Back to School

Rowan (9) and Henry (6) went back to school today.  I thought briefly about taking pictures, but that thought was quickly driven out of my head when Henry went into full meltdown mode this morning.

It’s not that Henry doesn’t like school.  He really does.  He likes the structure, the activities, and the learning.  He loves his teacher, Mrs. A., and the two TAs who work with him the most, Donna and Sharon.  It’s just that he really, really enjoyed summer.

He loved waking up at 8:30 or 9:00, wandering into the dining room for cereal, then settling down to play Minecraft.  He loved lazy summer days spent outside in our backyard, driving trains over tree roots, throwing the ball for our dog, Lili, going to the river, and spontaneous visits to cousins or grandparents.

We’ve been trying to prep him for school the last few weeks.  He has always stubbornly responded with, “NO SCHOOL.”  Yeah, not happening, kid.  The staff at his school have many more tools in their toolbox than I do, to guide and teach through his autism.

So this morning he absolutely refused to wear any of his new clothes, despite them consisting of the same type of t-shirts and sweats he always wears.  I guess with everything else, it was just too much new  and scary.  We compromised at last with just a new t-shirt, and everything else old and familiar.  He’ll get used to them in time, I suppose.

There is a happy ending to this story.  When I picked him up, Sharon said that Henry had a GREAT day, and that his time in the regular first grade classroom [he bounces between the special ed room & the regular class] was “night and day” different from how he started in the regular kindergarten classroom last year.  He also got a candy for practicing safe body techniques all day, so that was great!

As for Rowan, while he wasn’t thrilled about going, he was excited to see his friends again.  He sits across from his friend C. and she offered to introduce him to all the kids he doesn’t know yet!  I got a running and jumping hug when he came out, and he told me that “today was the BEST school day I’ve ever had!”

In conclusion, I think we’re going to survive this year just fine.

Hello Again

Hello again.

I realized, looking on here, that it's been more than a year since I last posted.  I am sorry for that.  There have been many factors, not least of which is my ongoing depression.  I keep telling myself that I need to write, but I just couldn't do it.

Anyway, I'm back, and I'm taking steps to make sure that I'm staying around.

Different book, but still reading!

So, what's new?  I'll tell you.  Rowan, my 9-year-old, has fallen completely in love with Harry Potter.  Rowan, who was never, ever, EW, no WAY, Mom going to read Harry Potter.  Actually, he mainly listens to audio books instead of reading print.  It's easier for him to focus.  We've been listening to audio books by C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Roald Dahl.  Good stuff, yes?  But everything has its saturation point, and although I never thought I'd say this, I found myself begging to please never make me listen to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory again!  Enough!  No more!!






So I convinced Rowan to listen to just the first chapter of Harry Potter, and that was it.  He was hooked.  I made the introduction, and J.K. Rowling did the rest.  He's been binge-listening for the past three weeks.  He's halfway through book 5 now.

Yep, that's the face.

Naturally, this translates into nearly everything else he does as well.  Legos?  He's building broomsticks and having face-offs between the different characters.  Minecraft?  He built a boys' dormitory & girls' dormitory, both of which have a portal to the nether in the back.  Whaaaat?  I didn't think even Hogwarts was THAT unsafe!  He's placed a lot of armor stands around, decorated them with clothing, and named them according to various characters.  So far he has Neville, and Draco Malfoy and his gang.  Rowan, of course, is Harry Potter himself.

Whomping Willow?

He also roleplays at home, and insists that everyone joins in.  I alternate between being Hermione or Mrs Weasley.  Lili, our dog, of course plays Fang.  Henry, age 6, is generally relegated to being Ron, although Henry doesn't know or care, and refuses to follow instructions.  He's a free spirit.

So I apologize, friends, if sometime in the next five years I get tired of Harry Potter.  It's fun right now, but who knows where this obsession will lead!  You may have to save me from it all!

Wild as a summer storm.

Henry continues his search for Narnia.

Ouch! Ouch!

Well, Friday I got to spend the day with a friend I hadn't seen in a long, LONG time.  Years, that is.  The reason wasn't so great--she's having a miscarriage, and her husband was concerned that she would pass out and no one would be around to dial 911.  She has a 4-year-old son, so I took Rowan with me to play.  They had met once before, but when both were much, much younger, so they didn't remember each other.

Both boys hit it off right away.  They set tunes to playing on the electronic piano and danced all around the living room.  They ran outside and looked at the bunnies.  They rode little bikes/car up and down the sidewalk behind the house.  It's rare for Rowan to connect so quickly with another child!

 

 

They grabbed hands and ran around and around in a circle.  R1 (Rowan) is standing; R2 (the other child) has just fallen down in their merriment.

 While the boys played outside, J and I lounged in the grass and enjoyed the sunshine.

Yep, that's my arm, taking up half the picture.

When Matthew was done with work he came over and picked up Rowan.  That's probably a good thing, because when J's husband got home (a few minutes after Matthew got there), the three of us sat down on the porch and chatted until it was quite dark.  It would have been a bit late for Mr Rowan!

When I got home, Henry was asleep on the couch (Thank you, Grandma!) and Rowan was preparing to enjoy popcorn with Daddy.  I suddenly rediscovered that we were completely out of milk, so I offered to make tea for Rowan instead for his bedtime.  I carefully poured the boiling water into a sippy cup (he likes those for bed, so he doesn't spill upstairs) and set it on the table to steep.  Rowan asked for a chapter of The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, so I got the book out and we sat down to enjoy it.

Alas and alack!  Rowan, who has trouble sitting still--particularly when he's very excited, like he is about this book--somehow knocked the cup of tea off the table and onto his leg.  Oh my, the shrieking!  I immediately discarded the book and stripped his pants off so the hot, wet material wouldn't cling to his skin.  Matthew came bounding down the stairs faster than I've seen him move in a long time.  My poor child!  The whole area around his right knee was blistered, and some of his skin has just sloughed right off.  My stomach tried to turn inside out.

I took him upstairs to run cold water on it in the shower.  In retrospect I probably should have used lukewarm, but I was in Get It Cool NOW mode.  Matthew brought up an ice pack and a first aid kit, and Rowan and I snuggled into the armchair.  There was burn cream, thankfully, and Matthew also brought some aloe vera from our plant.  We coated the burn in cream and aloe vera, then bandaged it for the night.

In the morning when I unwrapped his bandage, it was immediately apparent that he needed to be seen.  Thankfully the pediatric clinic he goes to has morning hours on the weekend, and the clinic physicians rotate for those shifts.  His regular doctor, Dr G, was not in, but we got an appointment to see Dr K.  Here's a picture I took when I unwrapped his bandage again at the clinic:

My poor child!  A nurse coated it with a special burn cream and bandaged it up.  Dr K sent a prescription to the pharmacy for more cream.  Rowan felt a lot better after that, and in the car afterward he said this:


"I like Dr G (regular doctor) and Dr K (today's clinic doctor). They're easy to talk to. Maybe when I grow up I can be a doctor and build my own clinic and help people. And then if someone comes in with a burn like mine, I can help them."

It's enough to make a Mama melt!  He was definitely back to his old self, and spent the rest of the day running, jumping, and playing as if nothing had happened.

Henry was very glad to see Mama again, since I'd been gone all day Friday and all morning Saturday.  Mama was pretty happy to be home again, too.  I took both children with me in the double stroller to pick up Rowan's prescription from the pharmacy.  That's right; I put my almost-6-year-old child in a stroller.  It's better than having him walk and complain that he's tired!  We go faster, too!

Well, that was my weekend; so far, anyway.  How was yours? 

Leaps and Bounds!

My children are growing faster than I can keep up.  It seems like every time I turn around, they're stronger, taller, and more capable.  Henry can drink from a regular sippy cup now, and even a plastic tumbler with no lid.  Rowan is reading books with no help from me.  I just keep thinking, Wow!  What happened??

Yesterday we cut Henry's hair.  This is a Big Deal.  Henry is two, stretching for three in November, and for a long, long time he has not let scissors near his hair.  He would quite literally scream and thrash like we were cutting his legs off--even when we tried cutting it in his sleep.  I loved his long hair, but the ends were poking his eyes and obviously making him very uncomfortable, so we knew it was time.  Matthew held the sobbing Henry down while I sheared.

It was brutal, thankless work.  I held him and snuggled when it was done, and he clung to me.  I put him in the shower to rinse away the loose hairs and he sobbed some more.  Dried and dressed, I took him downstairs for chocolate, a cup of milk, a blanket, and Mickey Mouse.  That seemed to do the trick.  It's difficult to cry with chocolate in your mouth.  Sadly, I had to leave ten minutes later and head for Salem.  My good friend/almost sister/godmother to my children Savanna took care of Henry for the evening.

When I got home around 7:30 Savanna was rocking Henry, who hovered on the brink of sleep.  I left them to it, and soon Savanna joined me downstairs, having laid a sleeping Henry on my bed.  We put on a movie and I snuggled with Rowan, who fell asleep within forty minutes.  Hurray!

Today my boys have been wild and silly, running and jumping and playing.  Rowan helped Grandma Carol pick a cucumber from the garden for dinner.  Rowan and Henry have chased each other all over the house, giggling madly.  I took advantage of them playing upstairs this afternoon to crash for a short while on my bed.  I've been living on Benadryl the last several weeks and my eyes don't always want to stay open.

They both ate dinner around 6:00.  Let me reiterate so you really understand:  They ate dinner.  As in, the planned menu, not a PBJ fixed up last-minute.  This almost never happens.  Well, that is, Rowan usually eats a smidget of the menu, then frequently asks for a poached egg in addition "for protein."  He won't touch anything with tomato sauce, including pizza and spaghetti.  Henry also shies away from tomato sauce. 

Tonight, though, we had leftover "fajita macaroni," as Carol called it.  Essentially it's macaroni, tomatoes/tomato sauce, ground beef, and veggies.  For Henry, who has recently become a fruitarian (with exceptions made for all starchy foods), this meal could have been pulled straight from Things I Won't Touch Ever.  Rowan asked what it was and I said, "Noodles with meat, and we'll put cheese on top."  He was satisfied, and he actually ate nearly all that was on his plate.  Ha ha!

Henry resisted.  I put a plate of food on his high chair tray; he ignored it.  Then he tried to dump it quietly.  I put it back.  He sat there for a long, long time, eating nothing.  Finally he reached out and tentatively picked up a noodle.  He examined it closely, flicking off anything that looked suspicious.  (This included the shredded cheese.)  He took a bite.  I won't say he gained any enthusiasm for the dish, but he ate it.  He ate.  I am thrilled!

Upstairs again, I decided to continue the furniture rearranging I've been working on for the last two months or so.  Things get done slowly around here.  I was busily vacuuming a patch of carpet that hadn't seen the light of day in years when Rowan called out, "Mommy, look at me!"  I looked up and there was my 5-year-old child, feet and hands braced on either side of the frame, perched at the top of the doorway to my bedroom.

I don't know why I was so surprised; I did the same thing as a child.  Maybe it's just that he's so young.  Anyway, he was clearly very pleased with himself.  "Rowan, where did you learn how to do that?" I asked.  "I've always known how to do this," he replied in a lofty voice.  "Always, huh?" I asked.  He replied, "Mommy, I've known how to do this since before you were born."  I laughed and congratulated him, and he announced his intention to climb from there to the loft.

Maybe I should explain.  Upstairs there are two good-sized bedrooms and a bathroom.  The bedrooms each have a large loft, but there is only one ladder, which is kept in the boys' bedroom.  We haven't been in our own loft in quite some time, and it's rather dusty and cobwebby.  I really, really don't relish the idea of my small child going up there.  But I can't tell him not to strive, not to accomplish!  I told him he could try, but I hoped he was too short.

He hadn't made it by bath time, which lessened my anxiety considerably.  Henry tried desperately to copy Rowan, putting his little hands and feet on one side of the frame.  He did manage to pull himself up one pace, but I think (I hope!) it'll be a few years before he's scaling it.  In the short space of time that it took me to hang up Rowan's towel after his bath, however, he had managed to get his chest over the top of the door.  I took hold of his legs and told him firmly that he was not allowed to climb naked.

We went downstairs and had snacks, then the two boys raced back up the stairs.  By the time I made it up, Rowan sat waving at me from atop my bedroom door.  I told him to come down, and promised that he could try to climb to the loft in the morning.  Oh, help!  I don't think Matthew will be too pleased with me!

Well, I always have said that Rowan reminds me of my brother Ken....