Tidbits and a hiatus

Just a brief update...

• The dentist went much better than expected. Gus tried to run away from the dentist a couple of times because he was afraid of the electric toothbrush, but once the dentist put that away, he actually did rather well! No cavities and he got his teeth cleaned with fairly little drama. Go Gus!!

• Halloween was, in a word, insane. Gus didn't even eat much in the way of candy. He was just so excited for the day, he was going at warp speed. I couldn't figure out why he was so much more hyper than we expected him to be, but then we discovered that he had chocolate at his school party. The good news is that he was only out of control for a day instead of two like he has been in the past. So he's tolerating it better!

• Finally, I will be posting very little during the next month as I write the sequel to my novel for this year's NaNoWriMo. Last year I wrote a story and one of the characters was loosely based on Gus (hence the pseudonym here). This year's story will feature him more prominently and continue the adventure. Wish me luck - I'm already 6000 words into my 50000 word goal. I will return to posting when the story is complete!

Thanks for reading!!

Homework and Mondays

Some days, I'll admit, I don't cope well. Some days the St. Johns Wort doesn't work as well as others; it's cold and my knees complain every time I have to walk up the stairs; the kids are feeling more ornery or less cooperative than usual...any combination of things can make the day a blessed heaven or a hellish pit of screaming and insanity.

I was pretty harsh on Gus today. I feel crappy about it, so no need to beat me up - I've got that covered. It was one of those bad combinations and it went all wrong pretty quickly.

He's usually pretty tired when he comes home from school so I let him have a snack and chill out a bit before starting homework. Today I made an apple pie just to give the kids something fun for a change instead of just fruit. They seemed to appreciate it. Then we went up and got ready for homework.

Now Mondays are usually tough because I have a schedule to keep. I've got the get homework done, kids bathed, dinner cooked and eaten and then off to work. It is not the best day for the type of homework that Gus despises or for his lovely sister to decide this is the day to torture him. We got a nice sized helping of both.

Spelling words. He had to trace them and then write them twice more. And there will be a test on Friday. Not something I can really blow off. The boy hates to write. The boy was tired. The boy didn't want to hear noise, but the girl wanted to do spelling like her brother. The mommy was about to ram her own head through the wall.

Here's the thing: She needs to learn empathy and to not kick people when they're down so to speak, but at the same time, he needs to learn to cope and that he can't expect the world to shut down when he needs quiet. Usually we make her stop, but why does she always have to be quiet? Why shouldn't she be allowed to sing if she's moved to (so what if she sounds horrid - she's four!) or to spell or laugh or whatever. It's her home too and all she was doing was being a four year old. She has the right to exist in her home too without being scolded for making noise. But of course as soon as I ask her to stop or she hears her brother getting upset over whatever she's doing, she becomes compelled to continue.

So, I lost it - on him. I ordered him to stop the crying and to deal with it. I told him that the world is not a quiet place (and I was being none too quiet about it) and that he had to cope with the noise sometimes. I asked him what he would do when he's in a bigger class and people were talking - would he tell everyone to be quiet? Would he cry every time someone spoke in class? And what about how he talks when other people want quiet - like at three in the morning when we're trying to sleep? Oddly, he actually responded to what I was saying in between crying more. I really suck at being a mom sometimes.

Then there was the added issue of trying to finish the damned homework. Usually his teacher wants me to make him form the letters properly and neatly. I gave up on that. The last couple of words were a mess, but at least he did them. I'll write a note. Once I got a grip on myself (which I did fairly quickly - not quick enough, but it was a short outburst) I decided to cut all our losses and just get through the best way we could. We have all week to learn to spell 'bicycles'.

We're all back on good terms and I'm dragging my creaky knees out into the cold to work. And I'll just have to hope that tomorrow will be a better day.

Independence

It was gently suggested to me that I need to make Gus do more things for himself. I know that I should, but when I try to it usually ends up in frustration, annoyance and all-around negativity for both of us. So perhaps I'm a bad parent for taking the easy way out, but I'm trying to fix it. This is what it sounded like this morning as we were waiting for the school bus:

"Okay, now we have to put on socks and sneakers." I hand Gus his socks. "Put your socks on, please." He holds his socks and starts reading a book. I take the book and tell him he can have it when he's done getting ready.

"Put your socks on." He drops them on the stairs and goes for a sticker book.

"Put your socks on." He places a sticker in his sticker book. I take the sticker book and place it away from him on the table.

"Gus, please put your socks on, then you can have the book." He takes the sticker book back and ignores me.

I guide him back to the stairs and hand him the socks. "Put. Your. Socks. On." He picks up a sock and stares off into space. I greatly desire to slam my head into the wall several times.

This is a truncated version of what we went through for each article of clothing this morning. I can have him dressed and ready for school in 10 minutes. It took us about half an hour. I must have repeated myself at least fifty times.

I will try going back to the schedule posted, but with having him do more things on his own and having to break down each step, that will be a lot of little tags for he schedule board. The school aides readily admitted that it would take a lot of redirection (holy cow, what an understatement) but that he was capable of doing things for himself. I know he is and at six and a half, I should really be making him less dependent on me. The question is, am I capable of keeping my head from slamming through the wall every morning?

Good News and Bad News

The Good News:

We finally got to go on Gus's class trip to the apple orchard. We arrived at the school much too early - an hour and fifteen minutes before the bus was actually leaving - so I left Gus to his usual routine and drove around with MM. He wasn't pleased with that; apparently he cried when he realized I'd gone. But he toughed it out, we returned and then there was a bittersweet little moment. He decided he wanted to ride the bus with his classmates instead of coming in the car with us. What could I say? MM's silent tears in the back of the car until she fell asleep pretty much summed it up for the both of us.

The weather was kind of the most part, but even the few times that it rained, no one cared. The kids were all having a blast in the maze, on the hayride, picking apples and finding pumpkins. Then they spent a good hour playing in the playground after feeding the goats. It was quite a nice time.

We got some of the biggest apples I've ever seen and came home to make a delicious apple crisp, which the kids both helped with. So of course they got special desserts that night. Later today we'll carve up the pumpkins.

The Bad News:

Gus was in the bathroom washing his hands when I noticed he was taking an abnormally long time. So I asked what he was doing. I heard some mumbled response about a cavity and wanting to brush his teeth. I was doing MM's hair, so I sent my husband to check up on what Gus was getting into. It's never a good idea to leave him unattended in a bathroom for long; all of the dislodged towel bars and toilet paper holders can attest to that.

"Umm...I think Gus is getting a tooth," hubby says, completely perplexed.

"How can that be?" I asked, "he hasn't lost any yet." But then excitement won out and I rushed Gus into better lighting. "Oooh! Maybe you're losing a tooth!"

He showed me where a bottom incisor is in fact starting to erupt. But, the baby teeth are as firmly planted as ever. Knowing that this could not possibly be a good thing, I did what I always do: ran to the computer. Apparently, it is possible for the adult tooth to 'miss' the root of the baby tooth; and therefore it grows behind or next to the baby tooth instead of reabsorbing the tooth so the baby tooth can fall out. When this happens, the baby tooth may have to be pulled out to make space.

I want to scream, "why can't this kid ever catch a break???" but I won't because he's had many breaks. I hate to put him in situations where he's going to be in pain and freaked out. He's a brave kid, but how much is he supposed to endure? He already has trouble with simple tooth brushing and hates to have a doctor even peek in his mouth with a flashlight. This is why we've never made him go to the dentist. But there's no help for it now. He'll have to go and now (partly because of my own inability to challenge him) his first experience with the dentist may be a negative one. I'm hoping that I'm wrong and that the tooth will miraculously loosen on its own, but we'll have to see the dentist anyway. Given my most recent freakish encounter with the dentist (he thought I had an extra wisdom tooth, which turned out to be more of a third root on the normal wisdom tooth), I'm not feeling too optimistic.

Just a typical Sunday on the farm.

Literally speaking

Gus can be very literal minded, as can all kids, and sometimes he takes it to the most endearing extent. This was a conversation we had yesterday morning:

It was pretty frosty in the house, and we have no pellets to make a fire, so I tried to tell him to go upstairs and get his robe. Of course he ignored me. So, I said, "Okay, now fly upstairs and get your robe so I can help you put it on."

He looked at me, head to the side. "Um...I think I have to walk."

Taking advantage of my momentary ambush, I replied, "No, no! You have to fly up the stairs!"

"It's too far," he whined. Of course it was; that's why I didn't go myself.

"That's why I told you to fly - much faster." So hard to keep a straight face at that point.

"Do I have to pretend to fly on top of an airplane or something?" So literal minded, this one.

"Nah, just..." and here I kind of put one fist up, ala Superman, and mimed bounding into the air. "Whoosh!"

And so he did. He got his robe. He also forgot to come back downstairs, so I had to make a trip up anyway, but who cares. It was fun while it lasted.

Yet, at other times when some children would let their literal mindedness upset them, Gus is just fine.

Our neighbor was putting up a six-foot Winnie the Pooh and Tigger Halloween decoration as the kids ran around it playing. Gus kept poking them, so we joked that if he kept it up, the vampire-Tigger was going to eat him up. Gus laughed at that; the neighbor's four year old started to cry.

"I don't want Tigger to eat him up!" She was really quite inconsolable. This is the same kid who can watch Pirates of the Caribbean without blinking twice.

They really are fascinating beings, children are.

Whose Fault is it Really?

Gus decided to go pay a neighbor a visit this evening. Under normal circumstances, this might not be such a big deal. The problem is that we don't really know these neighbors and he barged into their home uninvited.

This hasn't been a problem in a while. He used to run into our old neighbor's apartment across the hall, and when we first moved here, he went into our next door neighbor's house. But he hasn't done that in about a year.

I want to throttle someone, but who? Do I blame the six year old who was just curious about what the people down the way were watching on television? Do I get mad at the father who was grilling outside and was supposed to be watching his son? Do I kick myself in the butt for allowing Gus to go out, when I know my husband can't multi-task, when we already had an incident earlier when my husband was supposed to be watching the kids, while I was inside mashing sweet potatoes? Who's really to blame here?

Or maybe I should just be grateful that our neighbors aren't maniacs and didn't try to hurt my son or scream at him (like the guy next door did last year) call the police or some other reaction that could have made this situation much worse.

Gus has been punished and is losing all video game and computer privileges for three days. I told my husband that I thought he should lose his gaming rights for three days as well; he was supposed to be responsible while Gus was outside or else he should have sent Gus in until he could pay attention. But he apparently does not agree.

So what I've learned today is that I cannot turn my back long enough to pee or to make a side dish for dinner.

And they say that having a child with special needs can put a strain on a marriage. I can't imagine why. By my view, it's not so much the child or the special needs that are the problem.

Please comment and let me know: am I wrong and/or crazy?

A Born Leader

"Titans, go!" Gus shouted in his Robin costume and then took off racing across the room, probably after the baddest of bad guys, Slade. His sister, dressed as Starfire, tore after him. Amusingly enough, the three other kids did the same. He leads, they follow. Not bad for the kid with the poorest social skills of the lot.

We went to a Halloween themed birthday party this afternoon, and I'm so proud of Gus. The room was full of people, but he managed himself like a champ. He only attempted to leave the room once. The rest of the time he ran with the other children, took part in games like Duck, Duck, Goose, and was accepted as one of the crowd. It was awesome to see! Heck, he knew the rules to Duck, Duck, Goose better than I did.

He did not have a single meltdown at the party. The diet went right out the window, but everything was fine. For a day, treats and sweets won't kill him.

Even toward the end of the day after we were home, his only meltdown was when the computer started acting wonky, and I think that was more hunger than computer frustration. How do I know this? Because he sat down for dinner without doing his usual laps around the living room. That only happens when he's famished.

Anyway, it was a good day and the costume has survived enough for Halloween.