April 6, 2010

h. e. l. p. m. e.



I do not know what to do about Z. and Kindergarten and I badly need some outside perspective before I drive myself completely insane about something that might be ok either way.
The elementary school is very clear on their position. Z. is now 5 and will be six in October. She will be enrolled in Kindergarten. They are giving her the standardized tests now to make sure that she still needs an IEP. (ha!) The tests will confirm if she has some type of learning disability. At that point they will let us know what additional accommodations, if any, they will make for her. Since she will be of age for Kindergarten, she will not be allowed in the preschool program for another year. (dude. bummer.)
Although I am not thrilled about their position, I understand it. It seems that the prevailing wisdom in academia these days is to keep the kids with their chronological peers and make accommodations when necessary. They have rules that they follow in order to keep things running smoothly and to be fair to everyone. The rules make sense. And if you think that perhaps Z. will always be as she is now, that she will never come close to “catching up” and that her issues are very long term, then perhaps it makes a lot of sense to stick her in Kindergarten, let her learn what she can learn, and continue that way until she is finished with school.
Thing is, I’ve given this a LOT of thought and right now I have not convinced myself that Kindergarten next year is the right thing for Z. She knows her letters (upper case), can spell her name, and writes a terrible approximation of her name on occasion. Her motor planning skills are poor (area of greatest weakness) which affects her ability to write. Her fine motor skills are still weak (but improving), her ability to reason and think things through seems very off to me, and she is frequently overwhelmed in her preschool class of 12 (whereas Kindergarten will be 20 children at least). When she gets overwhelmed she shuts down, sucking her tongue or rocking or staring vacantly. In my opinion (and I have no background in education or special needs therapy or anything of the sort) she is not ready emotionally, socially, academically, or developmentally. The only way it seems to me she is ready is chronologically. I worry that a whole year of shutting down because she a) doesn’t understand what is being taught, b) is overwhelmed by the noise or confusion, or c) is completely frustrated with the work being given to her will be counterproductive. I will say that being around her peers has been good for her in preschool and she will try things and do things because she sees the other kids doing them.
So. If you have had to make a similar decision or if you are an education professional or if you have some kind of advice for me, puh-leez leave a comment. Perhaps I need a different perspective, perhaps there is a way of thinking about this that I am not thinking, maybe you see something I can’t see, perhaps there is information I still need to make a good decision for her. I am vaguely open to homeschooling, but I will tell you straight out that I do not understand Z., I do not have the knowledge or skills to help her, and I worry that I will just make things worse for her.
Help. Me.
Seriously.

Posted by grrlTravels on April 6, 2010
in Motherhood | 23 Comments

March 31, 2010

snap!



Project Amy 2010 has begun with a bang. Friday was a spiffy endometrial biopsy (when the nurse says it’s going to hurt so take something before you come she means it) and yesterday was a lovely jaunt to the derm. for a re-excision. With all 3 kids in tow. E. had a LOT of questions and got to see the numbing needle but was in the bathroom for the actual cutting, which is probably just as well.
Still on the docket: annual visit to the scary melanoma clinic (with more cutting I’m sure); second mammogram/ultrasound of the year (for kicks); removal of Big Ugly Cyst (elective, because I like novocaine and stitches); annual visit to breast specialist (let’s hope she doesn’t want the tiny, non-ugly cysts out because that hurt like heck the last time); and follow-up with GYN to see what to do about my oddly shaped uterus and the fibroid and cyst therein. And if I’m a good girl this will be the year that I will visit the genetic counselors. But I wouldn’t hold my breath on that last one—this list doesn’t include the regular doctor visits for 2010.
I don’t really want to do any of these things. And I’m bemused by the fact that someone as seemingly healthy as I am can require so much care. I’m also thankful that I can see all of these people and get their professional opinions on little old me. And all of this nonsense gives me the opportunity to give you my annual pitch.
Go to the doctor. You know, the one you don’t want to go to, the one you haven’t seen in a lot of years.
Have the test you’ve been putting off.
Face whatever it is you don’t want to face. Waiting is only going to make it all worse.
And if you’re all caught up with all of your yucky stuff: YAY YOU! I’m stinkin’ proud of you!



March 31 not only means that I am with stitches, but that another month is over. And no giveaway. Because I can’t get my act together right now. But never fear! I went to Target yesterday to peruse the Liberty of London offerings and as I feared I liked just about everything and I probably bought more than I meant to. And one of the things I bought was a sweeeeeeeet tote bag which is either vinyl or oilcloth (but I’m betting vinyl). It is muy bonito. Actually I bought 3 tote bags (all they had left) and one of them is for one of you! So leave a comment and enter yourself for the Sweeeeeeet Liberty of London Target Collection Tote Bag Give Away in March. It needs to sound that official since I am, you know, way behind as usual. [February winner, your stuff is sitting here! I promise!] I always get around to my plans, but I am not speedy. If you need a Liberty of London tote bag from Target by the end of next week you’d better just go to Target yourself.
I’m off to see if my newly minted stitches can handle 3 miles. Hope they can or it promises to be a long spring.
(My comments are acting funky. I have comments on the last post which are not showing up online but did land in my in-box. I am having K. work on it. So if your comment does not show up right away, fear not, but perhaps you should come back a few days later to make sure it’s landed.)

Posted by grrlTravels on March 31, 2010
in Life, isn't it glorious? | 5 Comments

March 24, 2010

more birthday for me



Thank you for the birthday wishes. It was a lovely day, and much better than my birthdays tend to be. (Bad birthdays completely my fault. More on that later.) It was a fun day playing hooky with K. and the kids, great lunch, wonderful dinner, relaxing, peaceful… Sigh. I wish it was my birthday again today.
But it isn’t. Back to real life. Back to housework, cooking, training, feeling guilty about how far behind I am in getting back to people that should be gotten back to, and the ever-lengthening todo list.
Here’s a little something that K. put together for my birthday:
Watch Amy swim, bike, and then run, all on the same day
This is not the most flattering thing I’ve ever seen, but I’m sharing it with you anyway. Go ahead, watch it. And then come back.
Ok, the beginning biking part was right after I got the bike. I figured out quickly that riding on the trainer was not for me. That swimming bit in the beginning? I don’t swim like that. I was heading for the dock after my swim. Oh and right after that E. jumped off the dock without his lifejacket on (which is ok because he can swim a bit, enough to save himself) but he scared himself and then we had to effect a rescue. Very dramatic. Of course I was right there in the water, so no worries. K. tells me this was the best swimming shot he had. K., you need to take more shots. Because I know you can do better than that. Actually all of the training stuff was early on. I don’t know why I’m compelled to tell you this because you really don’t care. I suppose I do, though.
The first triathlon was converted to a duathlon (run, bike, run) because of weather concerns and debris in the water. I was bummed! In the end it was probably better because my swim the next week was terrible, but at the time I was bummed. The farthest I had run before this race was 3 miles and on race day I ran 1.5 miles, biked 14-ish miles, and then ran 3 miles. Right after I finished it started raining REALLY hard, then thunder and lightning and they called the whole race off. I was so happy that I was able to finish. But it wasn’t a triathlon.
A second triathlon the next weekend was more of the same. Steady, pouring rain. A quick, awful swim (must work on my swimming!), a slippery, wet bike ride, and a run where the water was frequently up to my ankles, and voila! I’m a triathlete. Oh, and the lake? Was filled with geese poop. Everyone was covered in a thin brown sheen of poop as they left the water. All part of the fun.
The video is all from last summer and it makes me want to get ready for this year. I wish I could just magically be a much better swimmer because it would make everything so much easier, but I’m going to have to work at it. And this summer there is a small brand new triathlon right across the street from my house! And K. is doing it with me, if his shoulder ever gets better! Yay!
Clearly I’m still on a birthday-induced high. That’s a good thing. I’m much more chipper that way.

Posted by grrlTravels on March 24, 2010
in Life, isn't it glorious? | Comments Off

March 23, 2010

44.



It’s my birthday. Today. Another one. Already. Huh.
Today I’m 44.
Today I desperately love K. And I’m grateful. Because I can still remember that flurry of wings at the bottom of my stomach when I first saw him, and I still know that we are good for each other.
Today I feel like a mother to my brood of 3. I struggle, worrying and slapping myself down and getting mired in details. I love them, though, and I’m grateful to know this love. It teaches me, all the time, and surprises me too.
Today I believe I am healthy and strong. Most of the time. I still have those tricky knees. And calves. My hips ache when I kick at karate. Some days my back is really funky. Some days I get that weird swollen finger thing and I can’t really use my hand. But mostly healthy.
Today I struggle with my image of myself. I wish I didn’t, and it seems like 44 years might be long enough to resolve such feelings. But I look in the mirror and I churn. Still.
Today I am happy. I feel the happiness looming, alien-like, and I throw myself in.
Today I acknowledge my loneliness. My abandonment issues threaten yet again, whilst I rally myself yet again to look at them, force myself to feel them and accept the solitude. Yet again.
Today I know I have friends, and I appreciate the heck out of them. There were too many years where my so-called friends hurt more than they helped, condemned more than they accepted, took more than they gave. I am thankful for the people who care about me, and who can tell me so.
Today I still don’t know what I want exactly, don’t know if I’ve found my place in this world, but I sense that things are getting better. Every day a little better. I feel overwhelmed and hopeful, lost and productive, tired and, well, tired. And grateful. I don’t want to forget grateful.
It’s a good day. Not free of pain, of conflict, of the contradictions that inform my days. But good. My day. A good day.

Posted by grrlTravels on March 23, 2010
in Life, isn't it glorious? | 9 Comments

March 16, 2010

take care. really.



The girls in my therapy group love to tell me that I’m not taking good enough care of myself. It seems to come up regularly, this concept of “taking care of oneself” and my deficiencies therein. And because I have known some of of these women for years I try hard not to gnash my teeth at them when we talk about it. Occasionally I am successful.
Thing is, I really don’t know what else to do. One of the group’s major hangups is that K. and I never get a babysitter to go out alone together. It isn’t like we never did. A while after E. came along we went away together for an entire week. (Telling you that I still feel guilty about that probably won’t further my case any though.) Once Z. joined our family life changed, and the babysitters went away mostly. Then R. came. Then we didn’t have babysitters any more at all, unless we had a hideous doctor appointment. Or a triathlon. But mostly no babysitters.
I see the babysitter issue as a symptom, not a cure. And symptoms, okay, well we’ve got them. Frustration. Ennui. Anger that all family members are not thanking me daily for a) washing the dishes; b) folding the laundry; and c) keeping them alive by feeding them 3 times a day. And the babysitter thing. A grocery list of symptoms. An issue that needs addressing. Caring for oneself. What that means.
I address this issue thusly: I exercise 30-90 minutes almost every day. I sew at least once every 3 weeks. I take a picture every day. I write blog entries. I go on Flickr.
Okay, even I can see that’s a pathetic list. Better than some of you, perhaps, but lacking a certain je ne sais quoi. And some of your are laughing. Or pitying me. Thing is, I can’t seem to find a way out of this. And honestly a lot of my inability to leave the children in order to “take care of myself” has to do with the fact that two of them are adopted, and they’ve already had one or two big abandonments in their short lives, and I just can’t add on to that. I understand that my thinking is somewhat convoluted and obtuse and I’m not stating my case very well and most everyone in my life is pretty certain that I am Just. Plain. Wrong. about this. I understand that. And I accept it. I know that some of you are thinking OBJECT PERMANENCE! and I know I haven’t even gotten to the whole leave-come back-leave-come back argument, although I do think about it quite a bit. Thing is, I’ve got some more work to do before I can act on any of it.
And the thing is, today there is no denouement. There is no plan. Today there is no end to this entry.

Posted by grrlTravels on March 16, 2010
in Life, isn't it glorious? | Comments Off

March 8, 2010

we aren’t savants. ever.



Today Z. had her first ice skating lesson.
Today Z. had her first ice skating lesson because I am trying very hard not to be the kind of parent I am. That is to say, I am trying very hard not to be the overprotective freaky mother that I think I might already be. I really don’t want to be the mom wrapping the bubble wrap around and around, packing tape at the ready, or cutting the steak of the 16-year-old with a butter knife, or telling my soon-to-be-30 child how to mow the lawn without inadvertently removing a toe or two. Or requiring a blood transfusion. Or losing an eye. I’m just saying.
So when K. said that maybe Z. could try along with the boys I swallowed the 28 reasons that rose immediately in my throat as to why it was a bad idea and said, “Ok.” We drove to the rink, paid our money, got her some skates, and sent her on to the ice.
I was kind of secretly hoping that she would turn out to be an ice skating savant. You know, we’d put the ice skates on her and tie them up nice and tight and she would glide out on the ice and never look back. I’ve been waiting patiently for the savantness to show up in our family, for someone to be very, very, intensely good at something.
Z. and ice skating are not the answer to my savant dreams.
Does it matter that she was very wobbly, that her ankles went every which way, that she fell and cried, cried and fell, that in the end she turned into a huge blotchy teary messy mess? On the one hand it matters quite a lot, and then again it matters The Very Most It Could Matter. But she did it. And I did it.
Now I’m all conflicted about what to do at the next class and I feel rather more protective about Z. than I did 4 hours ago but I took the first step in letting her go and I’m going to remember what this feels like.
For the next time.

Posted by grrlTravels on March 8, 2010
in Motherhood | 4 Comments

February 26, 2010

it’s Friday and it’s snowing. again.

E.:
“Mom, there’s lasers in my toes…”
“What?”
“There’s lasers in my toes and I’m trying to shoot them at Z. but there isn’t lasers in my toes so even if I’m trying to shoot them at her I’m not, right?”
“Right.”
Z.:
Has taken to calling me “Baby Louise”. A lot. Most of the time. When she isn’t calling me Baby Louise she calls me Butterfly, like such:
“Face forward, Butterfly!” (We say this to her when she’s eating her yogurt, and she says it back to us.)
“Me here, Butterfly!”
“Me mad, Butterfly!”
Butterfly is not a happy, lilting name; it’s always spoken in a stern or angry voice.

K. says to Z. “How did you get so sweet? Are you made of sugar?”
Z. smiles. “No,” she says, “me made of yogurt.”
I ask her again and she again confirms she’s made of yogurt. Which is essentially true, when you think about it.

Posted by grrlTravels on February 26, 2010
in Motherhood | 2 Comments

February 22, 2010

ISO one gazillion causes marital strife



You know those times when you decide to do something which you know is going to turn out to be a huge PITA at some point and may make your spouse hate you just a little more but you can’t stop yourself because you’re feeling really compulsive and so you just do it anyway? I thought you might.
That would be me, K. and 365. I would never have known about 365 if it wasn’t for Flickr. [Flickr has informed and shaped my photography habits rather more than I think is actually healthy or good for me and sometimes I think I must give it up or step away for a bit but I love it so much that I can't.] Ok, so on Flickr there are hordes of people who undertake a project to take a photo every day for a year, and these projects are commonly referred to as “365s”. So far, so good. The idea behind the project is to improve your photography skillz by having your camera in your hand, day in, day out, noticing light, seeking out photos, thinking photography. Reasonable, right? Makes sense?
In 2009 I decided to try 365. On day 197 I fell asleep before I took my photo and the air went out of it for me. I tried to keep going, I tried to start over, but what I actually did was leave Flickr for almost 6 months. If I was the type who could let things go I would have just finished the thing last year, missing days and all. I am decidedly not that type. In fact I drove myself and poor K. crazy over my daily shots which had to be good and beautiful and thoughtful and liked by others and a whole other list of criteria which cumulatively certifies me as insane.
Sadly the idea popped up again this December because I can’t find any online classes that I want to take and I can’t spend my weekends traveling to workshops and I have neither the time nor the money to go to grad school. I chewed on it for a bit and then I said something to K. like “Soooooo… [longish pause during which K. thought I fell asleep] I was thinking I might think about doing 365 again,” that last part whispered to make it less…stupid. K. immediately recoiled in horror and spat at me, “I’m going to need to start a support group!” I think the next thing he said was “Are you crazy?”
K. is a much lovelier person than I and the next day he said to me, “I think you should do it. I think it’s good for you,” and even though he rolled his eyes I knew he had given me his blessing. I love him for that, because I know that I’m going to whine at him, throw my usual meltdowns in his general vicinity, and fling my neuroses in his face at awkward moments. He knows it too.
Thank you, K. I appreciate the support and the kindness and even the eye rolling. And I apologize for my wild-eyed rant about how we live in a cave with zero good light and how it’s too wintery here and I’m especially ashamed about that last little bit about ISO one gazillion.

Posted by grrlTravels on February 22, 2010
in A hobby here, a hobby there | 2 Comments

February 21, 2010

if not for the zippers



First
E. and I had our belt tests yesterday. Not only was I sick but I had gotten my period* and my period is a big, bloody mess these days. Hello premenopause! So I floated through the test in a haze of Tylenol Severe Sinus, blood, sweat,** snot, tampons, and fear.
For the “combination kicks***” part of the test I was matched with a snippy little 14-year-old who almost kicked me in the head about 12 times and did actually step on my foot. He gave me vintage 14-year-old dirty looks of the you-are-such-an-old-lady type which in my panicked state I completely ignored. I was also paired with him during the “one steps****” and we were right in front of the table behind which was sitting the master. This was not a happy moment for me. Master Yi spent most of the time glancing around and staring at his large black binder and only asked me to redo one thing (twice).
When it came time for the board breaking I was feeling all satisfied with myself because the first board break is (naturally) the easiest and I felt ready for it. Uh huh. Except they don’t bring out the teensy little extremely thin balsa wood boards for the adults like they do for the kids. Our boards are disturbingly thicker.***** I broke it on my first attempt thankfully.
I am not quite officially a yellow belt yet because the belts do not come in for a week or two. But I am semi-officially no longer a white belt, and I didn’t cry at all during the test. I get to check off one of my “resolutions” which isn’t really fair because I knew that I would get my yellow belt no problem. You need a couple of gimmes in the resolution game I suppose.
E. glided through his test like I knew he would.
Second
If not for the zippers I would be completely finished with Christmas 2009 right now. I was all ready to go today and I sat and cut out my fabric and started my laborious sewing thought processes and then realized that I had no zippers of the correct length. argh. As it stands I am approximately 2 hours of sewing away from saying goodbye to Christmas. Then I can move on to my good friend’s birthday which was on Valentine’s Day.
Third
The winner of the give-away is KelliAmanda! I shall email you posthaste.
Next month’s give-away is going to be themed around my favorite things (favorite smallish, inexpensive type things) because March is my birthday month and it is therefore all about me. I need to start working on a list of smallish, inexpensive things that I love. I shall put that list on my list of stuff to do. Perhaps I’ll make a list of my lists of lists. Then I shall be very organized while I accomplish next to nothing.
*I have no good euphemism for this–you would think I would by now. The closest I get is when I txt my lucky friend M. and say “The Eagle Has Landed” in my most mysterious voice, except she doesn’t get the voice because, well, I’m txting her.
**When there are lots of guests Master Yi turns up the heat. And then it is too hot.
***I have no combination kicks. I have only a few single kicks, and it takes me upwards of a minute to actually get ready to kick. Which is a really, really, really long time in karate-years. It’s like 500 karate-years.
****I can’t begin to explain these to you because I don’t really know what they are. Preset defense patterns. I. Loathe. Them.
*****Although I think they are still pretty balsa-woodsy. Of course not so balsa-woodsy that they don’t hurt. They do. Hurt. More than I thought they would. I’m already dreading the elbow break in 10 weeks. I also think that the black belts helpfully attempt to snap them when you hit them. But that’s just a guess.

Posted by grrlTravels on February 21, 2010
in Blogging | 1 Comment

February 18, 2010

crushing



I’ve been putting off writing about karate because when I talk about karate these days I tend to be gushy. However my very first belt test is looming and the nervous tension is dampening the gushing enough to talk a little.
I love karate. Surprisingly. Oddly. Passionately. Karate is cool. Karate is tough. Karate is exercise, but it’s exercise that makes you think, hard, while you are sweating. It is simultaneously aerobic, contemplative, challenging, and graceful (not for me—I remain clunky). Eeeeeeek! Karate!
I’ve been floating along on my cloud of love for karate for 3 months. I’m all junior high-ish and squealy and giddy on Tuesdays and Thursdays, primping in the morning with lip gloss and hoping my zits aren’t that noticeable. (Mind and Body Control; Ki Hap, Breathing, Coordination, Balance, Attitude, Concentration, Respect) Hi Karate! *swoons*
Gradually through my fog of flustered ardor emerged a great new nervousness about my first belt test and I started getting all anxious and weird and worried about minutia. One day I talked to the instructor about it for so long that I was late to school to pick Z. up. I briefly considered ending my liaison with karate and finding another method of stretching out my ridiculously tight muscles. But I couldn’t turn my back on karate. (Tang Soo Do Is Way Of Life)
Finally the instructor explained to me that if the master gives you a form to take the belt test that it basically means that you have already passed because he and the instructor have seen you do everything you need to do during class. I got the slip the other day and I handed it back with my cash (no personal checks) today. (I hereby summit my application for GUP promotion test to the International Martial Arts Association.) So that should have made me feel better, right? Right.
But the thing is, I’m still nervous. It’s like being asked to the dance which is all good until you have to show up and actually dance in front of people. There’s lots of people at the test (Bring 2 friends to witness your test), including K., who has never seen me in action, and E., who breezed through his first test with the unaware breeziness of youth and will do the same on Saturday morning (9 am). There are strangers watching, and the fact that I’m being tested on my admittedly pathetic karate, and the pressure. According to the master pressure is part of the test, and performing under pressure is part of karate. (Our Goal Is To Be Best Black Belt!) I so HATE karate!
Except that I adore karate. I’m in, karate, hook, line and sinker. Love me, karate, love me back!
I expect that on Saturday I will complete Gi Cho Hyung Il Bu (regular and mirror) and not screw up too badly on the Il Soo Sik Dae Ryun (right) and break the board with a hammer punch and that I will avoid some sort of major eighth grade traumatic hissy fit in the middle of the test. (Two of the women in my class have admitted to me that they have cried during belt tests.) I expect to be a yellow belt on Saturday. I expect the nervousness to evaporate and the full on gushiness to return. I expect to love karate even more.

Posted by grrlTravels on February 18, 2010
in A hobby here, a hobby there | 3 Comments