A small vent (or- blogging while sick)

Yesterday I was lucky enough to cook a birthday dinner for both my mother and grandmother. Mom turned 60 last Sunday and Grandma turned 88 today. I seem to have picked up Chris's virus so I didn't do much eating, but everyone else seemed to enjoy the food. We had a pretty good time. It amazes me that both of these vibrant women have reached the ages they are. Neither one looks her age.

In the course of the evening I showed Mom the fabric I'm using for Christine's quilt (on hold until I feel a bit better). Mom (for the second time in a month) wanted to know why I've made all these quilts for everyone except her. I tried giving her the same answer I used last weekend, "Don't ask questions," but it didn't go over well. Now she tells me that not only do I owe her a quilt, I have to let her approve the fabric. She doesn't want it "flowery."

First off, I have not made very many quilts. I made one for Chris, Miranda, Sam, Jake, Sophie, James, Pat, and I have a finished (but not sandwiched) top for Dave's Grandma Dirikson (sp?). I also made a baby quilt for my friend Jennifer and now I'm working on one for Christine. In the grand scheme of things- that is not a whole lot of quilts. Pat had surgery last fall and I wanted to make a quilt for her to enjoy during her recovery. Grandma Dirikson is always very kind to us- and she's not getting any younger! We've never sent her presents and rarely get to Burley to visit. A quilt is my way of letting her know we appreciate her.

My mother lives close enough I can see her house. Occasionally (like last weekend) we travel to rabbit shows together. I always buy or make her something for Christmas and her birthday. She is not generous with her time or affection. Before Sam was born she babysat Chris twice. After Sam's birth (6/22/2004) she's taken Chris for a few hours here and there 3 or 4 days during the year. She has never spent time alone with Sam or Jake. I'm not saying that my mother isn't a lovely person with many admirable traits- she's just not someone who makes me feel a deep gratitude for the help and comfort she brings to me and my family throughout the year. She does let me steal frozen pigs and rabbits out of her freezer when I need them for dissection. She also lets us borrow her pickup if we need it and bring it back full of gas. If the kids want to go visit and look at rabbits, or pygmy goats, or play with the donkey she'll let them... as long as they bring an adult and don't mind if she spends the time on her computer instead of playing.

I do have plans to make a quilt for Mom. I've been collecting fabric for a couple of years now. There still isn't enough fabric for her quilt. I have no intention of letting her choose what I'm making or the pattern I'll be following. That's not how the quilt giving works in my house. I make what I want you to have. You accept it and act pleased. If someone wishes to pay me for my time and effort then they can choose their own fabrics and tell me how they'd like the quilt finished. Otherwise, smile- nod- don't ask questions.

Family Happenings

It's past time for a new post and I have nothing controversial or meaningful to say. Failing that I thought I'd fill you in our family happenings.

Dave's work is slow again and so he's been home more. Thank goodness he was home this morning since our sink wouldn't drain and he saved us the expense of hiring a plumber by taking the drain apart himself. I have now been lectured about running the water longer when I run greens and egg shells down the garbage disposal.

Chris was sick all day yesterday and bugged me all day about how he got sick, why he got sick, what exactly the sick was, etc., etc. Today he's back in good form and talking about horses and goats and rabbits.

We dropped Sam back to two days of preschool a week. He attends Tues. and Thurs. After spending a year and a half complaining about how much he dislikes school- he's now mad at me for decreasing his hours. I made the mistake this morning of asking him whether he wants to go to the local public school for kindergarden or if he'd like to be homeschooled. Now he's really irritated because he tells me he wants to go to the school he attends now- which only goes through 4yr old preschool. Poor kid. He just can't win.

Jake tells me he missed me very much when I took the older boys to school today. He stayed home and helped Dad fix the sink, but he wasn't impressed with the process. Chris told him that Bunny is gone forever (although the toy is not gone at all) and Jake replied, "That's too bad, I will miss her." He's got such a funny, mature voice sometimes.

Baby Teeth

Today Chris had his first dental x-rays, his first novacaine shot, his first nitrous oxide, and his first two teeth pulled. Hopefully they'll be the last teeth he has to have pulled, but we won't know for a while. Last Thursday, while eating an apple, Chris called out, "Oh no! My tooth hurts! I have a cavity! I need to go to the dentist!"

When I looked in his mouth it was plain to see that he had more teeth in there than he should. His adult lower, central incisors were coming up- behind his baby teeth! Luckily we couldn't get in until this morning. We had 4 days to talk about what to expect at the dentist's office. Chris was excited to see the dentist! He really likes him- which is a very good thing.

My one criticism of the dentist's office is that this is the second time Chris has been seen within the past few months. Every time I call I remind the receptionist that Chris has Asperger's Syndrome. I put it on his paperwork during the first visit. Normally I do not immediately tell people he's on the autism spectrum. It feels wrong to tell people to expect him to act differently, and so I usually try to help him transition into new situations without alerting everyone surrounding us that he is "different." However, the dentist is one person who REALLY NEEDS TO KNOW! Chris needs more time to get used to new ideas. He needs more explanation of what is going to happen. He needs to get into the office and have things happen- not wait several days or weeks and then return.

I need to be present if new stuff (like x-rays) are being done. It's not just me being overprotective- you will not get a readable x-ray if I'm not there to keep him calm and tell him what to expect. The dental assistant telling him to hold as still as possible (in her cute, friendly voice) is not going to hold him. His mother saying, "The machine will move around your head, it will make a funny noise, and if you move the x-rays won't work," will hold him still. Once I took the dentist aside and asked if there was a note in his file regarding the Asperger's (there wasn't- even though I told the receptionist about it when I called this time too) they were better about letting me help. Are most parents really such a liability that the staff should keep them away?

It also bugs me that it has to be brought up when Chris is present. There should be some discreet way of discussing the issue before we arrive at the office (for instance- when I call and tell the receptionist he has Asperger's Syndrome). Chris should think he's normal, or at least as normal as any individual with his family can be. How will he ever feel as if he fits in if he mentally catagorizes himself as something disordered? Asperger's Syndrome is not who Chris is. It's an interesting fact about him- like he's blond. I hate having to bring it up- but there are times when the information really is relevant and helpful (like when you're about to pull his teeth).

Happy Presidents Day!

I have a kind and wonderful husband who let me sleep in this morning...until 7:30. He had very good intentions, but then he went to the bathroom. At that point Chris came into my room (loudly) and proclaimed that since I told him he had to continue reading every day in order to keep his new horse- he was there to read! I thought about sending him back out of my room. I thought about putting him off until I had my glasses (and clothes) on. In the end, I patted the bed next to me and told him to go ahead.

Today is President's Day and I thought we'd take the day off (which isn't unusual since we're really unschooling types). I walked into the kitchen. There they were- my precious offspring- eating bagels and wiping melted butter all over the table. Ahhh, it was a sight to warm a mother's heart (or make her think seriously about getting up earlier so that she can control the meal making and clean up mess as it happens).

As we were eating our bagels Chris started asking questions about his ancestors. He was fascinated to find out that some of his Anderson ancestors were pioneers (I have no idea how the subject came up). Of course, he didn't really know what pioneers are or how they're different from people who move into new areas today.

We've recently been exploring medieval Europe so Chris did understand a bit about fuedalism. Over breakfast we talked about how much unclaimed land there would have been in the United States outside of the original 13 colonies. We spoke of the hope for land ownership that would have driven most immigrants to commit to the long journey by ship into America. Then we learned about the pioneers who moved even further from civilization in search of large tracts of land they could farm and then own- all through the merits of their own hard labor.

In looking up the Homestead Act I found that it was signed into law by Pres. Abraham Lincoln during the Civil War. We also talked about the Civil War (but not in depth) and the freeing of the slaves. We learned that the Homestead Act was still active in Alaska until 1986. There were 170 million acres homesteaded in the United States.

Today is a holiday. It is now 9:04 am. We're taking the day off.

Uncertain Expectations

“The best things in life are unexpected - because there were no expectations.”
Eli Khamarov

Last week my Great-Aunt Mary passed away in Rupert. My memories of her are few and dim. What I do remember is that she always was kind, seemed happy, and took time to acknowledge everyone around her and make them feel special. She was also a very good cook. If that's all people remember of me when I am almost 98 years old- the sum of my life can't be too bad!

Aunt Mary is the older sister of my Grandmother Loucks (Dad's mother).

As a child it was one of my greatest wishes that my grandmother would be kind, happy and acknowledge me when I was in her presence. When I was six I realized that I'd been at Aunt Kitty's for half a day and in the same room with Grandma- and she'd never even smiled or waved at me. Being kind of a strange six year old I decided to wait until she looked like she wanted to talk to me to go say hi.

That time, when she looked approachable to me, did not come that day. I abided by that choice (to wait to seek her out until she looked welcoming) for the next six years. In those six years I did not speak to my grandmother- not because I was ignoring her, but because I was waiting. No one, except me, seemed to notice.

There are some fabulous women in my father's family. I don't remember my father. He died when I was 22 months old. His sisters Kitty and Barb have children born the same year I was. My aunts were always welcoming and went out of their way to include me in family events. My Uncle George also went out of his way to include me and get to know me. If it weren't for the three of them I most likely would have been forgotten and everyone's life would have been more peaceful.

The (hmmm... I have a hard time finding the right word here. Is it rift? Absence? Unfriendliness?) difficulty I had forming a relationship with my Grandmother began to color my expectations of every family event and my hurt feelings had to have affected the way I interacted with everyone else. By the time I was twelve it was an easy leap of logic for me to believe that I truly wasn't needed in the Loucks family and most certainly my presence was wanted by very few of my family members. Although I did have plenty of experiences that led me to believe what I did, my own expectation of failure (in this arena) certainly contributed. Teenage girls are not joys to be around. Teen age girls who think they have reason to feel slighted are just that much worse.

Isn't maturity a wonderful thing (hope I attain it someday!). By the time I was out on my own and had formed some amazing friendships (and eventually a marriage) it was easier to believe that perhaps the difficulties with my grandmother weren't because I was such a very hard person to love. By the time I had my first child it occurred to me that perhaps the absence of affection wasn't even intentional. After the birth of the third child I was pretty certain that my grandmother could not possibly have enough time on her hands to even spend more than a passing thought on me at all. The woman did give birth to 11 children- and nine of them are still alive.

I almost forgot Jake's birthday this year! He's only three- and I have only three children! What would it take to keep track of and spend personal time with more than three times that many children? By this year, I truly believed Grandma's inaction in relation to me was more of benevolent sort of forgetfulness. And- well- I am an adult now- and grandma has been very welcoming every time she's seen me the past 8 years (all three of the times).

In the end, I did not pursue a relationship for a number of reasons. Blood binds us together but it doesn't give us a shared past or an affinity for each other's company. I don't know her- and she does not know me. It's awkward getting to know someone new and when the fear of failure is strong - because I've failed in this same arena many times in the past- the reward has to be weighed against the risks. I am 34 years old this year and can admit that I have given up any sort of expectations when it comes to my father's family, largely because I would need to carry at least half the responsibility and I am tired.

I am tired of trying to meet other people's expectations of me. I am tired of pursuing relationships, whether friends or family, that are not equal and reciprocal. I am tired of worrying and wondering. I am tired of fearing failure and spending energy on things that, in the final analysis, aren't really very important to me. I am tired of being a perpetual teenager.

I am a grown up and it is within my abilities to choose the people I want to spend my time and energy on. It is my choice whether to spend my time on any relationship. It is also my responsibility to care for my husband and children and provide a safe, welcoming environment for them to grow strong and wise. Any choice I make that affects my physical, mental, or emotional well being has to be weighed in relation to it's effect on that responsibility.

I wrote most of my father's family off. They are off my radar and it has been quite peaceful in the corner of my mind that is labeled, "family." Relationships I never had can't be mourned or worried about. If they didn't like me when I was 2 then it isn't my responsibility to try and convince them to like me now. I don't know them, they don't know me. Although we are related we certainly don't need to have a deeper connection. Life is full and busy around our house.

All of this writing (some of it pure drivel) has been leading up to this- My grandmother reached out at her sister's funeral. She invited me to her home (which is a whole 25 minutes or so from mine). She gifted me with an afgan and was hoping to find a photo album she thought I'd like to have with pictures of me and my Dad. Most shocking of all- she told me she'd been missing me- and it was a bit emotional for both of us.

Uncle George and Mom were there (we'd ridden to the funeral together) and we stayed and visited for quite a while. It was awkward but it was good. Grandma showed me pictures of all her great grandchildren and I promised to bring my sons to visit her soon.

It is such a strange thing that when you give up expectations amazing things can, and often do, occur. I no longer hurt because I seemed doomed to only have 5 grandmothers in my children's lives (Truly- 5 grandmas before Grandma Loucks). My heart was filled with joy because we have the opportunity to know 5 amazing women who are our progenitors. My husband has two truly lovely sisters my children have relationships with (as well as a brother, his dad, and the spouses of his siblings). Blessing after blessing has been showered upon my little family. And now, when I wasn't looking for it, we have regained a sixth grandma.

Life is strange, though wonderful. I'd closed that chapter in my book. Now it looks as if there may be more pages to write in the history of our hearts about the Loucks family. It's awkward, but there is promise here.

Is this information relevant?

Last Monday I took Chris to see a pediatric developmental specialist, one of three people in the valley reputed to be accurate at diagnosing autism spectrum disorders. Before the appointment we received several different questionnaires to fill out and return. Chris's school (where he still goes for speech therapy) sent in their own battery of tests and assessments. Everything had to be back to the office at least one week before the appointment. Since we scheduled back in June to take the first available appointment (yes, it was November 3) there weren't many problems completing our paperwork in time.

The doctor spent about 15 minutes interviewing Chris and me and then he looked at his little computer, cleared his throat and said, "Well it looks like Asperger's, although it could be a Pervasive Developmental Disorder, Not Otherwise Specified. Asperger's by definition is not diagnosed when language delay is present..." To which I said, "Speech and language are different things and Chris has never had issues processing language, just forming sounds."

It was all very civil. After making his pronouncement the doctor asked if I had any questions. Of course I did (shocking, no?). I asked about homeschool versus public school. He said it was a personal choice and he didn't have an opinion. I asked about social interaction. He told me that usually he recommended that school was a good place to learn social skills but he understood we were from Nampa... and some schools are better than others when it comes to dealing with developmental disorders.

Hmmm. Isn't it interesting that even the medical community in Boise has heard that Nampa schools are not the greatest? I sit here laughing because I can not count the number of times I've said something to the effect of, "I'd keep Chris in school if we lived in Meridian or Kuna..." It's not that I don't have a great appreciation for the teachers and therapists Chris and Sam have worked with in the Nampa School District. I love them all. To a person they have been kind, caring, compassionate, well educated, and hemmed in by the quirky policies of the Nampa School District.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if we could just do away with the entire district hierarchy, leaving only the principals and school faculty and staff in place? If that ever came to pass I'd seriously consider re-enrolling Chris in the elemenary school. His IEP team last year recommended that we pursue the option of dual enrollment. He could learn the academic subjects at home where he's less distracted and better able to focus. He could go to school for the part of the day "specials" are taught and do his speech therapy, p.e. (always important, don't you think?), art, music, library, and computer lab. It sounded like the best of both worlds. He'd still get the social interaction (which is only so very important if you have a social disorder) and he'd get to experience some subjects on a scale that I'm really not able to reproduce at home (my form of p.e. is to put in the YogaKids video).

Then the school year started. His therapist reluctantly told me that the district has changed it's policies for this year. Chris would qualify for speech therapy if we used a service plan and said he was enrolled in private school (which homeschool is). Chris could also have dual enrollment and attend specials. He could not be dual enrolled and keep his speech therapy. Does that make any sense to anybody?

The therapist has been working on finding a compromise ever since. On Wed. the psycologist who was on our IEP team recommended I call the district office and start asking questions (I've been pretty passive since I really feed off the energy generated by confrontation... it's a bit addictive so I try to avoid it all together). I called. The lady in charge of special education told me that we'd need to form a 504 team and that if that team determined speech therapy was needed they could write it into the 504 plan (a 504 simply outlines any special accomodations that need to be made within the classroom for the time a student is present in class). Interesting, no? So I called our SLP and passed the info I recieved onto her. She said that is not what the district's been telling her and if they're willing to bend this far she'll confirm as soon as possible and try to get Chris dual enrolled as soon as possible.

So, back to my initial question. Is the diagnosis we recieved on Monday relevant information? I expected that once we had (or did not have) a diagnosis everything would change. And it didn't. The doctor did give me some ideas for curriculum to try and websites to visit to purchase curriculum well suited to children with Asperger's. He told us that Chris seemed to be doing well and to continue with what we're doing and check in again in six months.

It took a long time for me to be willing to go through the testing and get a diagnosis. I was so worried that my child would be labeled and people (especially teachers) would look at him differently. Now that we're homeschooling that doesn't seem to be much of an issue. It also took this long for me to realize the most important consideration when it came to diagnosing my son... a diagnosis doesn't change who his is. He wasn't broken before we had a name to call his quirky traits. He isn't broken now that we do have a name for those silly tendencies like fascination with smells and rabbits.

In essence, nothing has changed since last Monday. There are not a slew of new ideas or people running to show us how to "deal" with this unique child. He's doing well. I guess we'll keep doing what we've been doing... which is loving him and praising him and cherishing him for all the things that make him unique and special. Wouldn't everybody love to have someone in their house with a map of their surrounding permanently imprinted on their brain? Shouldn't we all take time to really smell the flowers (and rain, and wood shavings, and kitchen spices, and crayons, and...)?

My beef with the public school system

More than 100 years ago Maria Montessori got it right. She believed that children learned through spontaneous self-development. If the right environment was provided for children to experience different challenges and learn new skills they would excell in ways that traditional education can't compete with. She also believed that grouping children by major growth periods was better than grouping them by 1 year intervals. In other words she instituted a multi-age, child directed classroom. A study in the Journal of Science in Sept. of 2006 upheld the belief that Montessori educated children do better academically and socially than their peers educated in traditional public schools.

I was a Montessori educated child. I taught myself to read when I was 4. My mother went back to school. She didn't have enough time to spend hours reading to me during the week. It made me mad. So... I showed her! I taught myself to read. Looking back, I'm sure that the hours I spent in school taught me many of the skills I needed to put it all together and really read. The teachers also took turns during the week choosing our language of the day. One teacher spoke Spanish with us, another spoke German, and yet another spoke English. We didn't just learn a few words or phrases of each language; we spent most of the day speaking to our teachers and our friends in whichever language was chosen for that day. Our teachers fostered mental flexibility and taught us to seek challenges rather than boredom.

And therein lies my beef with the public school system. Conformity seems to be the word of the day. If you're different there are all sorts of interventions the school's willing to help you with in order to make you more normal. If a student is falling behind the class there is help available to assist them with catching up. It's all very nice and seems to be in the students best interest but what I see is that the final result is to make everybody the same.

We are not all the same and it is damaging to believe we should be. I was an advanced student. That should be a good thing, right? In reality it was horrible. Being advanced meant that I got to do the same kind of homework for weeks while the rest of the class caught up. Hours worth of busy work, no challenge except to keep from turning my homework into paper airplanes and sailing them out the classroom door. In the beginning I loved school. By the time I graduated I was skipping more days than I attended. Of course, I was advanced so I manipulated the system so that most of the skipped days were school excused, but the reality is that I attended only 80 days of my senior year. Imagine how much better a student, and how much better a work ethic, would have been developed in an environment that rewarded individuality and provided constant challenge and opportunity for growth.

The school system (at least around here) is broken. It's not the fault of the teachers. They do an amazing job within the guidelines they're given. I believe that each and every person I've encountered in the Nampa School District truly cares about my child and wants to help him. I also believe that if they do get to help him become "more like his typical peers" they'll break him. There's an underlying belief that if we can just get everybody to the same level of (insert something here) the world will be a shiny, happy place and we'll all live happily ever after.

My son is different. He thinks at a different rate of speed, in different directions, and about different subjects than his "typical peers." Different isn't bad. It isn't even less than optimal. It's just different. He isn't broken, we don't need to fix him. We just need to help him learn. Amazingly, spontaneous self-development occurs when you allow a child to pursue his own interests in an environment that's supportive and rich in stimuli. Who would've thought it?

My grandfather, mother, and I are all scientists by education. By trade I'm a mother and dog person. By trade my mother is a microbiologist and my grandfather was a leader in the field of micology and forest pathology. I keep hearing that America is falling behind the pack when it comes to science and math. I'm not sure what education looks like in the countries with the best outcomes in these fields (ooh! research project!!) but I bet it doesn't look like American education today.

Successful scientists question. They don't follow the pack. They are amazing problem solvers. Clear linear thinking is required to insure that the scientific process is followed (and your results are solid). Abstract leaps of logic are required to tackle problems that no one has ever solved before. Einstein was not a normal student. Luckily he found good mentors who helped him in his education while he was still very young. It wasn't the school system that developed Albert's mind and love and learning. It was that amazing ideal espoused by Maria Montessori, spontaneous self-development. What if Einstein were "helped" to fit in better with his peers? Would he have followed the incredible road that led to his many discoveries in the realm of physics? Or would he have worked harder to learn basketball, to dress, and act, and talk like the other kids in his class? Would he have accepted that his classmates were his peers? Or would he have continued his quest for information and understanding that allowed him to meet his true peers?

Conformity makes it easier for those in charge to stay in control. In a school system that lacks parental involvement (even though the school welcomes parents, most don't visit regularly) the teachers either need a new method for teaching or they need the majority of the students to be somewhat similiar in learning styles and needs. Heaven forbid we shake the system up enough to try something like Maria Montessori's education model. A world without grades, the sky would fall!

The Family Quilt

Any quilter will tell you that quilts are most beautiful when a variety of fabrics are pieced together. To the inexperienced eye some of the fabrics may seem boring or plain, others loud and too bright, some downright homely. It may not be readily apparent how such disparate fabrics will ever come together. When joined by loving hands the whole exceeds the sum of the parts.

Families, like quilts, are curious entities. We are born into one family, marry into another, and adopt a few special people along the way. The interesting thing about our many connections is the way all the individuals when joined together form one cohesive unit regardless of race, religion, and like or dislike of chocolate.

We come together to celebrate and to grieve and occasionally just to BBQ. Like threads interwoven families become stronger as joy and trials bind us together. Bonds begun in love strengthen as blood ties are formed by the babies added to our quilt.

Although the individual fabrics are diverse and may seem to clash when viewed independently they all contribute to the work of art that is the complete quilt. Differences when paired with compassion and the ability to appreciate our unique design make the quilt a rich, colorful comfort.

Our family loves us when we are sunshiny and happy or sick and cantankerous. We accept each other and understand that the strength of our family, just like the beauty of the quilt comes from our differences. A quilt made from just one print or color lacks the depth and interest of one pieced from many different fabrics.

Friendships are conditional. We can choose to discontinue an association if things become difficult. Our families may have upsets. Sometimes the seams joining us may pull, but love completes our quilt, running through each square, overlapping our seams, joining the many fabrics, embellishing our family quilt and forming eternal bonds regardless of our differences and delighting in the beautiful masterpiece we form.