The Fish Pond

Nearly Wordless Wednesday: My Girls

And what it took to get these wonderful images:

 

 

A Beautiful Day Is Any Day You Hear A Favorite Author Speak

Which is what Little Man learned today.

 

Tom Angleberger, the author of the Strange Case of Origami Yoda and Darth Paper Strikes Back, was absolutely fantastic. Some authors don't have much of a stage presence, but he isn't one of them. He drew pictures, he talked for an hour and was engaging the whole time, and we all got to make our own origami Yodas. He signed all three of Little Man's books and drew pictures in them and I don't think Little Man stopped smiling all day. Even when  he had to go read under a tree for an hour while I waited for The Bloggess to sign my copy of her book.

 And I learned that Jenny Lawson is so awesome that she had a police escort/standby/handler team the whole time she was speaking and signing books. And she's so hysterical that they had a hard time keeping a straight face while she joked about taking drugs. It was awesome. If for some strange reason you live under a rock and haven't heard of her (her book debuted at #1 on the NYT Bestseller list for non-fiction), and you have a good tolerance for colorful language and zany crude humor, go. Get her book and read it. Make sure your bladder is empty. You will laugh until you cry and then laugh some more. You can thank me later.

We came home with books for everyone in the family, most of them signed by their authors, a young boy who talked with a new sci fi/fantasy author about time travel and his books for a full 35 minutes, sore feet and a slight sunburn. A beautiful day indeed.

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The Ending of the Beginning: Diagnosis

It has been a long time coming.

First, there was the conference with Nemo's teacher in November that confirmed that she was seeing the same types of issues that I had been seeing, and that he'd benefit from being evaluated for services to treat those issues.

We saw our pediatrician in November, who asked "Is he always like this?" as Nemo basically climbed the walls and didn't stop moving. Yes, yes he is. We got a referral to Children's Hospital specialists. We called for an appointment and were given one. In May.

We talked to a private OT about his fine motor issues. That was cost prohibitive for us at that time.

We went to the county Child Find. They screened him. They referred him for further evaluation, in the form of more specific fine motor evaluation and observation of his classroom by a psychologist. And my worst fear? That he'd be  having a good day? Came true.

He had a phenomenal day. He buttoned buttons. He'd never done that before or since. He was fast putting tic tacs in a small pill bottle. He held a pencil almost properly, and he scootched it back and forth in his hand, though she had to hold his left hand down to keep him from assisting that way. He'd never done that either. My husband and I were both shocked. He cut, he drew, he wrote, he built things with blocks. He was fantastic.

Still, he scored 8 months behind in his grasping, and was missing some skills that he should have mastered at 48 months. Despite that, his overall score put him in the 47th percentile, in the average range, and does not qualify him for services. He needed to have a greater than 25% deficit to qualify and they did not feel he fell into that range.

The next day his teacher told me it was like he spent all he had at the evaluation, because the next day his writing skills were worse than usual. Both she and I were intensely frustrated.

The psychologist came and observed the classroom but signals were crossed and neither Nemo's teacher nor I knew she was coming. His teacher was able to talk with the psychologist later, though, and tell her some of the things she had been seeing in the classroom. The psychologist basically recommended a "wait and see" approach, but told us at the "IEP" meeting (I put that in quotes because they were simply telling us that he didn't qualify for an IEP) that she was glad we were going to see a developmental pediatrician, because she was going to recommend that if we hadn't seen vast improvement in certain issues to see one in six months anyway. We were ahead of the game.

Both the occupational therapist and the psychologist stressed that they were only looking at educational disabilities. All they cared about was whether or not he was available for learning, so they wouldn't look much at his social skills or behavioral issues, except as how they may or may not impact his capacity for academic learning. But the developmental pediatrician would look at the whole child. Social issues, academic issues, developmental and conceptual issues. Everything.

And so we come to May, and saw the developmental pediatrician last week.

The room was just like a regular exam room, with an examination table on one wall, three guest chairs perpendicular to that on another wall, the doctor's computer workstation on the next wall perpendicular to the chairs, and a sink next to that. While the doctor asked a ton of questions and I answered them, Nemo tried his very best to be patient, but it was a long time for him. He started climbing down off the table, onto and over the chairs, around me, back along the chairs again, back up on the table, and back again. He responded to the doctor when she addressed him directly, interrupted liberally with whatever his concerns were (which were totally unrelated to what the doctor and I were discussing), and was his general charming, cute, and exhausting self.

After she had examined him, made copies of other reports I had brought with me, and had me fill out a questionnaire, she said "I feel secure giving him an ADHD diagnosis right now." She wrote out a bunch of instructions, referred us to the psychiatry department to have him further evaluated and have behavioral therapies prescribed, and referred us to OT to work on his fine motor deficits to hopefully get that improved  before kindergarten starts next year. She gave me information on 504 plans and we talked a bit about what they are, what they mean, and what types of accommodations we will be asking of his teacher next year.

As she filled out some paperwork she had to do, she turned her said to the side and said "Oh, by the way, nobody has a history of heart problems in the family, do they?" Uh, yup. We do. So she told me she wanted him seen by a cardiologist before she would prescribe any medications for him, even though we agreed to start with behavioral therapies before thinking about medication.

I stopped by the registration desk to schedule the cardiology appointment, and serendipitously they were able to see us right away -- it turns out the cardiologist who was there that day happened to be our regular pediatrician's neighbor and had done her residency with him and his wife. One 12-line EKG later and Nemo had a green light for medications, if he needs them.

There's still a lot of work to be done, a long road ahead of us, to help Nemo be the best Nemo. But for the first time in a couple of years, I'm hopeful that we can get the help we need. Friday night I noticed that my neck and shoulders were sore and wondered why, then realized: I'd relaxed. For the first time in months.

Anybody with experience with young kids with ADHD who might have any tips or want to share your experience, please do. I have a steep learning curve ahead of me.

 

House of Cards

At least weekly someone says to me "I don't know how you do it." I know what they mean, and for once it doesn't refer to how many kids I have. Four has become almost mundane - thank you, Duggars.

Anyway, what they mean is having four kids in four different schools in two different cities. And going through evaluation for special needs at the same time. And letting the kids participate in extra curriculars under our previously determined rule (one activity per kid per season, unless it's something involved with school and I don't have to transport anyone). I knew this year would be rough, I just think I underestimated how rough.

I spend about three hours a day in the car, much more on activity days. That's more than my husband's commute to and from work IN A DIFFERENT STATE, in typical DC traffic. Then I spend around 2 hours supervising homework, because our house is too small to send them to different rooms to do homework and heaven forbid they might actually sit in the same room and work on their own homework without interfering with someone else's, I mean, geez, Mom, that's just asking way too much. So they do it in shifts. This is one of the reasons I know without a doubt I could not homeschool more than one of my kids at a time.

I tend not to be a rigid, absolute schedule kind of person, but I've had to develop routines to get us through this season of our lives. And they're great.

Until something deviates. Someone gets sick. Someone misses a bus. One small thing has a domino effect on everything else. We just do the best we can.

The day's routine goes something like this:

Alarm goes off at 6:15. I hit the snooze alarm unconsciously until my brain fog is penetrated enough for me to open an eye and look at the clock. I usually stagger up between 6:40 and 7. I hit the bathroom then wander down the hall to make sure Trout got up with her alarm. She usually doesn't.

We aren't morning people around here. Well, except for Nemo.

After I rouse Trout I go back to my room to wash up quickly and throw some clothes on. I head downstairs to help Trout focus on getting ready for school rather than tormenting her siblings and wake up any kids that Trout didn't manage to wake up already by whining about her pants or the fact that she doesn't have her own room and her sister had the audacity to look at her. On Nemo's school days, I grab his clothes.

Once downstairs I issue 437 reminders to Trout to put her shoes on, find her cell phone and inhaler, make sure the phone's off, put everything in her backpack, stop pestering her brother. No, you can't watch tv. Did you eat something? Breakfast is usually granola bars and milk or juice, sometimes cold cereal, but we just don't have the time or energy for anything else. No, cookies or marshmallows are not okay for breakfast. Ditto pie. Leftover chicken or spaghetti? Go for it! I make sure Trout has her water or gatorade so she doesn't pass out at school, break up four more fights, remind Trout life isn't fair. Her carpool picks up at 7:30 and I kiss and hug her over her protests (actually under her protests is more accurate - she's taller than me now) and send her out the door.

The decibel level in the house drops by 55%.

I then turn my focus to Sunny and Little Man, who are much better about independently brushing hair and teeth, packing their school lunches, putting on their shoes, finding books and backpacks, and eating breakfast. I just have to have a discussion every other day about Using Nice Words because these two? Oil and water, baby. And I can't take the verbal nastiness. I'm thinking about instituting their teacher's Kindness Reward system at home. Fining them for calling each other Stupid Idiot didn't seem to bother them enough to make them stop doing it.

On Nemo school days, I pack his lunch and help him get dressed and remind him he cannot watch tv or play wii or DS or on anyone's iPod. On non-school days, I just leave him in his pjs and change him later. When I get around to it. Or, not. Whatever, I'm forced to be laid back about it. We find his shoes and get his breakfast. I break up 52 fights since the boys can't seem to walk past each other without punching each other. Or, I should say, NEMO can't walk past anyone without touching them in some way - whether it's to pet their hair or punch them totally depends on planetary alignment. (Why, yes, we DO suspect ADHD, why do you ask?)

At 8:00 I drive Little Man to the neighborhood elementary school to catch his bus. On days when BigDaddyFish is still in the house getting dressed I leave the littles behind, but sometimes they come with me. Fortunately it's just around the corner so round trip is usually only around 10 minutes. It takes longer to make Nemo sit in his car seat and buckle up than it does to drive there.

Then I kill two birds with one stone by walking Sunny to her bus stop in our neighborhood while walking the dog. This bus is going to the same school where I just dropped Little Man off, but of course the buses are not coordinated. We could sit around in the school parking lot for 30 minutes until I am allowed to drop Sunny off, but we need those precious minutes for tasks at home. I'd either need to walk the dog beforehand which would mean less sleep, or wait until after all the dropoff is over, which would likely mean cleaning up pee. I'd rather sleep and not clean up pee, thankyouverymuch.

Finally, if I'm lucky, BDF takes Nemo and drops him off at his preschool in the next town on his way to work. Unfortunately he's usually running late so I pick whether it's more important for Nemo to be on time or for me to not drive down there and we proceed accordingly. If I drive him it's about a 40 minute round trip.

On those school days, I have three precious hours to do what needs to be done. Eat breakfast. Housework. Take a shower. Doctor's appointments. Evaluation meetings that need to be done without the child. Go to the store without a hinderer helper. Stare off into space and marvel at the quiet. Read a book. Write a blog post.

It's not enough time. I'm tired. The house is a mess. I've gained back a lot of weight I worked so hard to lose. I rarely get out of the house to do my own thing.

Then the afternoon routine stretches out. Nemo at 1. Drive Trout's carpool at 2:30. Get Sunny at 3:10, Little Man between 3:40 and 4. Homework shifts. Send them outside to make all that noise somewhere other than here. Chores. Ballet two days a week, youth group for one. Dinner, shower/baths, settling down for bed. Laundry and dishes intertwined. Second shift dinner when BDF gets home late. I start going cross-eyed with fatigue around 10, though usually can't make it to bed until 11-12 sometime.

On the days Nemo doesn't have school, I try to get done what little housework I can in between raising my son. We play trains. Take the dog on a long walk. Go to the playground. Watch movies. Build with legos and blocks. Play Wii. I try to get him to do mazes or write or color or anything else I can think of that will work his fine motor issues and he tries to resist. I try to make sure we both don't end up in tears. On days when the trees are not pollinating, we go outside and he rides his bike all over. He "watches" tv sometimes, but it's only watching in the sense that the tv is on and he surprisingly absorbs what's on it; more often he's also playing with trains or cars or trying to figure out how to overpower me and get his brother's nerf guns off the top of the refrigerator. He loves when Sunny comes home because she'll play with him better than I do. He'd fire me if he could.

On weekends I sleep in as much as I can. Sometimes I nap, too. We don't go to church before 11. Even then, we're usually late.

But it's a season. This will pass. I will have my kids in a minimum of two different schools for the next eleven years and the two minimum won't happen for seven years. There will only be one year when I have all my school kids at the same school: Sunny's senior year. At least by then, the kids can help with transportation.

I'd be daunted, but I survived the early years. They passed. No one's in diapers anymore, I'm not nursing any babies. The small messy toys will be outgrown, passed on. One day in the future I won't have to worry about the slightest breeze knocking down my house of cards. The house will be quiet, my time my own. Then I'll miss the noise, the chaos. I probably won't miss the mess, though.

So that's how I do it - I just. do. it. I endure. Because I'm doing what I believe is right for my kids. Just like those with fewer kids, in fewer schools, in the same town. Just like you do.

 

How To Make Your Older Brother Hate You in One Easy Step

Last night was one of those PTA fund raiser nights at Chik-fil-A, this time for Little Man's school. We could practically eat out every blasted night on fund raiser nights since we have so many schools, so usually I say no, but last night was youth group for Trout and ballet class for Sunny and I had no energy, probably due to the pollen counts in the frillions. We tried to go through the drive thru, but they told me they wouldn't do the fund raiser unless you come in to the restaurant, so we ended up inside.

While we had been in the drive thru line we saw one of Little Man's friends through the windows of the restaurant, a girl who is in his class and rides his bus and with whom he's quite smitten, sitting and eating with her dad and siblings. He's a ballsy one, this boy of mine, and he told her ages ago that he liked her. I asked him what her reaction was, he said she said it was a little weird, but their friendship has continued so I guess it wasn't a fatal mistake for him to tell her. Apparently she told her mom at some point, and told Little Man that her mom just kind of chuckled, just like I did when he told me.

Anyway, the restaurant was packed - a soccer team on a tour bus came in immediately after we did, and there were already about a dozen families from Little Man's school. We ordered our food and I sent the kids to grab a seat while I waited for our food to come out. As I waited, I saw the little girl come up behind Little Man and tap him on the shoulder to say hi. They talked briefly, I saw him gesture to Sunny and Nemo (Trout was at youth group) and then at me, and then she turned to walk back to her table. She got about halfway to her table (which was only about 10 feet from ours) and Nemo yelled "He likes you, you know!" Loud enough to be heard over the soccer team. And everything else.

She scampered the rest of the way to her table with a huge smile on her face while Little Man turned purple and tried to disappear into the wall. He ate his food in silence while scowling at Nemo. Sunny proceeded to watch the little girl and her family and provide a running commentary on what they were doing. Periodically Little Man would mutter something unintelligible under his breath and glower at Sunny.

I chose to pack up our food and leave before Little Man clobbered his siblings. It's no wonder he was a grumpy mess all night and got sent to bed early for beating Sunny with his dirty socks.

At least he had already told the little girl he likes her. She likes him back - having been a little girl myself, the signs were easy to spot. I hope her embarrassment wasn't too much to change that.