Well, the cats are fine and are adjusting to getting their antibiotics. Half the time, I don't even have to hog tie them for it. They're starting to feel better and are behaving like kittens -- chasing strings, carrying toys around, sleeping on us, and wrestling. They're so affectionate toward us that they border on needy. And they've stopped stinking, so it's all good. ;)
Patrick is starting to get math anxiety. He took two hours agonizing over math that took us 7 minutes to actually do. Oy. I've offered a deal -- I'll work on all his math with me if he'll stop freaking out. Just STOP FREAKING OUT.
In other news, well, there is no other news. I vacuumed the house today. Yeah, that's news. ;)
Oh, and I went outdoors this morning and didn't gasp at the heat. Maybe, just maybe, the solar imperative will again push our weather inexorably toward cooler weather. Such as it is, anyway.
Monday, September 28, 2009
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
A balanced life...
Well, the cat still stinks. But The Boy did really well on his "Lesson 20 - Test Day" for his Calvert curriculum. Does that balance out?
We're taking the cats to the vet tomorrow to try to get them to stop sneezing snot all over the water dish and the sliding glass door. But I started The Girl on Mirilax today. Does that balance out? (Expect more on THAT one later in the week!)
I've signed up for two-months-for-the-price-of-one Weight Watchers because it was cheaper than two months of online support. But no one around here will give me enough peace and quiet to work out a menu online. Or to go to a meeting. It's very frustrating. But I did get a new bolt for the toilet so it doesn't rock anymore. Does that balance out?
Tomorrow's Thursday already. That's good. Thursday is YMCA PE day for us, so I pack up The Girl's language curriculum and take off right after lunch. While the boy gets some exercise, I get to educate the general public on autism. Does that balance out?
Funny thing about YMCA PE -- the class has picked up three new boys who are so undisciplined that they make The Boy look like a West Point cadet. He doesn't seem to bring home any of their bad behavior, so that's one in the "good" column.
Oy vey, it's midnight and I'm still not in bed. But The Girl is still in her own bed, unlike last night. (I insisted on taking her back to bed every time she wandered into my room last night and started a major riot. It did not make me a popular person, to say the least.) But she's quiet now, so that's good. Gotta run!!
We're taking the cats to the vet tomorrow to try to get them to stop sneezing snot all over the water dish and the sliding glass door. But I started The Girl on Mirilax today. Does that balance out? (Expect more on THAT one later in the week!)
I've signed up for two-months-for-the-price-of-one Weight Watchers because it was cheaper than two months of online support. But no one around here will give me enough peace and quiet to work out a menu online. Or to go to a meeting. It's very frustrating. But I did get a new bolt for the toilet so it doesn't rock anymore. Does that balance out?
Tomorrow's Thursday already. That's good. Thursday is YMCA PE day for us, so I pack up The Girl's language curriculum and take off right after lunch. While the boy gets some exercise, I get to educate the general public on autism. Does that balance out?
Funny thing about YMCA PE -- the class has picked up three new boys who are so undisciplined that they make The Boy look like a West Point cadet. He doesn't seem to bring home any of their bad behavior, so that's one in the "good" column.
Oy vey, it's midnight and I'm still not in bed. But The Girl is still in her own bed, unlike last night. (I insisted on taking her back to bed every time she wandered into my room last night and started a major riot. It did not make me a popular person, to say the least.) But she's quiet now, so that's good. Gotta run!!
Monday, September 21, 2009
Long weekend...
Well, what a busy three days it has been. I've been through a major fit of "Why me?" combined with "God, I'm tired of being a continual public spectacle." Yeah, it was a long weekend. Can you say "cub scout awards dinner"? ;) WHADDYA MEAN IT'S ONLY BEEN TWO DAYS?!
I'm seriously considering trying The Girl on Sertraline. What the heck -- the rest of us are on it, so why not? Seriously -- the apparent terror, the clutching at her ears, the reeling and staggering, the immediate request to go home or to the bathroom. It doesn't matter where we are. If it isn't a place she's been to before, you can forget it. I'm not sure when the cutoff was, but there seems to have been one.
She has a love/hate relationship with church. For some reason, she likes going to Children's Church, even though all she does is hide on a couch for 45 minutes, but church holds such horrors for her that she won't even go past the lobby. Fortunately (NOT!) the rector's lapel microphone is piped directly into the lobby. If she would stay home, I would let her, but her compulsions drive her on...
Where does this all end?
I'm seriously considering trying The Girl on Sertraline. What the heck -- the rest of us are on it, so why not? Seriously -- the apparent terror, the clutching at her ears, the reeling and staggering, the immediate request to go home or to the bathroom. It doesn't matter where we are. If it isn't a place she's been to before, you can forget it. I'm not sure when the cutoff was, but there seems to have been one.
She has a love/hate relationship with church. For some reason, she likes going to Children's Church, even though all she does is hide on a couch for 45 minutes, but church holds such horrors for her that she won't even go past the lobby. Fortunately (NOT!) the rector's lapel microphone is piped directly into the lobby. If she would stay home, I would let her, but her compulsions drive her on...
Where does this all end?
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Requiem Aeternum, Harry. Poor baby.
Well, Harry didn't make it. He turned up half-dead on the back porch Saturday morning. The animal hospital tested him and told us that his kidneys were completely gone. Poor little guy. We had to let him go. The Boy and I bawled like babies for the rest of the day, and I was so incredibly puffy-eyed that I skipped church on Sunday, lest they think The Husband had been beating me.
We decided that we really missed having creatures underfoot, and went to "look at" the cats in the animal shelter on Sunday afternoon. Yeah. You saw it coming, didn't you? We are now the owners of two mostly-grown matching cats:
We still miss Harry terribly. The Boy started crying this evening. "These cats make me think of Harry!" Poor thing. But these are apparently lap cats and don't bite, so they're already two steps ahead of poor Harry. But for pure spastic joy, you just couldn't beat Harry.
I did find out the hard way not to shampoo that one on the left, though. The one on the right complained but didn't fight too much. (Hey, they smelled of nasty animal pee from the shelter -- I had no choice!) Anyway, the short version of the story is that I dropped him from about seven feet off the ground because that was as far from my face as I could hold him. But everyone's dry now and most of the bleeding has stopped, so I should toddle off to bed. Long day tomorrow.
We decided that we really missed having creatures underfoot, and went to "look at" the cats in the animal shelter on Sunday afternoon. Yeah. You saw it coming, didn't you? We are now the owners of two mostly-grown matching cats:
We still miss Harry terribly. The Boy started crying this evening. "These cats make me think of Harry!" Poor thing. But these are apparently lap cats and don't bite, so they're already two steps ahead of poor Harry. But for pure spastic joy, you just couldn't beat Harry.
I did find out the hard way not to shampoo that one on the left, though. The one on the right complained but didn't fight too much. (Hey, they smelled of nasty animal pee from the shelter -- I had no choice!) Anyway, the short version of the story is that I dropped him from about seven feet off the ground because that was as far from my face as I could hold him. But everyone's dry now and most of the bleeding has stopped, so I should toddle off to bed. Long day tomorrow.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Harry, wherever he may be
Our cat is missing. He went out yesterday morning at his usual 5:00 but didn't come back in at his usual 5:30. In fact, he didn't come back at all. Uuuuuugh. My sweet little cat. What, oh what am I going to tell The Boy.
We brought this cat home at 12 weeks old. The kids screamed in terror every time they saw him for two full weeks. Just as I was about to give up on him, The Boy realized that he played tag. He's also a fool for anything whippy and feathered. His favorite toy was a plain blue cotton catnip mouse. I've seen him poking through the bin of cat toys to find just the toy he wanted. At a year and a half old, he was still playing with fuzzy toys tied to door knobs with elastic cord.
If it seems like I keep switching from present tense to past and back, it's because I still hope he's okay. Maybe someone took him in, thinking he was homeless. I put up signs on the mailboxes. Maybe he strayed into the woods behind the house and got injured. I hunted down the address, name, and phone number of the house behind us and called. I asked the neighbors. I searched the ditches around the house. Nothing. The little thing just vanished.
Oh dear. It's not like he's a terribly affectionate cat. He wasn't the type to sit on a lap or worship. He tended to stalk, grab, and lick. We think he was weaned too young and not socialized, but my dad found him in the shrubs, and he was ours. He pet-broke my kids. He amused them. He did keep us company many an evening. But he treads softly on this Earth and on our hearts, leaving just faint prints.
This morning, The Boy was already saying, "Can we get a gray cat now?" But now, late at night, he's woken me with, "Mom? I'm worried about Harry." Oh dear. I assured him that Harry is one of God's little creatures, and he'll be okay. But secretly, I'm not sure he's coming home to us.
We brought this cat home at 12 weeks old. The kids screamed in terror every time they saw him for two full weeks. Just as I was about to give up on him, The Boy realized that he played tag. He's also a fool for anything whippy and feathered. His favorite toy was a plain blue cotton catnip mouse. I've seen him poking through the bin of cat toys to find just the toy he wanted. At a year and a half old, he was still playing with fuzzy toys tied to door knobs with elastic cord.
If it seems like I keep switching from present tense to past and back, it's because I still hope he's okay. Maybe someone took him in, thinking he was homeless. I put up signs on the mailboxes. Maybe he strayed into the woods behind the house and got injured. I hunted down the address, name, and phone number of the house behind us and called. I asked the neighbors. I searched the ditches around the house. Nothing. The little thing just vanished.
Oh dear. It's not like he's a terribly affectionate cat. He wasn't the type to sit on a lap or worship. He tended to stalk, grab, and lick. We think he was weaned too young and not socialized, but my dad found him in the shrubs, and he was ours. He pet-broke my kids. He amused them. He did keep us company many an evening. But he treads softly on this Earth and on our hearts, leaving just faint prints.
This morning, The Boy was already saying, "Can we get a gray cat now?" But now, late at night, he's woken me with, "Mom? I'm worried about Harry." Oh dear. I assured him that Harry is one of God's little creatures, and he'll be okay. But secretly, I'm not sure he's coming home to us.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Spoke too soon... ;)
The boy is still working on his math. And *I* get his computer time. Bwaaa-haa-haaa! I love this plan!
Every now and then, I get a whining noise from the work area, but when I ask if he needs help, he says no. He's up to "I'm such a loser." I keep telling him, "No, you just put your work off too long."
Today was the first day of Homeschool PE at the YMCA. Usually the YMCA gets around a dozen kids or so, but this year, the homeschool moms have organized a swim class on Tuesdays in the next town over. No one feels the need to spend $50 for 7 weeks of PE, so we're basically the only ones there besides an extremely nice boy exactly The Boy's age. The Girl and I finished "our" language arts while we waited. Not a bad deal. Still, it's more fun with more boys.
I'm seriously thinking about joining Weight Watchers. See, if I gain any more weight, I'm going to have to find a sturdier step ladder -- mine's only rated up to 225 pounds. Sad, yes, but true. Last night at the grocery, the frickin' scale said 215 pounds. Eek! I always said that if I ever cleared 200 pounds, I'd just kill myself, but it's not looking like such a viable choice now.
Maybe Curves and Weight Watchers are the way to go. God knows I have no self-discipline, and God knows that I have no long pants that fit. Seriously, I haven't worn long pants since February, and none fit now. AND I'm going Up North at Christmas. AND I can't afford new pants. I can either spend the money on Curves and WW, or I can spend it on new pants. That's not even starting to talk about the tingling in my leg and the pain in my heel... Time to act like a middle-aged woman and get on with it. *sigh*
Every now and then, I get a whining noise from the work area, but when I ask if he needs help, he says no. He's up to "I'm such a loser." I keep telling him, "No, you just put your work off too long."
Today was the first day of Homeschool PE at the YMCA. Usually the YMCA gets around a dozen kids or so, but this year, the homeschool moms have organized a swim class on Tuesdays in the next town over. No one feels the need to spend $50 for 7 weeks of PE, so we're basically the only ones there besides an extremely nice boy exactly The Boy's age. The Girl and I finished "our" language arts while we waited. Not a bad deal. Still, it's more fun with more boys.
I'm seriously thinking about joining Weight Watchers. See, if I gain any more weight, I'm going to have to find a sturdier step ladder -- mine's only rated up to 225 pounds. Sad, yes, but true. Last night at the grocery, the frickin' scale said 215 pounds. Eek! I always said that if I ever cleared 200 pounds, I'd just kill myself, but it's not looking like such a viable choice now.
Maybe Curves and Weight Watchers are the way to go. God knows I have no self-discipline, and God knows that I have no long pants that fit. Seriously, I haven't worn long pants since February, and none fit now. AND I'm going Up North at Christmas. AND I can't afford new pants. I can either spend the money on Curves and WW, or I can spend it on new pants. That's not even starting to talk about the tingling in my leg and the pain in my heel... Time to act like a middle-aged woman and get on with it. *sigh*
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Ooh! It worked. (I think.)
So, I set a schedule for The Boy. I hate schedules in homeschooling. I figure if it takes an hour, it takes an hour. Who am I to put a limit on creativity? But this required drastic measures.
I gave him some start-up help at 8:30, and he worked on his own for a while. I taught him from 10 to 11, and then he worked on his own until lunch. Naturally, he didn't really finish his work until 2:30, but I didn't have to teach him after lunch. Yay for me! I just kept telling him that at 11, I had to go work with The Girl, and if he kept goofing off, I'd have to come back and teach him at 1:00. So there. ;)
Then he had a classic "extiction burst" during the arsenic hour. He blew up into a huge crying fit around 5:00, which gave him a massive bloody nose. (He knows exactly how to do this to the maximum effect.) I didn't give in. I cleaned him up, put him on the couch to hold his nose, and The Husband put the sheets in the washer. I didn't yell at him or blame him. (BUT I COULD HAVE!) He remade the bed before bedtime, and all was well.
Funny thing, though. After dinner, he asked me if I was angry. I told him that I'm frustrated because he's still having trouble doing his work and keeping his temper, but that I was not mad at him. He seemed happy to hear that. I asked if he were angry, and he said no, only a little sad.
So why am I up at 11:00 again? The Girl wouldn't go to bed tonight. Not going, not staying, no how. I have no idea how she lives on less sleep than I do. It's a mystery. All I know is that she had The Boy up with her until 10:30, and I have to get their tired butts out of bed tomorrow morning and try to teach them grammar. Yay. THAT'll go well...
I gave him some start-up help at 8:30, and he worked on his own for a while. I taught him from 10 to 11, and then he worked on his own until lunch. Naturally, he didn't really finish his work until 2:30, but I didn't have to teach him after lunch. Yay for me! I just kept telling him that at 11, I had to go work with The Girl, and if he kept goofing off, I'd have to come back and teach him at 1:00. So there. ;)
Then he had a classic "extiction burst" during the arsenic hour. He blew up into a huge crying fit around 5:00, which gave him a massive bloody nose. (He knows exactly how to do this to the maximum effect.) I didn't give in. I cleaned him up, put him on the couch to hold his nose, and The Husband put the sheets in the washer. I didn't yell at him or blame him. (BUT I COULD HAVE!) He remade the bed before bedtime, and all was well.
Funny thing, though. After dinner, he asked me if I was angry. I told him that I'm frustrated because he's still having trouble doing his work and keeping his temper, but that I was not mad at him. He seemed happy to hear that. I asked if he were angry, and he said no, only a little sad.
So why am I up at 11:00 again? The Girl wouldn't go to bed tonight. Not going, not staying, no how. I have no idea how she lives on less sleep than I do. It's a mystery. All I know is that she had The Boy up with her until 10:30, and I have to get their tired butts out of bed tomorrow morning and try to teach them grammar. Yay. THAT'll go well...
Monday, September 7, 2009
The agony of homeschooling...
They're making me crazy. More specifically, The Boy is making me crazy. He's still (after two weeks of school) playing the "helpless child" card. "I can't do it. It's too hard! I hate SCHOOL!" Um. Yeah. Honey, it's a spelling pre-test in your online spelling lessons. Getting through it just allows you to play the word games. ("Kick" the soccer balls that are spelled correctly.) And you never miss any!!! CHILL OUT!!!
And yet, screaming that at him doesn't seem to help. Go figure.
I keep trying to find the logical consequence for his lying on the floor, whining and crying, but somehow, I can't. See, the "you're not playing computer until it's done" consequence only prolongs the agony. 'Cause he always finishes after a few hours of hand-holding. But it takes all my time away from teaching The Girl.
So I whined to The Husband, and I think we found a solution. The Boy has an hour of independent work (review math, finish spelling page, finish grammar page), and then I'll work with him for an hour on hard stuff (composition, social studies) . If that hour doesn't cover what it was supposed to, I'll get back to him on it after lunch. In the mean time, I'll be over here, teaching The Girl while you start on your next independent task. Sorry, check back later.
Jeez. You'd think that by almost-10 years old, he'd be able to pick up his math book and do problems 1-15 on commutative/associative/identity properties, a two-page worksheet on "what is a noun", and a fill-in-the-blank for his spelling words without my having to torture him. *sigh* Promise me that this, too, shall pass, if I only keep the faith. (It's not like I have a choice!)
Oh, and if anyone is still reading this by the end of the post, don't worry -- he really can do the work. I'm the worst one for going all wobbly, and thinking that maybe he really feels afraid, vulnerable, and he can't do the work. I know how that works. I've dealt with it in the past. This kind of anxiety was what caused me to pull him out of the public schools. But, as this is not my first rodeo, I think I can assure you that this one is fake. ;)
And yet, screaming that at him doesn't seem to help. Go figure.
I keep trying to find the logical consequence for his lying on the floor, whining and crying, but somehow, I can't. See, the "you're not playing computer until it's done" consequence only prolongs the agony. 'Cause he always finishes after a few hours of hand-holding. But it takes all my time away from teaching The Girl.
So I whined to The Husband, and I think we found a solution. The Boy has an hour of independent work (review math, finish spelling page, finish grammar page), and then I'll work with him for an hour on hard stuff (composition, social studies) . If that hour doesn't cover what it was supposed to, I'll get back to him on it after lunch. In the mean time, I'll be over here, teaching The Girl while you start on your next independent task. Sorry, check back later.
Jeez. You'd think that by almost-10 years old, he'd be able to pick up his math book and do problems 1-15 on commutative/associative/identity properties, a two-page worksheet on "what is a noun", and a fill-in-the-blank for his spelling words without my having to torture him. *sigh* Promise me that this, too, shall pass, if I only keep the faith. (It's not like I have a choice!)
Oh, and if anyone is still reading this by the end of the post, don't worry -- he really can do the work. I'm the worst one for going all wobbly, and thinking that maybe he really feels afraid, vulnerable, and he can't do the work. I know how that works. I've dealt with it in the past. This kind of anxiety was what caused me to pull him out of the public schools. But, as this is not my first rodeo, I think I can assure you that this one is fake. ;)
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Discipline (or lack thereof)
I'm torn between two opposing forces.
On one hand are all the behaviorists. They tell me that if I ignore the bad behavior and encourage the good, the bad will stop. I should ignore The Girl screaming and whining all the way through her math lesson today, and she'll get on with it. She'll eventually realize that whining doesn't get her what she wants, and she'll just quit.
On the other hand is my common sense. She's whining because she's unhappy, and whining makes her feel better. Sheez, there are times when I want to scream, and if everyone would ignore it, I'd do it more often.
What's with that?
I mean, I guess the real question is, "What does she really want?" She wants her brain to stop hurting. I've disrupted her happy little routine (by erasing a tiny math sum that I had written in the margin), and her brain hurts. How, then, do I keep her from screaming every time she's thwarted?
God, I wish I knew...
On one hand are all the behaviorists. They tell me that if I ignore the bad behavior and encourage the good, the bad will stop. I should ignore The Girl screaming and whining all the way through her math lesson today, and she'll get on with it. She'll eventually realize that whining doesn't get her what she wants, and she'll just quit.
On the other hand is my common sense. She's whining because she's unhappy, and whining makes her feel better. Sheez, there are times when I want to scream, and if everyone would ignore it, I'd do it more often.
What's with that?
I mean, I guess the real question is, "What does she really want?" She wants her brain to stop hurting. I've disrupted her happy little routine (by erasing a tiny math sum that I had written in the margin), and her brain hurts. How, then, do I keep her from screaming every time she's thwarted?
God, I wish I knew...
And now, something completely different...
This morning, I actually poured my kid a soda while showering. Forget banging on the bathroom door. They just barge in and ask for catering services. She knows she's not supposed to pour from the bottles herself, and I couldn't convince her brother (by screaming across the house) that DIET soda was okay with breakfast. The third time she came in, I just opened the shower door, opened the bottle, and poured her some. *sigh* I have no dignity. It's all gone. Just gone...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)