.
Never go anywhere that requires a wait for a table.
Avoid eateries that cater to families with children. The food is awful and there are lots of children whose behavior is not a good model for yours.
Avoid places that are so quiet you can hear glasses and silverware clink, but
Avoid loud restaurants, or ones with piped-in music. It's unpleasant and over-stimulating for autistic and hyperactive children; they can't tune it out.
Order ahead. Restaurants love quick turnover for their tables. Call your order in, sit down, eat and leave.
Request a booth, if possible, off the main traffic route. I have learned the hard way not to sit too close to senior citizens, in the main area, or near the entrance. I do not relish being entertainment for the entire restaurant!
Bring engaging activities: pad and crayons, music, small toys. Play "I Spy" while you wait.
Remind children about expected behavior. Our family's rules are: "inside voice only" and "stay in your seat." If I give more than one warning for each, we have to leave.
Let other adults at the table know to decide immediately what they want, so that they can order the first time the server approaches. If someone needs "another minute, please," they will be sorry and so will your child. Also, you may never see your waiter again.
Tip the staff well.
Eating Out With Autistic Children (article)
Skokie-Review.com Member of the Sun-Times News Group
April 26, 2007
Restaurant visits tough when kids have autism
Last Friday night, I went out for a late dinner with friends. The company was excellent; the food passable. But when I remarked that the meal seemed overpriced, a companion pointed out that we'd spent two and a half hours in a cheerful setting with great service.
"You're paying for a piece of temporary real estate when you go out to a restaurant," he said.
This comment got me thinking about just what kind of environment we expect when we go out to eat. Most of us, I'd wager, simply want a congenial place to chat and nosh on enjoyable food.
Yet for families of kids with disabilities, this is a simple pleasure often denied. Worse, these moms, dads and kids often get censured by other diners -- and sometimes even the staff -- if their children start to act up, as they so often do.
I recently sat in on a meeting of the Autism Task Force of the North Suburban Special Education District. This group of parents, mostly moms, works hard on autism issues in order to help other families like themselves.
These parents would also like to take their kids out for a meal once in awhile.
Gerry told me how she'd take her now-grown son out and hear comments like, "Look at that little brat." Mia explained how hard it is on her other children when her autistic son becomes unruly and the whole family suddenly has to leave.
"The other kids get so compromised by a child with a disability," she said.
Ann has been smarting over one incident for years. She and a friend had gone out to lunch, bringing both of their children. Then Ann's son, who's autistic, started getting fussy.
Ruined lunch?
When two other diners loudly told the manager their meal had been ruined by "that child," while glaring in Ann's direction, she started to feel pretty fussy herself.
Still, Ann and her friend tried to explain to the women that the boy had a disability, but the women merely ignored Ann and told her friend, "You have nothing to worry about. Your child behaved fine," before stalking out.
It was clear the irate ladies felt their lunchtime real estate had been pollluted by an undesirable neighbor.
The task force members know plenty of families who've just stopped going out to eat. It's too traumatic, they say. Yet staying home all of the time can be isolating. Besides, many autistic children need to learn basic social skills like eating in a restaurant, ordering from a menu and handling money. All of this takes practice.
Michelle Wolke has spent 35 years helping children with autism learn to eat out. The Northbrook resident, who runs a private therapy practice with her son Jason Portman, takes kids from all over the city and suburbs out on restaurant excursions.
Though Wolke herself is immune to embarrassment after all these years, she knows it can be annoying or even frightening to other diners when a child suddenly throws a tantrum, tries to run away, or starts shouting. One of her charges, in fact, has a habit of announcing, "All done!" before suddenly throwing whatever is in front of him across the restaurant.
Changing behavior
Wolke is, of course, working with the child on correcting this behavior, but she also warns other diners when she brings in her students.
"I tell them I'm here with an autistic kid and that he might throw something or kick," she said. She also asks to be seated in a back booth, brings activities for the children to play with while waiting, and asks the manager for quick service and patient wait staff.
The best restaurants, according to the parents I spoke to, are understanding and accomodating. They prepare meals according to an autistic child's special request, move them to the front of lines, and understand if the family needs to make a quick exit.
But what about the rest of us?
If you see a child throwing a tantrum or being especially fussy, ask the parent if and how you can help. Don't judge if you see a kid watching a portable DVD player while the rest of the family eats, or if a mom lets her boy sing to himself as she finishes her meal.
Whether you're at McDonalds or at Charlie Trotter's, be patient and remember that these kids may be unruly but they're still kids. Just like any other kids, they deserve to go out and order a meal.
The rate of children born with autism has risen from 1 in 166 to 1 in 150 in just two years, according to the Autism Society of America. More and more parents are bearing the immensely heartbreaking, high-stress burden of trying to raise an autistic child as normally as possible.
The least we can do is welcome them onto the grounds of our temporary patch of real estate.
Stephanie Fosnight may be reached at sfosnight@pioneerlocal.com.
April 26, 2007
Restaurant visits tough when kids have autism
Last Friday night, I went out for a late dinner with friends. The company was excellent; the food passable. But when I remarked that the meal seemed overpriced, a companion pointed out that we'd spent two and a half hours in a cheerful setting with great service.
"You're paying for a piece of temporary real estate when you go out to a restaurant," he said.
This comment got me thinking about just what kind of environment we expect when we go out to eat. Most of us, I'd wager, simply want a congenial place to chat and nosh on enjoyable food.
Yet for families of kids with disabilities, this is a simple pleasure often denied. Worse, these moms, dads and kids often get censured by other diners -- and sometimes even the staff -- if their children start to act up, as they so often do.
I recently sat in on a meeting of the Autism Task Force of the North Suburban Special Education District. This group of parents, mostly moms, works hard on autism issues in order to help other families like themselves.
These parents would also like to take their kids out for a meal once in awhile.
Gerry told me how she'd take her now-grown son out and hear comments like, "Look at that little brat." Mia explained how hard it is on her other children when her autistic son becomes unruly and the whole family suddenly has to leave.
"The other kids get so compromised by a child with a disability," she said.
Ann has been smarting over one incident for years. She and a friend had gone out to lunch, bringing both of their children. Then Ann's son, who's autistic, started getting fussy.
Ruined lunch?
When two other diners loudly told the manager their meal had been ruined by "that child," while glaring in Ann's direction, she started to feel pretty fussy herself.
Still, Ann and her friend tried to explain to the women that the boy had a disability, but the women merely ignored Ann and told her friend, "You have nothing to worry about. Your child behaved fine," before stalking out.
It was clear the irate ladies felt their lunchtime real estate had been pollluted by an undesirable neighbor.
The task force members know plenty of families who've just stopped going out to eat. It's too traumatic, they say. Yet staying home all of the time can be isolating. Besides, many autistic children need to learn basic social skills like eating in a restaurant, ordering from a menu and handling money. All of this takes practice.
Michelle Wolke has spent 35 years helping children with autism learn to eat out. The Northbrook resident, who runs a private therapy practice with her son Jason Portman, takes kids from all over the city and suburbs out on restaurant excursions.
Though Wolke herself is immune to embarrassment after all these years, she knows it can be annoying or even frightening to other diners when a child suddenly throws a tantrum, tries to run away, or starts shouting. One of her charges, in fact, has a habit of announcing, "All done!" before suddenly throwing whatever is in front of him across the restaurant.
Changing behavior
Wolke is, of course, working with the child on correcting this behavior, but she also warns other diners when she brings in her students.
"I tell them I'm here with an autistic kid and that he might throw something or kick," she said. She also asks to be seated in a back booth, brings activities for the children to play with while waiting, and asks the manager for quick service and patient wait staff.
The best restaurants, according to the parents I spoke to, are understanding and accomodating. They prepare meals according to an autistic child's special request, move them to the front of lines, and understand if the family needs to make a quick exit.
But what about the rest of us?
If you see a child throwing a tantrum or being especially fussy, ask the parent if and how you can help. Don't judge if you see a kid watching a portable DVD player while the rest of the family eats, or if a mom lets her boy sing to himself as she finishes her meal.
Whether you're at McDonalds or at Charlie Trotter's, be patient and remember that these kids may be unruly but they're still kids. Just like any other kids, they deserve to go out and order a meal.
The rate of children born with autism has risen from 1 in 166 to 1 in 150 in just two years, according to the Autism Society of America. More and more parents are bearing the immensely heartbreaking, high-stress burden of trying to raise an autistic child as normally as possible.
The least we can do is welcome them onto the grounds of our temporary patch of real estate.
Stephanie Fosnight may be reached at sfosnight@pioneerlocal.com.
April 24, 2007
April 16, 2007
April 15, 2007
April 12, 2007
The Devil Wears Prada
One of my earliest jobs when I moved here to the big city was in the rarified world of contemporary art. And, in my career since, I have had a number of devil-bosses. So the film "The Devil Wears Prada," was tremendously enjoyable and hysterically familiar. However, the filmmakers have taken pains to demonstrate how competent boss-from-hell, Miranda Priestley, is. She is shown at an editorial meeting, gala events, working late hours on her computer, and nightly reviewing her upcoming magazine at home. She is blunt, arrogant, opinionated and imposing, but she is unmistakably competent. This is surely a Hollywood conceit, because my devil-bosses have been, to a one, astonishingly incompetent. If they have shown genius, it is at deflecting responsibility, claiming credit for ideas and projects that they attempted to undermine, and unabashed cluelessness.
Miranda's coat-tossing is imperious, but it's also a shorthand for "I'm here. Let's get to work and make fashion news happen." I knew a coat-tosser in the art world (really), but it was all about making an entrance. The only message was, "I'm here. One of you little people, fetch me some coffee." Later, my boss' boss, the actual real-life model for Martha in Edward Albee's Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, only deigned to come to meetings if food was being served, and then only if she was able to choose the restaurant. Six or seven people participated in this charade monthly; the real meetings took place informally without her. The boss-from-hell's presence inspires stifled sniggers more than creative ideas.
Miranda Priestley knows what is going on in her organization and in her field. Although she doesn't engage in small talk or traffic in personal confidences, she KNOWS what everyone is doing. In fact, her proteges are quite loyal to her. At the finale of the film, Miranda makes an unsolicited phone call to recommend the hapless heroine for a new job. Now that is real movie magic. The devil-bosses I have worked for do not know what their co-workers and subordinates do, nor do they care.
We regularly kept our boss busy for weeks criticizing the copy for donor solicitation letters through drafts 6, 15, 20 . . . draft 3 had gone to the printer and into the mail, weeks ago, on schedule. Once fearing the worst, I asked a friend to phone a former boss to ask for reference for me. He told her that he remembered my name, but could not remember what job I had had with the organization. (I had left about two months before.)
Supervisors are unlikely to attend charm school any time soon. However, a wonderful boss I had early on once told me, "When you have a good boss, you learn about yourself: when you have a bad boss, you learn about other people." Though I would not relish having Miranda Priestly for a boss, the employees of fictional RUNWAY magazine are on their best game in both fashion and people skills.
Everyone loves a devil-boss horror story. Click here.
April 8, 2007
April 6, 2007
Koan
A year or so ago, Jeffrey took strange delight in harassing a classmate who had similar sensory issues, by creeping up and making a ringing sound. This was very distressing, and Jeff got a big kick out of the boy's reaction. Then Jeff went off to junior high and I never really thought about it again. In fact, I haven't seen this particular kid in over a year.
The reason: He has developed an irrational panic disorder about Jeff. He hasn't been able to attend any event or school program that Jeff may or may not be attending without having a complete breakdown. His friends and classmates have taken it upon themselves to act as lookouts so that they can warn this boy if Jeff is in the vicinity. Jeff is blissfully unaware of this, and I was, too, until his mother told me so she can implement an intervention with the help of a behavioral therapist.
How crazy does a kid have to be to make another crazy kid even crazier?
The reason: He has developed an irrational panic disorder about Jeff. He hasn't been able to attend any event or school program that Jeff may or may not be attending without having a complete breakdown. His friends and classmates have taken it upon themselves to act as lookouts so that they can warn this boy if Jeff is in the vicinity. Jeff is blissfully unaware of this, and I was, too, until his mother told me so she can implement an intervention with the help of a behavioral therapist.
How crazy does a kid have to be to make another crazy kid even crazier?
April 5, 2007
April 1, 2007
Medical Miracle!
Since Hart had pneumonia, it seemed wise to get a chest X-ray for Jeff. So while Hart was napping in his hospital room, Jeff and I headed to radiology. Moments after Jeff was summoned, he and the technician came running out to look for me.
"His X-ray is completely clear. I saw this kid yesterday in the emergency room and he had pneumonia!"
"It's not really a medical miracle. This is a different kid," I had to tell him.
"His X-ray is completely clear. I saw this kid yesterday in the emergency room and he had pneumonia!"
"It's not really a medical miracle. This is a different kid," I had to tell him.
March 27, 2007
Sick, sick, sick
Hart has been sick for a week, really sick. High fever, clammy skin, glazed eyes, no appetite, the whole flu shebang. For 48 hours, he had diarrhea so severe, it required me to change his bedding and hose him down every four hours. So I have been housebound for the week, dutifully and cheerfully nursing him.
Hart is not a gracious patient. His speech has devolved into a collection of screeches, shrieks and wails, presumably all meaning, "I feel really lousy;" "Waaaaah," ("Fetch me some water, slave-girl,") and "Maaaaah," ("Come immediately to witness my distress.") Except when he is completely lucid. "Shut up, you are torturing me!" Hey, what did I do? I am just standing here minding my own business.
Jeff is off this week for spring break. So we are all home. I am taking care of Hart and trying to amuse Jeff and keep him from pestering Hart. It is a lost cause. It's a bonanza for him. Jeff can annoy both of us at once.
Update: Hart was entitled to be cranky. He was admitted to the hospital this morning. He was feverish and dehydrated. Once he was on an IV, his complexion started improving immediately. Although Jeff and I spent many hours at the hospital, his behavior was exemplary under the circumstances. The house is notably quiet this evening.Too quiet.
Hart is not a gracious patient. His speech has devolved into a collection of screeches, shrieks and wails, presumably all meaning, "I feel really lousy;" "Waaaaah," ("Fetch me some water, slave-girl,") and "Maaaaah," ("Come immediately to witness my distress.") Except when he is completely lucid. "Shut up, you are torturing me!" Hey, what did I do? I am just standing here minding my own business.
Jeff is off this week for spring break. So we are all home. I am taking care of Hart and trying to amuse Jeff and keep him from pestering Hart. It is a lost cause. It's a bonanza for him. Jeff can annoy both of us at once.
Update: Hart was entitled to be cranky. He was admitted to the hospital this morning. He was feverish and dehydrated. Once he was on an IV, his complexion started improving immediately. Although Jeff and I spent many hours at the hospital, his behavior was exemplary under the circumstances. The house is notably quiet this evening.Too quiet.
March 20, 2007
Kvell
Since I kvetch often, I should also kvell occasionally. Today was Jeff's last speed skating meet of the season. Since there were no other skaters in the "special needs" category, he skated with his age-mates instead. In the races, he came in 4th out of four, but I clocked him on my stopwatch: an impressive personal best! In trying to keep up with the pack of better skaters, he shaved, nay hacked off, over three seconds on lap time. His coach concurs that this is the best Jeff has ever skated. (He won the 1st place trophy in his category.)
March 16, 2007
March 15, 2007
March 8, 2007
March 5, 2007
More Panda-monium
While we are in the throes of Panda fever, I had to laugh out loud at Starlee Kine's New York Times piece, "Scanning the Pandas."
Warning: Don't read this while drinking anything!
Warning: Don't read this while drinking anything!
March 3, 2007
Spelling Homework
Use each of this week's spelling words in a sentence.
The cows on the farm ran away to Wisconsin.
When the cows arrived to Wisconsin, they had a par-tay!
Then the cows went on the track and stole the train.
When they located a car, they went off the train and stole it and went to the country.
One of the cows asked, "Sir, are you using this table?"
All the cows were seated on top of the table.
Then the cows went to math class and did all the division problems for all the kids.
There was a tornado: it effected all the houses. The cows started the tornado.
The cows underlined 700 sentences.
The police saw the cows in the view, and went to the cows. The cows smashed his car completely.
The cows on the farm ran away to Wisconsin.
When the cows arrived to Wisconsin, they had a par-tay!
Then the cows went on the track and stole the train.
When they located a car, they went off the train and stole it and went to the country.
One of the cows asked, "Sir, are you using this table?"
All the cows were seated on top of the table.
Then the cows went to math class and did all the division problems for all the kids.
There was a tornado: it effected all the houses. The cows started the tornado.
The cows underlined 700 sentences.
The police saw the cows in the view, and went to the cows. The cows smashed his car completely.
I loved reading the story you created from your spelling words, Jeff!!!! Ms. D.
March 2, 2007
Plans
Many of my friends are shepherding their first borns, now high school juniors and seniors, through the college application process. These parents fully understand the import of such a decision and the huge financial burden they will incur. To a one, they are being driven to distraction by their sons' indecision and inaction.
I can watch neutrally from the sidelines (Jeff and Hart are only in 7th grade), secure in the knowledge that I will never have to go through this. Frankly, for myself, I can envision a more likely scenario of periodic appearances at parole board hearings, than campus visits.
However, at Jeff's annual IEP* meeting last week, the school district official asked what consideration had been given to mainstreaming experience for Jeff next year. I looked stricken. Hart and Jeff have never had any more mainstream experience than an occasional lunch in the cafeteria when they attended public school, and that was not a success. We, all three of us, are quite comfortable in the caring, nurturing milieu of special education, thank you very much.
She must have sensed my surprise. "Next year when we meet, we will be discussing high school for Jeff, and that will be another major transition." Hardly comforting. The wisdom of her words was irrefutable. Time marches on, swiftly and relentlessly, for both the college-bound and the vocational candidate alike. We may not be making the traditional post-high school plans, but we do have to make PLANS.
* Each public school child who receives special education and related services must have an Individualized Education Program (IEP). The IEP creates an opportunity for teachers, parents, school administrators, related services personnel, and students (when appropriate) to work together to improve educational results for children with disabilities.
I can watch neutrally from the sidelines (Jeff and Hart are only in 7th grade), secure in the knowledge that I will never have to go through this. Frankly, for myself, I can envision a more likely scenario of periodic appearances at parole board hearings, than campus visits.
However, at Jeff's annual IEP* meeting last week, the school district official asked what consideration had been given to mainstreaming experience for Jeff next year. I looked stricken. Hart and Jeff have never had any more mainstream experience than an occasional lunch in the cafeteria when they attended public school, and that was not a success. We, all three of us, are quite comfortable in the caring, nurturing milieu of special education, thank you very much.
She must have sensed my surprise. "Next year when we meet, we will be discussing high school for Jeff, and that will be another major transition." Hardly comforting. The wisdom of her words was irrefutable. Time marches on, swiftly and relentlessly, for both the college-bound and the vocational candidate alike. We may not be making the traditional post-high school plans, but we do have to make PLANS.
* Each public school child who receives special education and related services must have an Individualized Education Program (IEP). The IEP creates an opportunity for teachers, parents, school administrators, related services personnel, and students (when appropriate) to work together to improve educational results for children with disabilities.
February 24, 2007
Pandas (Hart)
I went to the zoo in Washington D.C. and saw giant pandas and a baby panda. The dad was playing and eating bamboo. They eat bamboo fourteen hours a day. The mom and the baby were sleeping. They will have another baby in the summer.
The zoo is practicing conservation by taking back the older panda to China, once the new baby is born.
The zoo is practicing conservation by taking back the older panda to China, once the new baby is born.
February 23, 2007
February 22, 2007
Poster Boys (photos)
Jeff in Cove School's capital capaign brochure and on The Cove School website.
Right: That's Hart last summer at camp.February 20, 2007
Highlights of Washington D.C. trip (photos)
Highlights of our trip to Washington:
* catching up with a number of old friends
* visiting Tai Shan, the panda cub (Click here to see him on pandacam.)
* an amazing drive through many significant American history sites en route to Charlottesville, Virginia
* the gem and mineral collection at the Smithsonian Institutiton
* the Wright Brothers' first plane at the Air and Space Museum (Hart's fave) and molas at the National Museum of the American Indian
* gabbing until the wee hours with my brother
Hart at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History
Tien Tien at the National Zoo
Wish you were here! Russell Taylor in Charlottesville, Virginia
On the Mall with Uncle Arnie
* catching up with a number of old friends
* visiting Tai Shan, the panda cub (Click here to see him on pandacam.)
* an amazing drive through many significant American history sites en route to Charlottesville, Virginia
* the gem and mineral collection at the Smithsonian Institutiton
* the Wright Brothers' first plane at the Air and Space Museum (Hart's fave) and molas at the National Museum of the American Indian
* gabbing until the wee hours with my brother
Hart at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History
Tien Tien at the National Zoo
Wish you were here! Russell Taylor in Charlottesville, Virginia
On the Mall with Uncle ArnieNew Lodger (photos)
Inky is staying with us this winter, while her parents "snowbird" in warmer climes.February 12, 2007
Best actor in a tragedy
Both boys were getting fidgety in rush hour traffic, as we tried to get a few doctors' appointments in between 5 and 6 p.m. At the crossing of the CTA Yellow Line, Hart had had enough.
"OH, NO! Not the choo-choo!," he lamented.
"OH, NO! Not the choo-choo!," he lamented.
February 10, 2007
February 5, 2007
February 4, 2007
January 28, 2007
Please don't feed the animals
It is absolutely as a last resort that I am instituting a new household policy: no gifts, prizes, incentives can come home with Hart and Jeff.I don't want to be ungracious . . . so many of you have been so generous with the boys. I am trying alleviate some of the sturm and drang at our house.
Some of the trouble is the boys' unhealthly competition with each other, so there's crying, teasing and retaliation over goodies and toys that come into the house. In some cases, they just aren't able to care for these precious items and it becoms a disappointment.
(I spent hours trying to reglue Hart's ceramic Columbian bus back together. Some of you will remember the sad fate of Jeff's toy limousine.)
I hope I can count on your cooperation. My message to the boys is that any items they earn at school must stay there. Apologies in advance to Yu-Gi-Oh and car lovers everywhere, the newly-traded items have to stay at your house!
Sincerely yours,
I.A.T.M.M.I.T.W. *
*I am the meanest mom in the world.
January 18, 2007
A Big Brawl!
Jeff was working on his spelling homework, words with either /au/ or /aw/. Suddenly he dissolved in a fit of giggles.
"What's so funny?" I peeked over his shoulder at the list of words: awful, because, braun, draw, launch . . . brawl.
"It’s not what you think. That’s a fight with many people, not underwear."
"What's so funny?" I peeked over his shoulder at the list of words: awful, because, braun, draw, launch . . . brawl.
"It’s not what you think. That’s a fight with many people, not underwear."
January 13, 2007
Homework Hell
When it comes to homework, most parents of special needs kids will confess to a frequent desire to pop their kids upside the head. If nothing else, it might knock some new neural pathways into place.
"The silent E makes the vowel say its name," I say to Hart frequently. Blank stare. "Long A says 'ay," long E says 'ee,' long O says 'oh'." No flicker of recognition.
It was an insight when a friend told me recently of supervising her daughter's math homework. "This is 3rd grade math, you know," she said to her 7th grader.
"Really? It's so hard, I though it was high school math."
"The silent E makes the vowel say its name," I say to Hart frequently. Blank stare. "Long A says 'ay," long E says 'ee,' long O says 'oh'." No flicker of recognition.
It was an insight when a friend told me recently of supervising her daughter's math homework. "This is 3rd grade math, you know," she said to her 7th grader.
"Really? It's so hard, I though it was high school math."
January 12, 2007
Caution: Driver Singing
H: Mom, don't sing. You can't sing that high. This song is for a young girl.
Alas, too true.
Alas, too true.
Cups Redux
I have lived with Hart and Jeff a long time, and I grew up with my mother, so I am very tolerant of weird behavior. What I cannot tolerate is anyone who tries to convince me that aberrant behavior is not aberrant. To put it bluntly, don't piss on my head, then tell me it's raining.
I have gotten much less patient over the years. I have talked to many adults who deal with special needs kids and they all have horror stories about parents who forget to mention a few important tidbits about their children before sending them to summer camp, Boy Scouts, kindergarten. When the inevitable phone call comes, the parents either sheepishly confess that they thought Joey could try a summer without his medication, or become defensive and angry.
Frankly, I would love to try that. The constant due diligence I do on the boys' behalf is so tiresome. I used to case out any new place in advance taking Hart or Jeff there. I'd love to just put them on the bus like everyone else, wave goodbye, and hope for the best. But I know better. I am all for inclusion and diversity, but I practice full disclosure first.
So I have been ruminating about how to smooth things over with my mom and step-father after the imbroglio at their house. In the interest of full disclosure, I wish she had just said, “We have this freaky thing with our dishwasher. So just bear with me. If you want something to drink while you are here, bring your own glass or put your name on a Dixie cup.” What I resent is that earnest look to imply, “You use your dishwasher to clean dirty dishes after you use them. Now that’s really crazy!”
I have gotten much less patient over the years. I have talked to many adults who deal with special needs kids and they all have horror stories about parents who forget to mention a few important tidbits about their children before sending them to summer camp, Boy Scouts, kindergarten. When the inevitable phone call comes, the parents either sheepishly confess that they thought Joey could try a summer without his medication, or become defensive and angry.
Frankly, I would love to try that. The constant due diligence I do on the boys' behalf is so tiresome. I used to case out any new place in advance taking Hart or Jeff there. I'd love to just put them on the bus like everyone else, wave goodbye, and hope for the best. But I know better. I am all for inclusion and diversity, but I practice full disclosure first.
So I have been ruminating about how to smooth things over with my mom and step-father after the imbroglio at their house. In the interest of full disclosure, I wish she had just said, “We have this freaky thing with our dishwasher. So just bear with me. If you want something to drink while you are here, bring your own glass or put your name on a Dixie cup.” What I resent is that earnest look to imply, “You use your dishwasher to clean dirty dishes after you use them. Now that’s really crazy!”
January 5, 2007
(Not) Roeper and Ebert
Dreamgirls
H: There was too much inappropriate stuff.
L: I guess. I thought it would be like CHICAGO, singing and dancing. We enjoyed that, and that movie had inappropriate things . . . dancing girls and guns.
H: Too much, and too much swearing. I had to do this. (Demonstrates folding his toy elephant's ears down.)
L: Good to know. We'll see CHARLOTTE'S WEB next.
H: OK
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