The Po Show

And That's a Wrap

Well slap my ass and call me Charlie, I did it! I actually made it through NaBloPoMo!! I was doing it for no one but myself, since I'm not "officially" registered with the site (or whatever one does to be universally recognized as a member of this whole deal), but I'm pretty stoked that I pulled it off.

It was actually fun, and an interesting exercise in self-discipline. There are not many things I do everyday that don't involve fetching meals and snacks for my kids, shopping, or showering. It was a mental task to keep "Gotta blog!!" up in the accessible reaches of my subconscious, each and every day.

Last month I talked about myself as a writer, then I spent each day of this month writing, if only a little (okay, I phoned it in a bit during the last week, but mostly I really did try and write something of substance each day!). I've given thought to myself as myself, different aspects of which I don't always give much thought. I often spend most of my time thinking of myself as a mother, particularly as a mother to the specific children I gave birth to, but this month I looked a little more at who I am beyond that. I'm Asian American, I'm a woman growing older (with a body in revolt, and it's pretty revolting), I'm a person who loves art and history and the big marble buildings in our nation's capital.

I was telling my mother on the phone about all the weight I've put on, and she said it didn't surprise her, because she always thought that I look like my aunt Yuko, who gained a lot of weight as she got older. How odd to hear that I take after an aunt I've only seen a handful of times in my life. She lives in Japan, along with all of my father's siblings who are still alive, and their many children and grandchildren. The last time I saw her, when she and my uncles flew to CA for my father's funeral, I did see a resemblance (I was still very thin then, this being 14 years ago). As we sat next to each other at the airport, as they were preparing to leave, I told her in my very halting Japanese that I was sorry that I couldn't speak Japanese well enough to talk to her. It was okay, she told me (I understand the language much better than I speak it), the feeling was there. I knew just what she meant, that we were linked by feeling, by family. We were a part of each other.

I'm still thinking about the parts of me that have gotten short shift in the last several years, as mommyhood has taken up all my time and energy. This month helped with that. I'll keep pondering, and writing, in the days and months and years to come. Do we ever completely figure ourselves out? I don't think so, but I'm going to keep trying.

Nutcracker Sweet

I went with Tessa's class on a field trip to see The Nutcracker at our nearby state university this morning. I admire the ambition of the teachers at school SO much, that they would endeavor to take every first grader, four classes worth, to the THEE-AH-TAH. It was quite a production, both on and off stage.

As Nutcrackers go, it was okay. The principals were all from the university's dance corps, and of varying levels of talent. Some were very good. The kids were all from the community (over 150 kids involved!) and they were mostly bumbling and adorable. They introduced some of the kids during intermission, including little four year old mice. Other kids were on stage to give a shout out to their schools, all of whom were in attendance. One of the little Blue Cavaliers was a little girl from our school, who had Tessa's teacher last year.

Our kids were amazingly good, if a bit fidgety late in the second act. Tessa felt a little overwhelmed before the show even began, due to the crowd noise. She's still very sensitive to noise. But she enjoyed most of the show, though by the end she kept leaning in to tell me, "This is longer than I had expected." I think the dad sitting in front of me felt the same way, judging by his own fidgeting. But all in all I think it was a wonderful experience for the kids, and I'm glad I got to come along.

It still blows me away, all the wonderful field trips they give the kids at our school. It's a level of enrichment that I think we're fortunate to have. And that's pretty sweet.

Salad Days

I went to school to volunteer to help with the salad bar today. I'm terrible about volunteering for stuff, so I was actually sort of glad when one of the moms (you know, those moms who always organize events and things at school) called me on Monday night and asked if I could fill in.

Every Wed. there's a salad bar as a choice in the cafeteria. It has to be manned (or womanned, such as the case may be), since the kids really can't be allowed to fill their own plates. Naturally they'd load it up and not eat it all. So parent volunteers come in to dish the items up for them.

I found it educational. I found that the little kids eat almost nothing but fruit (no veggies other than carrots), but they'll eat tuna salad or hard boiled eggs. The older kids (almost all girls) will eat the green salad and even veggies like red bell pepper. But almost nobody would eat kiwi, and not one single kid I helped wanted black olives.

My kids got a kick out of seeing me there in the cafeteria, I think. I was a little afraid Matthew would be weirded out by my being there (out of the routine), but he smiled and waved repeatedly. Tessa kept waving at me throughout her lunch period. She also TALKED AND TALKED AND TALKED throughout lunch, which explains pretty well why she often "doesn't have time" to finish her lunch. She was literally the last kid to get her jacket on and get into line when it was time for her group to go out to recess, because she'd been TALKING so much. Oy.

Matthew sat by himself at lunch. There were other kids at his table, but they sat around him with sort of a bubble of space surrounding him. I've asked repeatedly this year whom he's sitting with at lunch, and he always says by himself, in the same place, when he can, meaning that is his first preference. He got in an altercation with a kid who sat in "his" seat and tried to take it back when Matthew moved there while the kid was getting his hot lunch. I saw for myself that he really does not want to sit with anyone at lunch. Normally I'd find this upsetting, but frankly I think he needs some time, after being in class all morning, to retreat into his own head and work through the stress of trying to deal with other kids.

My kids eat the same lunch every single day (gogurt, apple, and lemonade for Matthew; tofu, juice box, and goldfish or dried strawberries for Tessa). It's kind of amazing for me to see that other kids actually choose what they want, from a variety of choices. Salad days indeed.

(And here's the reason the title of this post is so amusing, at least to myself. My favorite all time movie is "Raising Arizona." Ross and I know every single line of the movie, and employ them on at least a weekly, if not daily, basis. Nicholas Cage has a line that goes: "Our love for each other was stronger than ever, but I premonished no return to the salad days." As soon as I found out I was to help out with the salad bar, I kept thinking "salad days." I told Ross I was helping out with the salad bar, and he immediately said, "salad days." I love that man.)

Speaking of Flower Drum Song...

During my sophomore year at UC Santa Cruz, I took a course called "Asian American Women" (nothing more fun than studying yourself!). At the end of class one day, the instructor mentioned that we'd be watching "Flower Drum Song" during the next class.

"Oh!," I gushed, "I LOVE that movie!!"

She was utterly appalled. (She was also utterly appalled the day I told her that her new haircut was "cute." Yes, MaryAnn Kim, Ph.D., really needed to lighten up a bit.) We were watching the movie to analyze "Madonna/whore" stereotypes of Asian women in the media, but for me the movie conjured up nice memories of fun songs and James Shigeta when he was young and hot. Most of all, it was a musical (and a movie) *that was about, and starring, Asians*. Or Orientals as they were still called back then in the late '60s, but whatever. Sure, it's chock full of really deplorable stereotypes, but the Asians were the story, not relegated to some bit role in the background, some "friend" part. The one Asian in the group, a token, an afterthought.

You see, the whole time I was growing up, I wanted to be an actress. When I was a little girl, if someone asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always, immediately said an actress. Then they'd smile and chuckle indulgently and say something like "Ah, I guess that's every little girl's dream." That really ticked me off, because I was dead serious, despite the dearth of Asian women in TV and the movies (there was Mrs. Livingston on "The Courtship of Eddie's Father" (did you REALIZE that she was in the starring role in "Flower Drum Song"???), and there were random bit part mafia molls and such on "Hawaii 5-0." And that was about it.) Later, there was Kelly on "M*A*S*H. And that was about it.

When I was in junior high, I started doing community theater, which probably saved my life, later on in high school. I loved it, and I felt incredibly accepted and appreciated as talented. But there was the snag of finding shows that I could do. I mostly found myself in musicals (what a revelation for a klutz like me to suddenly find myself *dancing*!), where there was more wiggle room. I played Liat in "South Pacific," not once, but twice. I did "Stop the World, I Want to Get Off" (clown makeup). I did "Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat" (the chorus is a big mishmash anyway). I did original dance dramas, in which the directors didn't care what I looked like.

But I was waiting for "Flower Drum Song." I was waiting for a chance to be the star, and it just didn't come. And I knew it wouldn't, so I gave up on the dream of acting. Because I knew that it was hard enough if you were white and could play any European-descended person, let alone if you looked like I did. I knew I wouldn't starve well, and I knew that I really belonged in college, nerd girl that I was. Asians are in now, and Lucy Liu got to be a Charlie's Angel, but that was not the case then. I know I made the right decision.

And I will regret that I never got the chance, for the rest of my life.

Add It to the List

Add this to the list of 1,000,000,000 things for which my children should be grateful to me, but won't ever be:

that I have a menstrual cycle. Because without it, they wouldn't have gotten to be, you know, born.

Because lemme tell you, after all horrific ick I went through today, I'm not enjoyin' being a girl (for you "Flower Drum Song" fans).

Whew

Note to self: never ever ever ever ever try and go on a weekend driving trip over Thanksgiving weekend. It took us almost 8 hours to get home. The kids were generally good about the whole thing (better than I would have expected), but the last hour and a half was pretty harrowing. They're still up now, 40 minutes past bedtime, because I promised them they could stay up late since they'd missed out on the play time they'd anticipated having after we got home. Tomorrow's going to be ugly.

But despite the return home, it was a wonderful trip. Yesterday we started off early in the morning at Eastern Market, walked down North Carolina past our old house (I called it the "Mommy and Daddy Used to Live Here Tour"), then down to the Capitol. We walked around there, then to the National Gallery (we did both buildings!). Matthew got really bored and tired, but Tessa was SO into it, excitedly recognizing a Jackson Pollack and a Piet Mondrian, thrilled by the room full of Calders, delighted by a Lichtenstein. Then we went through the Impressionists and she went around the rooms, admiring the paintings and reading ALL the titles aloud. They dragged a bit through the 17th century Italians and Dutch paintings, so we headed out. We fought our way through the crowds to have lunch at the Natural History (deciding it was way too crowded to look around), then headed outside again. We walked down to the Washington Monument (they were SOOOO impressed!), then hoofed it all the way to the Lincoln Memorial. I choked up talking about how hundreds of thousands of people lined up along the reflecting pool as Dr. Martin Luther King made his "I Have a Dream" speech, hoping Matthew could visualize it all before him. He wanted me to take a picture of the Lincoln statue, without Tessa and him in it, to capture the statue by itself.

I gotta admit, I was pleasantly surprised at how well they did on the walk, which was over 4 miles long. They usually aren't terribly good walkers, but they did great. We hopped in a cab, decompressed at the hotel for awhile, then took the Metro to Union Station for dinner. They were so impressed that there was this huge mall in a train station :)!

This morning we left the hotel (I still can't believe I got us a room at the Westin right on Dupont Circle, with free breakfasts, for $79 a night) and went to Trader Joe's. In D.C., TJ's has wine, unlike our poor TJ's here. Then back to the Mall, where we walked around the Castle, and then to the Natural History. I think it was the high point for Matthew, even more than the Air and Space, which was so surprising to me. He was so entranced by the Hope Diamond, and the whole gems and minerals section (we've been through the gems and minerals exhibits a million times at the Museum of Natural History here in NY, but he just loved it). Then the big surprise: he was totally fascinated by the African Cultures section, and he sat through the whole film on slavery. This is the child who gets anxious and overwrought by the slightest mention of conflict on TV shows, but he sat through the whole film.

As we got into the car to leave, Matthew said, "This was an enjoyable trip!," which of course made it all worthwhile. Tessa concurred that it was a great trip, except for the fact that she didn't get to keep her "panda ticket" (her Metro card, which had a picture of pandas on it, that didn't come back out at the exit because the money had been exhausted on it). Well, I guess nothing is perfect :).

Now I'm drinking my glass of $4.99 Trader Joe's cabernet, and feeling glad to be home.

Good Morning

I'm posting now just in case I forget later, after a full day of doing the tourist thing. Plus, I think we only get 24 hours of connectivity, which started yesterday, so it may expire before I have a chance to jump on here again.

We really only bought the connection so that I could post here! The things we do for NaBoPoMo!!

(Hey, I feel like I got through the whole month without a "fluff" post, so surely I deserve a gimme here.)

Dang Chris

Sorry, that title is an inside joke between the Ro and me.

Greetings from our nation's capital. We are here for a holiday weekend vacation. I've always wanted to bring the kids here, to see all the Smithsonian museums and the mall and all the other sights.

Whew, what a day. We woke up at the crack of dawn, went Black Friday shopping (I bought a TON of Gymboree!!), then hopped in the car and drove 5 hours (including stops). We went straight to the Air and Space Museum (I have been waiting to take Matthew there basically all of his life), and the kids loved it. The National Museum of American History (my all time favorite) is closed for renovation, but they've set up a small collection of some of the most iconic items at the Air and Space. I almost had us skip it when I saw the line, but we went in and I was SO glad. They totally dug seeing Lincoln's top hat and Dorothy's ruby slippers and R2D2 and C3PO.

Another full day tomorrow!

Thankful

I can't even begin to enumerate all the reasons I am thankful today. But top of the list would be that I have a son who was able to look at me and Ross with absolute love in his eyes and tell us that he was thankful for the two of us. Tied with that would be that I have a daughter who wrote a two foot, turkey-shaped essay entitled "I Am Thankful," which was pure poetry.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.

Cream Me

So I finally got to see an OB/GYN. She was very nice, very pleasant, and very straight-forward. I love this medical group (the first time I've gone to OB/GYN there). I waited a total of three minutes in the waiting room, and no time whatsoever in the "little room" after I donned my elegant maroon gown (opening in the front) and paper lap drape.

She gave me a bunch of info on PMS/PMDD (which I had already read), and called a pharmacist to compound some progesterone cream for me. This will be sent directly to my house. I'm to use it for a couple of months and if I don't start feeling better (as in, less yelling at people and crying at movies that aren't really tearjerkers), I'm to call or email her and let her know. Sound good, I guess. I was kind of hoping for something more aggressive right off the bat, but I understand the desire to start out lower-intervention.

And I'm scheduled for a mammogram next month, my very first. Sigh, I'll bet you never forget your first mammogram. I'm just wondering how the tech will be able to get ahold of enough boob to get a good picture. (Sorry, TMI??)

Things in my Shopping Basket

So this is what I bought at Costco today:

*a Butterball turkey (16 pounds, the smallest I could find. I was just going to get a small turkey at Trader Joe's, but they were $1.69 a pound and the smallest was around 14 pounds and there was no way in HELL I was going to pay $22 for a turkey. What happened to grocery stores giving away turkeys? My mother was saying that her grocery store didn't give them away anymore, but was charging $4.00 for each turkey. Yet another reason that CA is better)

*a big ass pumpkin pie

*red grapes (I still can't believe that a 4 pound thing of grapes costs $2 more than the big ass pie! And no where is cheaper for grapes than Costco, which is why I go there every single week. Matthew goes through 8 pounds of grapes a week)

*poultry gravy mix (industrial size)

*a 2-pack of Liquid Plumber

I have never in my life gone to Costco and only purchased 5 items, even though I go every week. It felt strange.

I drive to Costco, the grocery store, Trader Joe's, and Target every single week (usually multiple times to the grocery store and TJ's in a week). Isn't that a waste of gasoline? Isn't it a slightly insane waste of my time? Why do I give in to the notion that I must go to *this* store for *these* items, rather than finding comparable items at one store?

I think it's because I feel like this is my job, shopping for all the stuff my family wants. I want to do it well. If I had a "real" job, I could channel that energy into doing it well, but for now, this is all I've got.

Plus I'm sort of a sap (okay, I'm TOTALLY a sap) and am way too willing to get *this brand of this* and *that brand of that*, which requires multiple stops. Again, I written it into my own job description, and feel unable to displease my supervisors.

Frozen Water Falling from the Sky

It's snowing! In a very minor fashion, but it's snowing nonetheless! Nothing is sticking to the ground, but the flakes keep falling, intermittently.

I noticed it this morning soon after we got up. Beside myself with excitement, I ran back into the living room and opened all the blinds. "What? What is it??," the kids asked. "It's SNOWING!," I said.

They were excited for about five seconds, then went on back to their business. A bit later, as I watched, rapt, Tessa got a bit excited again and stood by the window herself, humming and tapping out "Jingle Bells" on the glass.

I just want to sit by the window and watch the snow fall in its little bitty shower of flakes. Remember, I'm a SoCal girl, and I still can't get over the fact that snow actually FALLS from the sky!

Three Days and Counting

Okay, it's three days until my gynecological appointment. The one I've been waiting for since Sept. The one that replaces the one that I made for last June, that I had to cancel when it occurred to me that my kids had a half day that day, so there was no way I could make a 12:45 appointment.

The one I obviously desperately need, after I just SOBBED uncontrollably through the movie The Squid and the Whale, with Laura Linney and Jeff Daniels. It is not NORMAL to sob uncontrollably through movies. It's the last week of my cycle. You do the math.

Sitting with Santa

One of the standard "precious childhood moments" for many parents is getting their kids' picture taken with Santa (duly noted, TC, before you even say anything ;-)...). I did not have any pictures of my children with Santa. When Matthew was little, he screamed at most strangers, let alone a stranger with a big beard and glasses, so we didn't even try. When he was a little older, we would sit near the Santa area, to see if he would be willing to try a visit. Once, when he was 3, we sat and watched other children visiting Santa for about 40 minutes, before he finally decided he just couldn't do it.

I didn't really try with Tessa when she was little, since I knew Matthew wouldn't go along (I still had some sense that if we had a picture with Santa, it should be with both children). Then she got older, and I asked if she'd sit with Santa by herself, and the answer was always no.

I didn't push, and it really didn't bother me (I have plenty of other things to be traumatized about, without worrying about not having a picture of my kids with Santa). But today I actually got my picture. Tessa was more than happy to visit Santa, was quite thrilled in fact. She wouldn't tell him what she wanted for Christmas (we have a fairly cheap-ass Santa, not the kind who brings kids Nintendo DSs or Wiis :D), but she was pretty relaxed and took a lovely picture.

Sure, it's WAY early for the mall to have Santa already (he's been there for almost 2 weeks, actually! What happened to waiting till after Thanksgiving?), but there were no lines, and I can check this precious childhood moment off my list.

To Be Me

After one of Matthew's particularly bad days at school last month, his therapist showed him a book she had, entitled To Be Me. It's about a 10 year old boy in the fourth grade, who has Asperger's. He talks about how he loves race cars (often all he can think and talk about are race cars), and how he often has a really hard time with the kids at school. Once, he says, a girl didn't want to be partnered with him. "I don't want to be partners with him," the girl said. "He's so weird." Then one day the boy puts together a presentation for his class, explaining to them what Asperger's Syndrome is (in very simple terms). They all begin to understand him better, and he's much happier.

Matthew was very enthusiastic about the book, and the idea of telling his class about Asperger's. But he was very hesitant about how to go about that. I ordered our own copy of the book, and we told the school psychologist about it.

At our school, they've implemented a positive discipline system called PAWS (Practice respect - Accept responsibility - Work together - Safety matters). Each time a child is "caught doing the right thing," they are given a bookmark sized certificate. These PAWS can be turned in for rewards, but not the typical plastic crap kids usually get for these types of things. They can choose privileges like "wear your slippers to school," "say the Pledge of Allegiance over the PA," "lead the Halloween parade," etc. Matthew got 10 PAWS, and chose (after a lot of deliberation and help from the school psych.) "choose a story to be read in class." He decided that he wanted the To Be Me book to be his choice.

Prior to this, his teacher had heard about the book from the school psych., and he purchased his own copy (which was amazing of him, since it was $30). When Matthew chose his PAWS reward, he wanted to tell Mr. Fried about his plan, but he was nervous about it, so he had a "meeting" with him and the school psych. With a bit of help, he said there was a book he wanted to have read to the class, and he shared the title. Mr. Fried reached into his bag and pulled it out. Matthew was SO surprised and pleased and Mr. Fried told him, "Oh, this is my FAVORITE book!" Matthew said that he was still nervous about sharing the book with the class, and having them know he had Asperger's, so they told him that it was completely up to him, that they could do it whenever he was ready.

That was a few weeks ago. Today I got a call from the school psych., who said, "I have some good news!" I told her I'm always up for good news :), and she said that this morning Matthew had chosen to have the book read. She decided that she didn't want to make him additionally nervous by showing up, but she heard about it afterwards from Matthew and Mr. Fried, who said the kids were very attentive. You could have heard a pin drop, it seems.

Then after the reading, a boy named Jack raised his hand and said, "Matthew, if I ever teased you, I'm really sorry." Several other kids also told him they were sorry, and he said, "That's okay."

Matthew then went down to the school psych. to tell her all about it. She said he was just glowing, he was so happy. She said she cried, she was so happy for him. He said that he wanted to have the book read to his class every year, and she thought that was an excellent idea. She told him that since he was in inclusion, there would probably be other kids in his future classes who had some learning differences, so they would probably welcome having this explained to the class, that it was okay to be different. "Absolutely!," Matthew enthused.

I had to pick Matthew up early from school because he had a really bad stomachache (probably the combination of all the excitement of the morning, and all the garlic bread he ate last night giving him a gas attack). Mr. Fried brought him down to the office and told me that the reading had been "tremendous." He said he was so proud of Matthew and that it had by far been the BEST thing that has happened (for himself, not just Matthew) all year. He said he would see that the book was read to all the fourth grade classes, and that all the teachers at school had a look at it. He is absolutely incredible; there are no words to describe how grateful I am to him.

It's a wild ride, the roller coaster that is our lives, but it felt great to be up one of the peaks.

Well, Duh

The more I read about dyslexia, the more OBVIOUS it is to me that the criteria totally fit Matthew. It's one of those revelation/oh shit moments, with the revelation being "THIS is what's been wrong!" and the oh shit being "And we haven't been doing anything about it!"

Last year, at the beginning of third grade, I was pretty fired up to get him assessed for dyslexia, since he still was not reading. I mentioned it to everyone, and they said they'd observe him and see if they thought that it was warranted. Then, abruptly, I mean like in two WEEKS of his special reading group with the inclusion teacher, he was suddenly reading at grade level. I was shocked, and so pleased, and I dropped the whole dyslexia issue. It was such a joy to see him reading, and enjoying reading for the first time, that I didn't look further. And neither did anyone else, which now bewilders me a bit.

But OMG, the whole inability to decode, the utter opacity of letter sounds, the fact that he CANNOT memorize his times tables no matter how many times we go over them, it's all pointing straight in the direction of dyslexia. It's so weird to me, because he had incredible auditory memory as a toddler (he was one of those toddlers who'd memorize a 500 word book and "read" it back verbatim). Everyone in daycare said he'd be an early reader. And he was not. I didn't worry about it a bit, even into second grade, because I kept telling myself that kids learn to read at different rates. Now I realize I should have been looking more at the big picture, seeing the connection to the Asperger's, seeing his difficulty in organizing his thoughts when he spoke, his difficulty in understanding what others were saying to him.

So yeah, I'll be pushing hard at his program review on the 30th, for them to DO something about this. He needs some appropriate accommodations to address this. Expecting him to prepare for the ELA test in the same way as the other kids is just bullshit.

Ugh, I'm tired :(.

Fourth Grade Morning

I was so afraid, yesterday, that today I would be writing the post that I am about to write. I've been afraid for years, since Tessa started nursery school, that my children's school years were going to be a continuous Tale of Two Conferences. That my view of Tessa's school life would be a constant delight, while Matthew's was a source of constant worry.

Today his class was preparing for the ELA state tests in January, and they were doing a listening exercise. They listened to the teacher read a story aloud, and they were to take notes that would enable them to answer questions later on. Each had a sheet to write down the major characters, events, plot points, and resolution of the story.

There was no way in hell Matthew could do this. He can't write. He simply can't. He has no idea how to spell, and he won't just try to put things down phonetically. Because for him there is no such thing as phonetically. His aide was next to him, but he was too overwhelmed to even try to put down a single word. His pencil never touched the paper. He just sat and looked distraught, or stared off into space. If the teacher or his aide would try to help him, his eyes welled up and he started to cry. If someone said to him, "It's okay," he'd shout "No, it's not!" I mouthed "It's okay" to him once, when he looked over at me, but after his outburst I refrained from doing so again. He was right. It wasn't okay.

Then the kids were given another sheet, and were told to start writing a short story about someone helping someone else (which had been the theme of the listening exercise story). Matthew's aide tried to help him brainstorm an idea for a story, but he was just too far gone to try. He sat sideways in his seat and faced away from the table. No one pushed him, and he didn't really lose control of himself, but it was awful to watch nonetheless.

He looked over at me several times over the course of the hour I was there, and at first they were wary looks. It was out of the routine for me to be there. But he had been really happy when I came for the classroom visit last year. As the hour progressed, every time he looked at me, his face would fall into a scowl, like it was my own personal fault that he was suffering. I just sat there, trying to maintain an encouraging look on my face, and wondered over and over what the hell we should do.

His teacher is really wonderful, very funny and enthusiastic. A couple of times he glanced over at Matthew as he was vocalizing his distress and he'd say simply, "Relax," and Matthew actually visibly unclenched a bit. I really think that if he'd had this teacher last year, a lot of the behavioral problems we had, and are still dealing with now, wouldn't have arisen. But now that Mr. Fried has inherited the problems, he's working hard to help. He spoke to me briefly outside the class as the parents were leaving, telling me that it's really only the writing element of ELA that Matthew is having trouble with. Reading and comprehension are fine, he can answer all the multiple choice stuff perfectly, but the writing isn't coming. I knew all this of course. But he was SO upbeat, saying that we would sit down and work it out, and he promised me that things would get better.

In 2 weeks we have a program review with all of the team, plus people from the district special ed. It was convened by the school psych., who put in a request for Matthew's aide time to be increased to full time. Naturally that would be great, but it's painfully obvious that a lot more needs to be discussed. Something needs to be done to help him, because of course this is impacting other parts of his ability to learn as well.

I'm reminded of when he was 3, in daycare. Lunch was served family style at our (wonderful) daycare, and for two years Matthew ate nothing but fruit for lunch. At one point, though, the teachers decided that it wasn't really fair that all the other kids were required to try the different foods, but Matthew was not, so they started telling him he had to just try one other type of food everyday. This was so horrible for him that it completely affected his behavior before and after lunch. He would get so anxious prior to lunch, causing all kinds of behavioral problems, and after lunch he would still be so wound up that he couldn't function.

I am really afraid that writing has become this year's lunch.

First Grade Afternoon

As part of National Education Week, teachers at our school invite parents in to see their children's classrooms in action. Today I went to Tessa's class for math period.

It was so remarkable. Mrs. Andrade is so incredibly enthusiastic and innovative and just really, really cool. She doesn't dumb things down at ALL to these six year olds, some of whom do not have the strongest English language skills. I can see she has high expectations, and the kids really rose to the occasion.

They were studying Geometry, and they called it that. They looked at similarities and differences between and among shapes, talked about shapes such as a rhombus, trapezoid, and hexagon, and she talked about "collecting data to help you determine your answer." What perfect language for my child, daughter of a stat geek social scientist!

Tessa was so happy to have me there. She actually gave an excited gasp when I walked in the door. She kept glancing over at me, waving, and beaming. She made no effort to show off for me, but she was always quick to raise her hand for every question. It was so gratifying to see her in this wonderful classroom environment.

After an hour, they cleaned up their "Power Polygons" and got ready to leave for specials. Half, including Tessa, were off to computer lab, while the others were off to the Nature Center (a room with hamsters, guinea pigs, a tortoise, bunnies, a parrot, fish, and mice, with a full time staff member to teach the kids all kinds of wonderful things about animals).

A wonderful afternoon with the first grade!

Jersey Boys (and Girls)

We went to Paramus, NJ today. Since it was a holiday, we had the kids' holiday pictures taken. Ross was kind enough to take the day off so he could go with us (he had to burn one day off anyway, before he lost it at the end of the year). I always try to have their yearly portraits done in early November, before the mad rush at Picture People. I learned the hard way, in Matthew's first year, that things get ugly at discount portrait studios right before the holidays.

The Picture People in the mall five minutes from my house closed, as did the one in the mall right across the river. So the closest one to us is now in Paramus, in New Jersey.

New Jersey seems soooo far away. It is another state, after all (though so is Connecticut, and that's about 8 miles away from us). It seems, different. It's the land of the Sopranos, and Bruce Springsteen (who actually came on the radio soon after we crossed the border).

In actuality, it's like 20 miles away. And gas is really cheap there. And Paramus (28 miles from White Plains) has a lot of malls, plus Ikea and Campmor. So why have we only been there once in the 3 and a half years since we've moved here? Well, first of all, everything in Paramus is closed on Sunday, which is the day we usually go out and do things. And it's in NJ, which seems very far away, though it is not.

But today we were hanging with the Jersey boys and girls, spending seemingly never-ending time, waiting to take portraits. We got there early, fed the kids a snack, then were told that one of their cameras wasn't working so they were running behind. 45 minutes after our appointment time, we got in. Every year I say I'll never take them for portraits again, and every year we go. It's one of my ideas of hell, jumping up and down and making stupid faces and begging my children to look at the camera and smile. This year's results were far less attractive than last year's, but they've taken worse. I was reasonably satisfied, and emotionally exhausted. We kept going, though, and wandered all the way through Ikea, looking for a desk and cabinet for Matthew. I'd forgotten how cavernous Ikea is. We used to practically live at the one in Carson, back in CA, but it's no longer in our regular stops.

So that was my view of New Jersey, as seen through shopping. There are worse prisms.

Welcome to Our World of Toys

FAO Schwarz used to have a big clock in the front of its store (I'm talking about the flagship store across from the Plaza Hotel, though I know they had smaller versions of the clock in all their stores), that played this incredibly insipid song:

"There's a clock tick-tock
where the children play.
And the (something something) takes our cares away.
(Something something something something something...)
Welcome to our world of toys!
Welcome to our world
Welcome to our world
Welcome to our world of toys!
Welcome to our world
Welcome to our world
Welcome to--our world--of--TOYS!!!"

Lather, rinse, repeat, ad nauseum. It was amazing to me that the employees didn't snap and start beating passersby with Madame Alexander dolls.

I was SHOCKED when we were at the Westchester Medical Center's Children's Hospital (for Tessa's tube surgery and adenoidectomy), and there was a tiny version of the clock (donated by FAO Schwarz....ummmm, thank you?) in the lobby. As we were imprisoned there for 5 hours waiting for her surgery, it was tortuous. Believe me, if there had been some information I could have divulged to make it stop, I would have.

But the clock is gone from the 5th Avenue store now. There was a major renovation last year, and the clock was removed from the main floor. Today it was replaced with a tremendous display of stuffed animals inspired by the Harry Potter books (Leila, you would have FREAKED!), including a huge dragon that cost $5,500. And I mean huge; it was like 10 feet tall.

But I gotta admit, I found myself sort of missing the earworm of "Welcome to our world of toys!"

For the Very First Time

Matthew watched Star Wars for the very first time. We started watching it on Tuesday, and he got a little overwrought, so we stopped, and finished it tonight.

He loved it, as I knew he would. I've tried to get him to watch it with me on a couple of occasions over the years, but he never wanted to. Now he's psyched about the movie, and I've got The Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi on the Tivo, so I'm psyched to take him through the initial trilogy. I've also got Episode I on the Tivo, and I'll look for II and III. (It's strange how I think of the initial trilogy by their original titles, but think of the later "prequels" by their numerical designations. All part of how they were originally presented, I think.)

This is really big for me, for some reason. I loved Star Wars; it was a magical experience for me to see it for the first time. I ended up seeing it 13 times in the theater, which was sort of an accomplishment for an 11 year old, dependent on transportation and on finding friends with money to go to the movies. It changed how I looked at movies, at what I believed they could do. So even though it's laughable now to see the special effects and the '70s haircuts and the Boogie Nights porn mustaches on a lot of the Rebel fighters, I still get such a thrill seeing the original.

I wish Matthew could have seen for the first time on a big screen, the way I did, instead of our stupid 27 inch TV. But I think he'll still remember it, that it was amazing and magical to see it for the first time. And I hope it'll be important for him to remember that when he saw it, it was with his very enthusiastic mom.

Back on the Treadmill

No, this isn't a diatribe about how my life is a never-ending conveyor belt of monotony (though it certainly could have been). It's about getting on my actual treadmill, as in exercise equipment.

I was thinking of crawling back into bed this morning after I dropped off the kids--till I stepped on the scale! I haven't weighed myself in quite a while and it was a major shock. I have not weighed this much, literally, since just before Tessa was BORN. So, I was around 35 weeks pregnant! Ack!! So I got my butt on the treadmill. Well, actually my feet were on the treadmill and my butt came along for the ride.

I've been very delinquent about working out, since I have been so exhausted by Matthew's lack of sleep. Halloween candy has taken a bit of a toll, weight-wise, I guess (while I was really good about only buying types of candy that I personally do not like, Tessa came home with a TON of trick or treats that had nuts in them. She hates nuts. I found it amazing, in this day and age of nut allergies, that SO many people were passing out candy with nuts, including full size Snicker bars and Reese's Peanut Butter cups, which happen to be my favorites.)

It's just WEIRD to me, this added weight. I still can't get used to it, though I've been in my new body shape for a few years now. My entire life I'd eaten whatever the hell I'd wanted to, and had always been really thin. I had two babies and was really thin. I weighed 102 pounds on Tessa's first birthday (okay, I know, this was because I was not eating dairy and not sleeping and had had what used to be quaintly called a nervous breakdown, plus I looked *terrible*, but I was stick thin a year after having a baby!). Then I went on Paxil for 2 years and the weight started piling on, and kept piling on even after I went off drug, steadily and stealthily. Never huge amounts, a pound or two here and there, with lots of ups and downs of no more than that pound or two. But the trend was up, and boy has it upped itself to a level that made me just about fall off the scale.

So, ick, the treadmill. We bought it almost 2 months ago (special deal on Costco.com and free shipping! Plus I more than paid for it by ebaying the kids' fall/winter clothes from last year), and it hasn't been used much. I wanted it, so I would not have an excuse not to walk even when the weather turned cold and nasty. I seem to have dredged up excuses anyway. Bottom line, all my life I have despised exercise and I despise it even more now that it appears to be a necessity.

I really wish there'd been a special treadmill on Costco.com, a magical treadmill that would let me walk back to my old body, the one I probably will never see again.

Brilliant, or Just Bizarre?

Tessa wrote the following on a piece of paper. It has got to be the most cryptic thing I have ever read:

Frogy Apple
Cupol Thuckin
Weding cake
wife grapples
in it.

(For the record, I know it has something to do with the strange new Cartoon Network show "Chowder," but that still does not explain, well, any of it.)

No Surprises Here

I went to meet with the school psychologist this morning to go over the results of Matthew's tri-annual psycho-educational evaluations. (As an aside, here's a sort of funny, sort of pathetic story: Ross was supposed to go to the meeting with me. He cleared his calendar for this morning and planned to go to work late. We talked at length last night about what we were going to discuss. Then the poor automaton woke up at 5:30 and went into work as usual. I called him up when I got up, saying "What happened?" and he was like, "What?").

So the results were pretty much what I expected. Super high scores for analytical, performance stuff, average for reading and computational stuff, and really poor for writing and spelling. The poor child definitely has some kind of processing disorder, and he just can't figure out how to sound words out. The psych. said she'd find a program to help him separate words into sounds, and she plans to tell his teacher and the special ed. teacher that he needs to be using markers and tiles to break down words. He needs to work on keyboarding too. Ambre, if you have any other suggestions for what might help, I'd appreciate it. (His percentile score on the Pseudoword Decoding portion of the TOWL was 2!)

The other not surprising, but sad part was the socio-emotional section. He comes up as At Risk and Clinically Significant for a lot of elements, including depression, interpersonal relations, attitude toward school, social stress, inattention, self-reliance, and personal adjustment. Most of this is through self-report. I know we're doing all the right things, and his therapist is very enthusiastic about his progress, but there is such a long way to go, I'm afraid.

No surprises, but sometimes it's not good to not be surprised.

Election Day

Today is Election Day, and my kids had the day off from school. Never have I heard of a place where kids get Election Day off (though I believe they're just calling it the vague Curriculum Development moniker that gets pinned to seemingly random days off). It was a really "minor" Election Day, in that there are no major elections, just judge confirmations and common council seats.

I did take the kids with me to vote, though, as I do every year. I bring them in the little curtained booth with me, which always intrigues them. They watched me push the little levers, and got their annual civics lesson. I probably wouldn't have even bothered to go vote if they weren't home today, but I want to impart to them the importance of being an involved citizen, and I want them to see some "reason" for why they didn't have to go to school today.

I just can't think of Election Day without thinking of Erection Day. I'm not making a Japanese joke here, though it actually does become one. That whole L/R cliche really does exist, since the comparable Japanese sound is somewhere between those two sounds. So when we lived in Japan, people would cheerfully tell me it was Erection Day. One of my students was clued into it enough to make a deliberate joke, which I found hysterical (despite the inappropriateness).

Anyway, have a Happy Erection Day!

Changing Seasons

Ah, all the signs of the changing of the seasons is upon us!

The aforementioned lovely leaves. Maples, with their flashy reds and golds, give me an honest to goodness thrill. A few years ago I talked about the changing colors with a post entitled "Trees on Fire," but that is just not a good thing to say these days.

Daylight Savings Time, which used to mean an extra hour to party on Saturday night, back in a previous incarnation. Now it means virtually nothing except that it gets really friggin' dark, really friggin' early. It's not like we get to SLEEP an extra hour or anything. I'm reminded of when Matthew was in daycare, when he was two, and how devastated the toddlers got when Daylight Savings kicked in. They waited, as it grew dark outside, and their parents failed to come. They'd huddle by the windows, despite the efforts of the childcare givers to engage them in circle time or happy songs. They were sure, I'm sure, that they'd been abandoned. That's when I realized that children thumb their noses at Daylight Savings.

And last but not least, today marked the arrival of the Sam Adams Seasonal Collection at Costco, which includes my favorite beer, Cranberry Lambic. All the beautiful colors of the season...

I Got My Leaves

We got to go leafing today, and it was beautiful. Just goes to show that sometimes "There's always next weekend" really does come through.

I'd also like to give a shout out to my husband, who, when it was discovered that some little plastic fish that Tessa had stuck into a tissue had accidentally gotten thrown away, went out to retrieve the trash bag from the cans outside, sifted through the disgusting refuse, and found the stupid fish. Just to spare her the trauma of losing her plastic fish. God, he's a good dad.

Weird Dream

I'll share with you the incredibly vivid, warped dream I had last night:

I was sitting at the built-in desk area in our old UCLA Student Housing apartment on Sepulveda, and there was a HUGE ant on the desk. It was about five inches long, with a rough dark brown exoskeleton and highly articulated limbs. It looked vaguely like the bad guy grasshoppers in A Bug's Life, and its face was animated and angry. There were little, normal-sized ants coming out of its skin. I freaked out, captured it in a plastic grocery bag, and ran outside with it.

It started to struggle, and I tried to secure the bag more tightly. Then I whacked it against the concrete several times, till it was still. I didn't want to open the bag to see if it was dead or not; instead I dropped the bag on the ground and ran. I realized that I really shouldn't leave without knowing if I'd killed it, because someone else might find it and get attacked. But I ran anyway.

Then the dream changed, and I was at Disneyland with my family. We were going to split up, because Matthew wanted to go on Splash Mountain and Tessa didn't. Suddenly I realized that I was getting a text message on my phone. Actually there were hundreds of text messages on my phone. I scanned them quickly, and started to panic as I read messages like, "Did you know about telepathy?" and "Why???" I knew instantly that they were from the ant. There were also messages from people with whom the ant was in telepathic contact, who were incensed that I had tried to kill it. "How could you do this??" and "That was a seriously messed up thing to do!"

Then the dream changed again, and I met Jennifer Beals at a very fancy resort in a secluded cove. I knew that she was the ant's sister, but she didn't realize yet that I was the one who had harmed it. We were at a gathering with a bunch of people, and I could tell they were ALL in telepathic contact with the ant, but for some reason none of them knew I was the ant's assailant. I was terrified that they were going to find out, and what they'd do to me when they found out.

Then I woke up.

Yes, that was a seriously fucked up dream. Not as bizarre as the one I had several years ago, when I dreamt that I was sent to heaven to teach the angels how to have sex, but pretty weird nonetheless.

Happy Birthday

Today is my niece Jennifer's birthday. She is 33 years old. It seems impossible to me that I have a niece who is 33 years old. I was 8 years old when she was born, bewildered that my sister (9 days away from turning 18 on the day she became a mother), so recently my playmate and babysitter, was now married with a baby herself.

Jennifer was my parents' first grandchild. Perhaps internally they were worried and fretful that their teenage daughter had a baby to care for, but externally they seemed very glad. She was an absolutely lovely baby. People asked me if I was jealous (why do people have to do that?) and I remember saying, "Yes, a little." I asked my sister if she had been jealous when I was born (she was 10, and had been the baby of the family for a long time). She wryly answered, "No, I think I liked you better than anybody."

When she was around a year old, they started letting me babysit Jennifer at night. My sister and her husband would go out with their friends, and leave me, a 9 year old, with a baby. They wouldn't stay out terribly late; in fact I can't even remember how late, but I can't imagine it was past 9 or so. Jennifer was supposed to be sleeping anyway, though often she would cry. Sometimes I'd pick her up and change her diaper (cloth diapers with big, ducky-shaped diaper pins in those days!) or let her sit with me, but sometimes I'd just ignore her and keep reading. Once my sister came home and the baby was crying and when she carried her out, Jennifer was hiccuping with sobs and saying, "Dink, dink, dink..." over and over. She'd wanted a drink of water. I felt like a total shit. Now of course I am APPALLED that that kind of responsibility was placed in my 9 year old hands.

Today is also my nephew Danny's birthday. He is 24 years old and my brother's oldest boy. He was a miracle baby, conceived after nine years of infertility, a Pergonal baby back in the Dark Ages of reproductive medicine. The day he was born I was nursing a cold and studying for the SAT, which was coming up in a couple of days. I don't think I've ever seen such a look of sheer joy on my father's face as when we got the call that the baby was a boy. He had three grandchildren, including his first grandson (he bought my sister a diamond watch when he was born; she got zip for the first two granddaughters), but this was his heir.

Jennifer turned 9 the day Danny was born. She and my sister came over that evening, and my sister quietly said that Jennifer was feeling a little neglected because the baby had been born on her birthday. My dad made a huge show of sitting next to her and hugging her and giving her big kisses on the cheek, but you could tell she wasn't entirely buying it. I gave her the present I'd bought her, the Borrower series, and she bravely looked them over and commented on the cute illustrations.

I went away to college before Danny turned one, and I never babysat him or his two brothers much. They were the second grouping of my siblings' children, with my sister's three known as "the Kids" and my brother's three known as "the Boys." They were the children of my family, and they grew, and now "the Kids" are the next generation, my nieces' children.

Danny, Jennifer, and I span 17 years. We are markers of my family. I am the last child of my parents, and they are the first children of theirs. Time and birthdays march on.

NaBloPoMo

Just noticed that November is NaBloPoMo. I'm actually STOKED that I noticed, since now I can try and participate right from the beginning of the month. I think I jumped in around the middle of the first week last year. "NaBloPoMo" always kind of throws me off, since it looks a lot like my old AIM screen name: RoPoMo (me being the Po in the middle, between Ross and Matthew :)).

So get ready for 30 fun-filled days of me desperately trying to come up with something to write about! I've never had the kind of blog in which I talk about what I had for breakfast that day, but it might come to that.

Today I actually have something wonderful to write about. The title should be something After-School Special-ish, like "A New Friend." This is yet another example of how the blogsphere brings folks together, people that would otherwise never meet, but were truly meant to meet.

Remember my poor sad "Who will be my friend?" post awhile back? Amongst the lovely comments that people left was a surprising and very exciting one, as Tamar bravely and generously raised her cyber hand and volunteered to be my friend. I've admired Tamar from afar for quite a few years (in a perfectly non-stalkerish fashion, I swear!). We were on a special needs list together back in the days when Matthew had not yet been diagnosed officially, and Ross and I were struggling mightily with trying to get Matthew services at school in Davis. I also read her blogs, which were interesting and beautifully well-written and provided me with glimpses of L.A., which I already sorely missed. She was always so well-informed about special ed. issues, so helpful to anyone who needed advice (including me!). I had intended to ask her for guidance when we finally made it back to L.A. and needed to find the best possible school situation for Matthew.

And today I met her at a cute little restaurant on the upper westside, where we talked and talked and talked, past the point where the wait staff was shooting us dirty looks for sitting at our table for so long. To say we hit it off is an understatement. I don't think I can adequately convey how comfortable I felt and how much fun I had, without spouting some cliche like "I felt like I'd known her for years." Which I did :).

Thank you so much Tamar, for taking the initiative and becoming my friend. (And thanks TC, for being our match-maker, 'cause I know you'll mention it if I don't ;-).)