I was in the bathroom doing what you'd expect any exhausted mother to be doing. In walks Maggie, holding up her stethoscope asking me where my heart is.
"Right here" I say.
Putting up the stethoscope to my chest she listens, "Oh its beating very hard. I can hear it." she says.
Bemused I ask, "Do you want to be a doctor when you grow up Maggie?"
"No. I want to be a Palei- Paleontologist" she declares.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Ryan Turned Two Today
For Ryan's 2nd birthday this year I decided to host a WPFF amongst friends and family at a local park. Instead of receiving gifts, I asked friends to donate food that would be dropped off at a local food bank. The idea was well received but much to their regrets invitees started to fall to the wayside a couple of days before the planned event. I won't lie, I did start to sulk and considered cancelling the event but I am so glad I didn't. So glad. Look at all the goodies we managed to collect, and there's still more to come as people are still wanting to donate.
The other big plus was that I got to spend some quality time with my adorable niece and nephew (who are growing up so fast) and their mummy, my sister-in-law (aka Lisa). It is my relationship with Lisa that actually inspired this celebration of Ryan's birthday so I cannot take full credit. Please visit Will Play For Food blog for a little inspiration of your own -- it is Lisa's friend and she would be delighted to hear from anyone interested in hosting their own "WPFF".
In the meantime, here's a couple of shots from the even care of Lisa -- "The Birthday Boy and his Birthday Cookie" and "The Cousins Sharing Some Snacks"
The other big plus was that I got to spend some quality time with my adorable niece and nephew (who are growing up so fast) and their mummy, my sister-in-law (aka Lisa). It is my relationship with Lisa that actually inspired this celebration of Ryan's birthday so I cannot take full credit. Please visit Will Play For Food blog for a little inspiration of your own -- it is Lisa's friend and she would be delighted to hear from anyone interested in hosting their own "WPFF".
In the meantime, here's a couple of shots from the even care of Lisa -- "The Birthday Boy and his Birthday Cookie" and "The Cousins Sharing Some Snacks"
Sunday, August 17, 2008
Friday, August 15, 2008
Three Weeks of Speech Therapy
I have been absent on the blogging front. Quite possible the most obvious statement I have uttered recently. I'm not entirely sure why I've been so absent but I have a suspicion it has a little something to do with my dear son, Ryan, and his recent beginnings of group speech therapy.
For those not in the know, my soon to be two year is not yet talking. He's had a number of developmental evaluations and the end result has been that he is a good deal behind on his expressive language development. In fact some would say as much as a year. While that may sound staggering it really isn't that bad, though it isn't good either.
Today was the end of his third week of speech therapy and we have both come a long way since his first session. The first day I was already planning my exit strategy. I'll give it two weeks I said to myself. The second day I felt a little better and was hopeful that we found the right program for the two of us. The third day, I bowed my head and cried and I didn't give a damn who saw me or what they thought. Ryan cried the first day. Ryan cried the second day. Ryan cried the third day.
The second week rolled around and I put on my brave mummy face with feigned indifference. Perhaps Ryan was feeding off my own anxieties? The first day of the second week he cried. I wiped his nose and rubbed his back and tried to tell him he was okay and that everything was okay. Who was I kidding? The second day of the second week I practically pleaded with the therapist when I suggested Ryan would do better if I wasn't there to rescue him.
By the third day of the second week, I left the therapy session midway and my son did stop crying. You might think this would be reassuring but no. Not for me. I start to think that my son doesn't feel secure enough to show his raw emotions. I think he's feeling insecure and unsure and unhappy and confused and I still want to run into the room and rescue him. Through a video cam I watch his body language and his ambivalence towards conforming to the action of the group therapy. He does not look like he wants to be there, especially when he lays down his head on the table and turns his whole body away from the therapists.
At this point I am not sure of the pedagogy and mechanics of the group therapy and beginning to doubt its relevance for Ryan's specific needs. I still want to rescue him and I begin to plan my exit strategy again.
The third day of the second week rolls around and no sooner has the door closed behind Ryan, I am escorted to an office where, for the next hour I am being informed of the my responsibilities as a parent. I do not lie when I tell you I felt that I had been called to the headmistress office. I am sure best intentions were set and the young lady across the desk was very well educated and experienced and knew her stuff but she didn't have clue how to talk to a parent, to me. Ryan's advocate.
I was informed it was noted that I was not present for the last parent educational conference (where child care was not provided) and that I would be expected to attend them in the future. I was informed that if any homework that was not handed in on time, it would also be noted. I could go on with complaint about how insulted and undermined I felt but the effort would be futile here and really, I am trying to be positive.
As I said earlier, this is the end of the third week and despite the drama and the tears and the uncertainty of the first two weeks, this week has been relatively smooth by comparison. No tears this week and a little more participation from Ryan so I'm extending my warranty and hoping for the best possible outcomes. In the meantime I'm keeping my evil eye on everything and am ready to pounce, negotiate or verbalize my concerns. First order will be discussing interpersonal communication between the therapists and myself 'cos so far it ain't working for me.
For those not in the know, my soon to be two year is not yet talking. He's had a number of developmental evaluations and the end result has been that he is a good deal behind on his expressive language development. In fact some would say as much as a year. While that may sound staggering it really isn't that bad, though it isn't good either.
Today was the end of his third week of speech therapy and we have both come a long way since his first session. The first day I was already planning my exit strategy. I'll give it two weeks I said to myself. The second day I felt a little better and was hopeful that we found the right program for the two of us. The third day, I bowed my head and cried and I didn't give a damn who saw me or what they thought. Ryan cried the first day. Ryan cried the second day. Ryan cried the third day.
The second week rolled around and I put on my brave mummy face with feigned indifference. Perhaps Ryan was feeding off my own anxieties? The first day of the second week he cried. I wiped his nose and rubbed his back and tried to tell him he was okay and that everything was okay. Who was I kidding? The second day of the second week I practically pleaded with the therapist when I suggested Ryan would do better if I wasn't there to rescue him.
By the third day of the second week, I left the therapy session midway and my son did stop crying. You might think this would be reassuring but no. Not for me. I start to think that my son doesn't feel secure enough to show his raw emotions. I think he's feeling insecure and unsure and unhappy and confused and I still want to run into the room and rescue him. Through a video cam I watch his body language and his ambivalence towards conforming to the action of the group therapy. He does not look like he wants to be there, especially when he lays down his head on the table and turns his whole body away from the therapists.
At this point I am not sure of the pedagogy and mechanics of the group therapy and beginning to doubt its relevance for Ryan's specific needs. I still want to rescue him and I begin to plan my exit strategy again.
The third day of the second week rolls around and no sooner has the door closed behind Ryan, I am escorted to an office where, for the next hour I am being informed of the my responsibilities as a parent. I do not lie when I tell you I felt that I had been called to the headmistress office. I am sure best intentions were set and the young lady across the desk was very well educated and experienced and knew her stuff but she didn't have clue how to talk to a parent, to me. Ryan's advocate.
I was informed it was noted that I was not present for the last parent educational conference (where child care was not provided) and that I would be expected to attend them in the future. I was informed that if any homework that was not handed in on time, it would also be noted. I could go on with complaint about how insulted and undermined I felt but the effort would be futile here and really, I am trying to be positive.
As I said earlier, this is the end of the third week and despite the drama and the tears and the uncertainty of the first two weeks, this week has been relatively smooth by comparison. No tears this week and a little more participation from Ryan so I'm extending my warranty and hoping for the best possible outcomes. In the meantime I'm keeping my evil eye on everything and am ready to pounce, negotiate or verbalize my concerns. First order will be discussing interpersonal communication between the therapists and myself 'cos so far it ain't working for me.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
A Quote
I was reading through some flyers which came through my door this morning, one from a local college that was discussing its recent honor students. The author described stories of students who have achieved honor status and scholarships. Then I read a quote from the keynote speaker encouraging students to stay positive despite exasperating circumstances. In making a reference to Holocaust survivors the speaker said, "The more you are empowered, the more you have the ability to make a difference to the world by thinking clearly and making a positive response when frustrated." It struck a chord with me. What a difference it would make to allow my frustrations to charge a positive response instead of a negative one.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
I miss my Mummy
My mother called today. She was super sweet and loving and kind. It broke my heart.
She explained to me that she went shopping for the kids because she was thinking of them and as she couldn't come out and visit she would go shopping for them instead. As she detailed the clothing items she realized some pants were probably too long and a winter jacket may not get worn that much.
Her happy excited chirp fizzled down to a pragmatic mother by the end of the call, "Well, they can grow into them, and you can roll up the legs." I stifled my cries as she did hers, I'm sure.
We both felt the rip in our hearts as we knew if she was living here or I there she could be "Grandma Annie" and take them on shopping trips herself and Grandpa could buy them ice cream and give them his loose change from his deep pockets.
I love my parents and I miss them. My children have no idea of just how much they'd miss them too.
She explained to me that she went shopping for the kids because she was thinking of them and as she couldn't come out and visit she would go shopping for them instead. As she detailed the clothing items she realized some pants were probably too long and a winter jacket may not get worn that much.
Her happy excited chirp fizzled down to a pragmatic mother by the end of the call, "Well, they can grow into them, and you can roll up the legs." I stifled my cries as she did hers, I'm sure.
We both felt the rip in our hearts as we knew if she was living here or I there she could be "Grandma Annie" and take them on shopping trips herself and Grandpa could buy them ice cream and give them his loose change from his deep pockets.
I love my parents and I miss them. My children have no idea of just how much they'd miss them too.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
A New Reader
Maggie decided to choose this day to read to me. I mean really truly honestly and completely read to me. It was the best feeling ever. Gosh it was just beautiful to hear her voice. Words fail me right now and I wish I could time lock the emotions that ran out of me as she read word after word. For months, for more than a year, I have been trying to encourage Maggie to read a few words here and there but she has always refused to perform for me.
I have always been so sure she knows how to read. I see her mouth form the beginning sounds as her eyes glance over the letters and she has known her alphabet letters, upper case, lower case and phonetic since she was two, maybe earlier. Any place we go, any place -- a party, a restaurant, a supermarket, a park, a nature center, a DIY store, an airport, train station, a museum. Virtually any place I have taken her where there is a book she will find it, and she will "read it". She will find the one and only book in any facility and park herself on the nearest flat surface to browse the pages (you see my frustration that her love of books did not appear to bring along a love of reading the words within the pages?)
Today, out of the blue she just picked up book and read the tittle. Just like that. I did my usual thing as she introduced a new book to me, "Oh, that looks like a lovely book Maggie. What do you think its about? Look at the pictures. What do you think the tittle is?" "Bear Finds Some Treasure" she says quietly. We exchange in dialogue for a bit about the book and how well she read it and she brings me another book. "And this one Maggie. What does this one say?" "Miss Mingo and the First Day of School" ..."My Little Sister Hugged An Ape"..."Duck in the Muck"... and the reading went on and on.
She was truly marvelous today. I could squeeze her to mulch. I am so proud of her. I am so excited for her too. This is the beginning of a beautiful love affair for her. I can hardly contain myself.
I have always been so sure she knows how to read. I see her mouth form the beginning sounds as her eyes glance over the letters and she has known her alphabet letters, upper case, lower case and phonetic since she was two, maybe earlier. Any place we go, any place -- a party, a restaurant, a supermarket, a park, a nature center, a DIY store, an airport, train station, a museum. Virtually any place I have taken her where there is a book she will find it, and she will "read it". She will find the one and only book in any facility and park herself on the nearest flat surface to browse the pages (you see my frustration that her love of books did not appear to bring along a love of reading the words within the pages?)
Today, out of the blue she just picked up book and read the tittle. Just like that. I did my usual thing as she introduced a new book to me, "Oh, that looks like a lovely book Maggie. What do you think its about? Look at the pictures. What do you think the tittle is?" "Bear Finds Some Treasure" she says quietly. We exchange in dialogue for a bit about the book and how well she read it and she brings me another book. "And this one Maggie. What does this one say?" "Miss Mingo and the First Day of School" ..."My Little Sister Hugged An Ape"..."Duck in the Muck"... and the reading went on and on.
She was truly marvelous today. I could squeeze her to mulch. I am so proud of her. I am so excited for her too. This is the beginning of a beautiful love affair for her. I can hardly contain myself.
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