How to Irritate a Geographer

Recently I've seen two Spanish educators--Iz's teacher, and the brilliant writer Denise Minor--assert that Español is not spoken in Africa. We'll just have to erase Equatorial Guinea from them map, then, eh?

Don't ask me about rivers or mountains or capitals, though. I'm shite at all that.

Light at the Bottom of the Honey Bucket

Today at the pumpkin patch, Leelo peed in a porta-potty for the very first time.

After we came home, I caught him assuming his favored downloading position (he puts the pad from his toy bench on the floor, lies tummy down, and raises his bottom ever so slightly). So I whisked him off to the potty. Where he did a partial download himself, with fewer protests than usual. Progress.

When Seymour came home tonight, Leelo did not greet him at the door as he usually does. Seymour went looking, and found Leelo on the downstairs potty, atop a gloriously golden bowl. Our boy went pee in the pot all by himself! First time ever.

I am ready to set up an altar dedicated to Pu11ups, which--in addition to the intensive efforts from his team--I think are at the root of all these potty pleasures. They have magic micro-velcro sides, making them a true diaper/underwear hybrid. Leelo can pull them down and up like real drawers, I can get them on and off him without removing his pants, yet they still absorb five fluid gallons before springing a leak. We switched to them full time a few days ago. Leelo is not going back to diapers, not ever.

All in all I am feeling cheery. Although I will in the future remind my depleted self that blood donation days and pumpkin patch days should be separate days.

Here are some pumpkin pictures:


Iz launching herself from the hay bale pyramid.


Merlin airborne.


Sophie aloft.


Leelo pumpkining. Unfortunately I can't upload the related video, which shows him skipping through the squashes.


A final first: Leelo pays affectionate attention to Mali!

No, wait. Another final first: Leelo imitated me smiling today, upon being prompted. It was with a rictus grin, but it was also the first time he's acknowledged that there are such things as smiles. Oooh happy day.

Thank You for Reinforcing My Child's Budding Prevarication Skills

All the inner calm gathered from Jo's and Badger's watching Mali while I ate lunch BY MYSELF (oh, thank you!) dissipated instantly upon my arrival at Iz's classroom, when I was dragged into an excellent lesson in picking and sticking with lies.

Iz and her classmate Billy were both at the teacher's desk. The teacher brought me over and told me in front of the two children that apparently someone drew something bad on Billy's eraser and he says it was Iz and she says it was him.

The teacher chose to say that it was Iz (which may very well be true, but she had no evidence and Iz denies wrongdoing). She then spent more than 10 minutes cajoling Iz to admit and apologize. The teacher did not back off or modify her attack when Billy admitted that he didn't see Iz do it, that he was told she did it by someone else. Who was not present. The teacher didn't relent even after Billy said that he wasn't all that concerned, anyhow.

I did not tell the teacher to back the fuck off because I do not consider it in any way helpful to challenge her authority in front of her charges. However, my actual opinion is that she's out of her fucking gourd, and that she has no sense of how children's minds operate.

***I interrupt this rant to let you know that Mali has just crawled into my office with a pair of my underwear strung ever so jauntily around her neck.***

Firstly, where does the teacher get off on deciding, without any tangible evidence, that it was my child who was in the wrong? I'm not denying that Iz may be lying--I'm debating her decision to condemn Iz based on conflicting hearsay.

My choice in a "she did it--no, he did it!" scenario would be to punish ALL the children, because those kids certainly know who did it. The wrongly maligned pack members will then make sure justice kicks the ass of the right person.

Another, more kindly choice would be for the teacher to scale back and tell the children involved that she was very disappointed in the wrongdoer, but, without evidence, she was going to have to let the matter go.

Secondly, few directly confronted children will then come out and admit that, yes, it was them--because why would they want additional punishment on top of the interrogation they're already being subjected to? On what planet would this scenario motivate a conflicted, guilty child to tell the truth? Best to deny, deny, lie, and deny to prevent further humiliation.

For the record, Iz never once wavered from her story, except to add additional details. Usually when she's in denial mode she will spin the story in a different direction each time. I believe she is telling me the truth.

The teacher's final directive was for Iz to go home and write a letter of apology to the other child. I guarantee that Iz will be bringing in a letter, however it will be from me rather than my daughter.

In the mean time I will make sure Iz knows that, while bad behavior is most undesirable, she will never be punished for telling me the truth. A new era of honesty! Freedom!

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Later...

I am done with taking the kids to nice restaurants. Even with both Seymour and Babysitter A attending and at the ready, the meal was a hellish stress fest. No More.

But Seymour got me a Nan0! Yeah!

The past few days have been unusually stressful and draining. I would like a stiff drink at some point tomorrow night.

Tomorrow the New Era Begins

Another Iron Gate meeting. Sigh. More nattering on about developmental and parenting topics that have no relevance to Leelo's life. This time about unconditiona1 parenting, which in my opinion can be boiled down to "take time to be thoughtful when you speak to your kids" and a bunch of other crap about how empty praise is on the same continuum as punishment, how kids should feel you love them all the time, not just when they're doing something praiseworthy.

I really do think most parenting books need to go straight back to their papermill of origin.

I am also thinking increasingly about why our boy is spending four afternoons a week at Iron Gate when instead he could be at home doing more intensive therapy with the occasional playgroup. Especially when shitty little girls refuse to respond to his overtures or greetings, turning away from him like he's not actually there, not actually a child like they are, and telling the adult attempting to facilitate that "I'm just so tired today."

I used to feel bad about cornering a pediatrician Iron Gate parent and asking about Leelo's various ailments--however tonight I saw her cornering Sage with speech therapy questions. No more guilt for me! I will ask Sage if she has a signal I should watch out for if she ever needs to be extracted from such scenarios. Although admittedly I spent very little of the evening being social. Not like Miss Mali, the unabashed life (and soundtrack) of the party.

Leelo himself is right back in loopyland, with expressive language and eye contact at about 15% of what they were during his lovely September/August. He's just not a good performing monkey right now. I blame sugar, I blame two weeks without B12 shots (we ran out), I blame our nutso schedule, I blame the stars in the sky.

Not that he's lost language, or even stopped gaining it. He's been telling everyone whenever Seymour or I heed nature's call: "Daddy's/Mommy's in the potty." Using generalized language like, "I want food," or, "Let's take this with us," the latter about bringing a favorite ball upstairs.

He's been showing more evidence of his keen memory and powers of observation and hearing, in telling us, "I want to go to the pool," when we visit an estate he's only been to once, months ago, and which he entered from the opposite gate. In saying "I want to go see Sage" after overhearing me talking on the phone about how his next appointment is with her.

He is still, as always, snuggly, darling, and a delightful boy.

Iz finished HP5 after a break when HP's godfather passed, because she was angry about his character dying and didn't want to keep reading the series if more important characters were going to be killed. She has also decided that her next reading series is going to be Quicksi1ver, The C0nfusion, and The System 0f the Wor1d, "because HP5 was over 800 pages and those books are over 1000 pages and I'm ready for 1000 page books now." I suggested my one-volume edition of L0TR instead.

I will admit that her focusing on page count rather than content or story is teeth-gnashingly worrisome to me. Reading for show rather than fulfillment and all that. Forcing herself onto books she's not ready for and being put off them for life. Badger and Jo, prop me up and tell me not to fret.

Also let me know if you'd like a copy of Iz's school picture, which just came back. In it she arranged her braids like her favorite picture of G0ldberry. Also her slight exotropia is evident because they took off her glasses, the turds. Still a very cute photo.

Mali continues to be hard-core extrovert baby. Wants everyone's attention, all the time. Destroys everything she touches (latest: reaching up and snapping off my necklace). Very, very, very cute with her wispy curls and goofy smile and constant waving to/greeting of every person she encounters. Very adept cruising. Had a good session with Jane the Iron Gate nursery aide--only a few minutes of screaming this week. Whew. Still wants me all the time, snuggles right into my side like the cuddly parasite she is all night long.

So, if you're wondering if I want anything for my birthday tomorrow, the answer is YES. I want you to come play with this fucking baby for an hour so I can have some time to myself.

No More Raspberries. I Mean It.

Leelo's trots woke him up at 3 A.M. He never went back to bed. He did, however, wake Mali with his yelling, so I got to crawl back into bed to nurse her to sleep while Seymour played Zombie Dad with Leelo until the rest of the household awoke. I am getting tired of my role as the bearer of soporific udders, but in this case was blatantly grateful for the out. And grateful to my partner for not calling me on it.

Leelo was pretty much physically present but mentally removed all day. Still some good language, but hard to get it out of him. Hopefully a good night's sleep will make all well.

Iz seems to have forgotten that adoption, like reproduction and politics, is an ask-permission-first topic. On our way out of Iron Gate, I introduced our oldest girl to Jane the nursery aide (she for whom Mali screams like a demon each Monday). Iz proceeded to tell Jane how she was the oldest child in our family but not her Mommy's oldest child because her mommy had had a baby a long time ago and had given it up for adoption. This just as two more Iron Gate parents were walking by. Jane took it in stride, I laughed awkwardly and mumbled something about information overload.

Mali really is terrifically clever and wonderful. I can say this with oomph because I do not know any other babies to compare her to, nor have I been reading anything about babies' development. So I can declare it amazing that today she vocalized, "Hi, Jo!", chased Merlin around the living room while growling at him, and properly draped herself with a beaded necklace three times in a row. Because no other babies have ever done anything so tremendous, not in the entire history of babies.

I am fretting about her less. I am relishing her seemingly typical babyness.

Went to a school board candidate's salon tonight. Very edifying. Brilliant people, almost all women. Included Ep, who had dragged me there.

To bed.

Bits About Three Bits

Iz tried to pull the "I barfed" thing at school again today. Neither the school nurse nor I bought it, though--she was told that she'll need to present physical evidence next time.

Yesterday she told me that she'd changed her mind about her nemesis Sanchez, and that she really did want to invite him to her birthday party. She asked me if we could have a sorting hat at the party. I said okay. She then asked me to make sure the sorting hat put Sanchez in S1ytherin (her idea of the worst punishment possible). Did I mention that I recently had her look up "cunning" in the dictionary?

Leelo is still loopy. He's been chewing on eveything again, and ignoring our requests even when we get in his face. But the language is still there, the evidence of increased comprehension is still there. His therapists are pleased. Saying things like "I'm looking for Ada," about a train he hasn't played with or even mentioned for a year. He is also sneaky enough to know that if he doesn't want to do something, he can say, "I need to go potty" and I will instantly drop the challenge to shuttle him off to the happy land of penis access.

He's got the trots, though. Possibly because I let him have some dried raspberries yesterday. Poor boy, I really do need to make an appointment with a nutritionist. He might also have a runny nose.

Now that teething is all done, Mali is back to being the most social baby I've ever encountered. And the most systematically destructive. And the cleverest. (Just as all your babies are the friendliest, most energetic, and smartest, to be sure.) Today she spent a good long time turned around in her high chair, pointing to the individual letters in the chair's logo and (I swear!) trying to say, "What's that?"

She also took every single item out of the lowest drawer of her dresser and spread them all over the office floor. Upstairs she did the same thing with Leelo's trains, the stuffed animals, and two shelves of books. Thankfully Murphy came and rehung the doors on the art cabinet, so those supplies at least are off limits until she grows tall enough to reach the door handles.

Late late late. Good night.

Couldn't Have Scripted This One

Today started with a funeral and ended with a birth.

Ep and I spent the morning at the funeral of Iz's and Merlin's former preschool teacher. G was a kind, sweet woman who was obviously meant to work with children. The really brutal part, aside from the suddenness of her passing, was that she and her husband had adopted their only daughter less than two years ago.

Neither Ep nor I could get ourselves to approach the open casket. What we saw of the Buddhist ceremony was lovely and touching--but we couldn't stay because Mali was too busy blasting all my fears into outer space by being the most extremely social and vocal baby one might ever wish for--if one wasn't in service at a memorial chapel.

I spent the rest of day in a bit of a funk, fuming at The Fates. Then Seymour bounded up the stairs with the following news:

Godmother Stacy had two healthy girls earlier this evening, approximately 90 minutes apart. I do not have additional details because Seymour, not I, was the one who took the phone call and he doesn't quite have the hang of pumping people for birth details. But healthy, happy, two girls. Who will be gifted all of Mali's lovingly stored wee girly infant clothes.

Blasphemy

I'm not a big Firef1y fan. Buffy-speak is the provenance of teens and young adults, and it is jarring to hear it from the mouths of grown up space rebels. I am angry that Mr. Whed0n let the seventh and fifth seasons of two greater shows out to pasture, tangibly, while he played space cowboy. I wish he'd waited one more year to saddle up.

I'll watch Firef1y if nothing else is on, but give me Batt1estar Ga1actica any day.

Who's Smarter: Me, or Me?

I am sick of outwitting myself.

I spent the better part of the week looking for Iz's glasses (the magic lenses ones, not the backups she's been wearing lately). I cleaned and organized the entire upstairs, plus the kids' room, in looking for them amidst the usual drifting piles of crap. I went through all the recyclables, and ***BARF*** two big fetid bags of trash.

They were in her backpack, where I had put them so they wouldn't get lost.

Fretting on Three Levels

I can't help it. I parent, therefore I fret.

I fret about Mali because I want more eye contact than she's been wanting to give. Most likely she's avoiding looking at my eyes because I'm always two inches from her nose, and because she is tired and grumpy from busting out her second upper tooth this morning and therefore not napping properly for days. If I bring out a really exciting toy like Leelo's roaring lion flashlight, she squeals with delight and gawks right at me in amazed gratitude. I know I'm being a moron.

But, again, I can't help it. I vividly remember reading a newspaper article about the autism epidemic when Leelo was Mali's age and Iz was two, and thinking how lucky we were that our kids didn't show any of the described traits. What a relief!

Yeah.

Just yesterday I received a MYND Institute update on the infant siblings study. So far, less than 25% of the infants with autistic siblings have developed worrisome behaviors. Good news! But none of them had any symptoms at 6 months, when Mali had her first evaluation. When symptoms did appear, it was between 9 and 18 months. Mali is only 10 months old. Gaaah.

Also she is doing the funky asymmetrical right-leg-leading crawling that Leelo used to do and that Iz never did. I know typical kids do this too. But she also tends to keep her right hand clenched even when her left hand is relaxed, awake or asleep.

She has also definitely lost interest in eating items that are not fruits or starches. Initially she gobbled down almost everything, now I'm realizing she won't even touch former favorites like scrambled egg or avocado. She isn't eating much non-nursing food at all, and has visibly narrowed (though she is still meaty). Leelo did the same thing--his growth chart marks dropped dramatically between 6 and 12 months.

More worrisome is that she seems to have fallen off the Hyper-Social Baby pedestal. She used to seek out and greet people; now she lets them hold her but doesn't seem to be interacting as much. Possibly long-term grumpy teething baby effects? She needs to get some real daytime sleep. Poor tiny girl.

This week's autism research unearthed something I'd not read before, that autistic children and their family members usually have short index fingers compared to ring fingers, and that this is related to high levels in-utero testosterone/androgens exposure. My mom always commented on my stubby index finger, which Leelo has inherited. Mali seems to have it, too. Iz's index finger is nice and long. (I snuck into her room scanned it with her reading flashlight.)

The original study also suggests that women with bigger hips and smaller waists (indicating high estrogen and low testosterone) are more likely to have children without that bad, bad, stubby pointer finger. I may be stacked to the rafters, but I've got the hips and waist of a boy. (A well-fed boy.) If "hips" can also be said to include "ass," (which I also don't have), then perhaps my girls are safe after all, not only now but when and if they decide to breed. They've both got butt to spare. Leelo, sadly, has absolutely nothing back there--except a dark line of hair down his neck, which always did make me wonder about skewed hormones.

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Leelo himself is still not at top form, but he continues to gain new language and skills. Today he was able to correctly follow the request "Leelo, pick up Mali's clothes and bring them to me," when asked only once, with no visual prompts or physical cuing, and while there was a good deal of other crap on the floor. Astounding, given his inability to consistently follow even one-step, highly prompted and aided directions only last year.

He's also demonstrating increasing social fluidity. This afternoon, while visiting Godmother Stacy's lovely palace of a home so we could stare at her almost-term twin-bearing-belly, we asked Leelo to say, "Thank you, Arnold," to Stacy's ever helpful spouse. Instead of staring straight ahead while rotely repeating the prompting statement, Leelo first looked around to see where Arnold was, and made eye contact (briefly, but hey).

Seymour and I agree that Leelo has integration issues, and is most likely a candidate for audio integration therapy, and that we should investigate it more. I am going to chat about it with Therapist M, his occupational therapist, tomorrow, to see if she has any leads on formal testing facilities.

I guess none of these Leelo items are fretting, exactly. We are happy with where Leelo is, and feel good about where he's going to be. Post-preschool, we don't feel that that place needs to be a regular, mainstream kindergarten unless Leelo is ready for it. We want him to be in the best environment for his needs, and if that is the special autism class that Ep recently found out about at Merlin's school, so be it.

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I guess I'm fretting more about how having a special needs brother is affecting Iz. She is increasingly treating Leelo badly or ignoring his overtures to her while in public, which lights my britches on fire but is understandable. No child would choose to be the one with the odd little brother. I still kick her ass over it, though.

This issue makes me wonder if Big Noggin (the local 3-8 gifted public magnet school) would be better for Iz, next year. Wouldn't you think that the geeks would be more accepting of loopy siblings than the regular kids? Or maybe, since they're being culled and isolated before being properly socially cast out themselves, the geeks would use their mental powers to carry out greater cruelties. I tend to think not, though. I like to imagine Big Noggin as a happy cocoon of warm nerd love.

Seymour and I have lots of opinions to process regarding whether Iz should stay at Esperanza or jump ship to Big Noggin next year (assuming she gets in). Iz herself wants to jump so she can take more science, and have all her classes in English.

I don't think Iz is having the most pleasant social experience at Esperanza. She is still sad about being isolated from last year's friends, and about her social status in general. With the exception of Violet, no one from school has ever asked her on a play date.

I think she gets grief about being younger and shorter and smarter, I think the older kids in her grade take advantage of her naivete and temper to get her in more trouble than she would already encounter. These issues would deflate at Big Noggin.

However I don't know if Big Noggin will be able to support her Spanish skills. She is finally comfortable enough to use her Spanish in the real world, and I'd hate to see her lose it.

Badger opines that nerds thrive best together, with their own kind. I agree. Violet's mom, who used to be pro-Big Noggin, now thinks that it would be a shame for Violet to lose her Spanish, and wants her daughter to stay at Esperanza. I agree with her, too. Jo, whose Eliz is in her second Big Noggin year, would club me on the head if it would guarantee a Big Noggin choice for Iz, and I understand. Two other parents whose super-bright kids chose to stay at Esperanza think that now is the time to work on language skills, and that the kids can start Big Noggin in later grades if need be. I see their points. Sigh.

If I were to choose right now, Iz would be Big Noggin bound. She's going to be a fretter like her mom, and she would blend more and stress less at Big Noggin.

BTW, Iz had a milestone today: she said "fuck" in my hearing for the first time. It was part of a query, and was an accident (she says). I told her that it was just a word, but that she needed to be careful where she said it or she could get in really big trouble. Should be interesting to see how that experiment pans out.

Don't Tell Iz You Heard This Story

Iz (banging on the door): Mommy! I need to use the potty!
Me (bathing and reading, blessedly alone): Iz, go upstairs. I'm taking a bath.
Iz: Pleeease! I really need to go!
Me (grumbling): Oh, fine, go ahead. I'll slide the bath door closed so I don't suffocate.
Iz: Thank you!!!

She flouces in and does her business, then hops up to take a look at the results.

Iz: Mommy! It looks like a rosette and a serpent! I bet this signifies that I'll be going to H0gwarts when I'm eleven!
Me: (Grateful that I'm already lying down, really trying not to laugh): Mmmm. And that you'll be in S1ytherin, heh heh.

Later on I told the story to Seymour.

Seymour: A serpent, eh? Iz, does that mean you're a Parselbum?
Iz: (Can't help laughing, but also mortified): Daddy!

Lately she has been fascinated by compound words. Even more so since I told her that compound words make very popular, creative, and satisfying insults, using beloved examples "fartknocker" and "cakesniffer."

She's still got a few gaps in her comprehension of the concept, though, as she tried to convince me that "compound" was itself a compound word. When I told her that "com" was not a word in this case so much as a prefix, she said, "But, mommy, what about dot com?"

She and Seymour are off daddy/daughter camping for the weekend. I wish them luck and only a light bit of the forecasted rain (I didn't read the weather report and I guess neither did the weekend's eight participating families).

I remain home with the two little menaces. I kept Mali awake until Babysitter A arrived to play with Leelo, with the intention of nursing the baby asleep and having a glorious hour or so to myself for the first daylight time since Monday. However Miss Mali only felt like sleeping for 10 minutes. I then conscripted Eliz for an impromptu inaugural gig as a mother's helper. Except Mali was only a happy playful baby for the first 30 minutes. Now Eliz is upstairs reading and Mali is sleeping on my lap, having been nursed asleep yet again, successfully. Sigh.

Leelo has been noticeably loopy yesterday and today, with more vocalizing and stim behaviors than we've seen in a long time. But--the language is still there. Yesterday he looked at the mind-trippy B00hbahs we'd Tiv0'd and correctly observed, "They're dancing!" Today he wanted me to come away from the computer and so told me, "Time to get off the chair, Mommy."

I also like the fact that he tries to wiggle away from his Therapists, Babysitter A, and Seymour by announcing, "I want to go see Mommy!" Little brownnoser. (hey another example!)

BTW, I've finally updated the about file, seeing as I'm no longer pregnant.

Off to dinner with Jo and sprogs. Manny is out of town, too. It'll be a stripped down version of our usual chaos fest.