Miscellaneous musings...

I know you all are just dying to know -- I think I can get through the last of our Calvert schooling by the time we leave on our mini-vacation to see my delusional brother. Yayyy! The Boy is finished with grammar, phonics, critical thinking, geography. He's just running out of subjects to work on!

The Girl just works as she pleases. It's hard to get her to stop doing school on the weekends. We do crossword puzzles -- she does the 6 times tables. We sing them to the tune of the Can-Can. ;)

Tomorrow is Memorial Day. And we're doing school. What better way to honor people who fought and died to preserve our right to be well-educated Americans? (Is anybody buying this?)

Surviving the bit, fat, honking Homeschool Convention

Well, I went to the big homeschool conference in our state yesterday, and I am still a little wobbly.

I have never seen so many people in the same place in my life. At least that's what it felt like. Indoors, I've probably seen 12,000. But all in identical red-upholstered chairs, paying attention? Never. It was... Odd?

Anyway, I went to three of the lectures, of which I enjoyed one. I spend hours in the "Exhibition Hall" -- the mall of madness. I was approaching claustrophobia by the time I managed to escape.

I enjoyed flipping through the materials that I've admired from afar (online) and decided to buy some of them. I dropped $250 on Excellence in Writing. I dropped $100 on Critical Thinking books. (I've been told their software is junk.) I dropped $50 on paper and white boards. I spend another $65 on Memoria Press for The Trojan War and for The Courage of Sarah Noble.

But I didn't discover anything new and exciting. I was looking for some science or something for The Girl. I was also hoping to find some crossword puzzles for The Girl.

I was hoping that the lecture called "Building a Language Program for your Children" wouldn't end just before the "What questions should we discuss about the books?" answer. Seriously, he just stopped and said he'd continue the next day at 3pm. Naturally, the applause for his presentation was not exactly thunderous -- especially for the people who were only planning to come Friday. Jerk.

Best presenter? The founder and CEO of Excellence in Writing, Andrew Pudewa. Awesome speaker. His talk was "Teaching Boys & Other Children Who Would Rather Make Forts All Day". Apparently, it a book now as well. He references Why Gender Matters by Leonard Sax quite a bit, so I'll probably run that one down as well. It was awesome. Almost made the 200 mile round trip worth while. Almost.

Stupid people I'm related to

Ahh, the family crises have abated. My stupid brother and his ill-fated brood are getting along without my mom. She's headed home to us. My pottymouth, barfly niece is grieving inappropriately for her two preemie girls by getting together with the ex-ex-boyfriend who has been known to hit women. My sister, being an almost-empty-nester, is actually going to take on my brother's 4-year-old daughter for a week. Good luck with that one. They're still considering if this is the right time to toilet train her. (Ya think?)

Me, I'm just crazy enough to take my dad up to visit the stupid brother for the last weekend of June. Stupid Brother (SB) is having my sister bring poopy-pants girl back to his house the same weekend. So it'll be a family reunion... Yayyyyy... Someone kill me. Did I mention that they don't have a guest room? They seem to think that chaos is a virtue, rather than just a byproduct of having kids around. I honestly think that they shoot for it. Filth and degredation follow...

So, let's take stock of my stupid brother's spawn. His wife is 1 for 4 on producing healthy children. They deny that a child with 9 hemi-vertebrae, half of one kidney, and a heart valve that must be replaced at least one more time is NOT special needs. They deny that a child with absolutely nothing connecting her brain halves is NOT special needs.

AND.

*sigh*

Lord love us. They're of the persuasion that says, "God sends babies..." They're not finished having kids. She's 42, is 100 pounds overweight, and has extremely high blood pressure. They aren't trying NOT to have a downs child. I've told them that I understand that they'll love any child that God sends them. But I also understand that they'd better not be expecting me to take their six (or seven) disabled children if they're both killed on date night. Sorry. No can do. We're full up.

Y'know, I'm starting to think that maybe, just maybe, I have drama queen tendencies.

On the verge again...

Okay, I've spent the last year working The Boy through Calvert School's fourth grade, and it has gone pretty well, all things considered. Their literature is good, their social studies is awesome, and I adored the structure of a lesson plan book. But I was thinking about the year overall, and came to the conclusion that this year was, in a word, unremarkable.

Now, some would consider this year to be a success, but I'm starting to wonder. Is "unremarkable" really a good goal for the next school year? On the other hand, am I really ready to move from the "learning the material at home" homeschool genre to "dynamic education for a gifted child" genre? I know this sounds like a no brainer, but it's not.

My mom thinks that I would be crazy to upset the apple cart and switch out of Calvert. I mean, it was a success, right? Well, yes, sort of... He was bored by the science, but who isn't? The spelling list, phonics, and grammar were too easy, but that's bound to happen. The writing curriculum wasn't robust enough. The reading list wasn't long enough. The science and social studies sufficiently introduced him to issues that he should be aware of. The social studies was actually much better than I've found myself. The math was not rigorous enough, but I can switch it out for Saxon next year without too much trouble.

But why bother with Calvert at all? Why not build my own? I mean after all, I did just that for third grade, and everyone was happy. Why not go for real excellence?

Well, real excellence requires a ton more work on my part. I would have to teach him the Michael Clay Thompson grammar/vocabulary/writing, rather than tossing it to him from across the room. I would have to develop unit plans and deadlines for the science and social studies, rather than simply living up to the expectations from Calvert. (Sadly, I need a whip behind me to keep moving through science and social studies. I get lazy.) I have already resigned myself to spending an hour a day with him poring over the Saxon Math.

If he were an only child, this wouldn't even be a question -- I'd jump ship from Calvert in a heartbeat. But he's not. The Girl requires three to four hours of tutoring per day as well.

What to do?! Well, The Girl is an early morning bird. The Boy is most decidedly not. I could teach The Girl in the morning and The Boy in the afternoon. But that would keep me in full battle mode for 8 hours a day. And when would we do anything fun like play group or music lessons? We could school for four days a week, but then I'd start worrying about "finishing" a grade. Am I really ready to let go of "grade level" notions yet? I just don't know -- that requires a lot of bravery.

I know what you're thinking. Why can't they do some of their curriculum independently? I mean, they're 10 years old, for god's sake. Or why can't I teach some of the curriculum to them together? The Girl needs a tutor. Period. The Boy is a auditory learner, and the material that I want to use is of the sort that requires a "shared learning experience". We read, play with words, brainstorm outlines, that sort of thing. He can take an outline and write a paragraph from it, but that won't keep him for more than 20 minutes a day.

What to do? What to do?!

the three deadly sins

My poor sister. Her daughter (my niece that I've been talking so much about) is back to her old self-destructive ways. My sister called her out on Facebook and told her that she really didn't need to go back to her two most destructivce habits -- drinking and smoking. Turns out she's going back to a third as well - the ex-ex-boyfriend. Y'know, the one who hits her. I told her to check out the hospital and ask for help. She won't. *sigh* You just know she won't.

I gotta say, though, the ex-ex looks somewhat hot, sort of like Johnny Depp, in a scrawny, floppy haired, sparse facial hair sort of way. Lord help us all.

s'okay.

My blood pressure was 129 over something, but that's not too bad, I guess. They wouldn't give me a sticker -- EVEN THOUGH I LOST 18 POUNDS SINCE MY LAST APPOINTMENT! Can you imagine? The state of medical treatment these days. It's a travesty.

The extended family isn't doing as well.

My niece is suffering with the loss of her twins and trying to self-medicate with alcohol and tobacco. My sister is dying a slow death, watching her on facebook.

My brother's newborn twins are waking up and making themselves heard. My mom is still there to help with the four year old, but the little darling is wise to the scheme now and won't go anywhere near my mom. Mom keeps sending me narratives. "Right now, SIL is addressing thank you notes while watching Xena Princess Warrior and the fall of Sparta. Brother is trying to get Little Darling to trace letters. The cat is sitting on the kitchen counter, knocking bottles onto the floor with her tail. The other cat is wheezing in the corner of the kitchen, petrified. Now, Little Darling has started to whine to go outside in the rain. SIL puts her in front of a movie. LD stares vacantly at the movie, then pees and poops her pants." Fear this house.

I've told my mom that all we can do is light a candle for them when she gets home.

High pressure situation

I'm going to the nice doctor to get my nice happy pills renewed, but now I have another problem.

Last time I was there, I was under a lot of stress, and my blood pressure was 140 over something. Usually, it's been around 110 over 75. Now, every time I go somewhere that they check my blood pressure, I get all nervous and (you guessed it!) my blood pressure is way high. Ironic, no?

I'm sitting here all nervous and quakey because someone's going to check my blood pressure and find out that my blood pressure it too high.

And if it is? He'll tell me that a) I'm getting old and menopausey, b) I need to exercise, or c) I need more medication. I don't want a, I really don't want b, and I really, really don't want c. Oy! I wonder if anyone ever had a heart attack over getting high blood pressure.

Okay, that's just weird. I refuse to have high blood pressure over potential high blood pressure readings. Besides, I ordered a recumbent bicycle yesterday from Amazon, so that should help my level of fitness, no?

Maybe I need a doctor who doesn't scare me. He's a prince of a man though, and the only thing that scares me is that he'll be nice and solicitous to me, and I'll break out crying because someone, anyone, cares about me. So, he doesn't scare me, but the thought that he'll send me to a mental health specialist who'll make me cry by being nice to me does.

Oh the tangled web we all weave.

My kids follow me everywhere, even in my dreams...

Is it wrong when your kids join you on those romantic interludes in dreamland with your college sweetheart whom you have not seen in 20 years?

I swear, I can't get away from those people anywhere. If I go to the grocery, I have to take The Girl, because (being autistic) she needs to be around new, unexpected things as often as possible. If I go to the library, The Boy wants to go and pick out videos. If I go to the bathroom, The Girl breaks into the master bathroom and empties all the contact lens solution down the sink and bathes in hair conditioner. Yeah, that's not relevant, except that even when I do finally get away from them, I wish I hadn't.

I need a vacation.

my weight "problem" and my niece's problem...

I don't know if this is a confession or just a gripe. Maybe it's a confession that I've been griping?

I have lost 20 pounds since last fall. I feel pretty darned good about it, especially since I'm *gasp* 47 years old. But it only means that I've moved from "obese" to "overweight". How can 5'11" and 185 pounds be overweight?

Gee. On "paper", that weight does look pretty high. Still -- what idiot decided that the healthy weight for me is 150? Freakin' 150 pounds? No way...

On another completely different note, my niece has decided to go back to being a wise ass, potty mouth barfly -- at least for a little while. She has nothing else right now, since she has no other obligations and can't go back to work yet. I can't say I blame her too much, really.

I just wish she'd take a look at what just happened and think about her future a little more. She's not ready to think about "what just happened" just yet. But soon, she's going to have to start thinking about what she wants for her future and her future children. A better-paying job? A career that allows her to support children? An education so she can have a career that will allow her to support children? A retirement account? This child is 22 years old and has no ideas yet. IMHO, it's time she started thinking. Her mom agrees, but I'm not sure it matters much what either of us think. At some point, you just can't do much more than leave the porch light on.

Lil Bit has joined her sister...

Well, Lil Bit gave up the fight yesterday. My niece, after 10 days of struggle and anguish, has lost the second of her twins.

Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better to have declared it a miscarriage at 24 weeks, rather than the death of two baby girls after 10 days.

I realize that either way, it's the same thing, but my ever-practical mind wonders where the line really should be drawn -- for the sanity and health of everyone.

Her twins suffered from twin-to-twin transfusion: one baby had siphoned all the blood from the other. Instead of having two 2-pound babies, she had a 1-pound baby and a 3-pound baby. You'd think that the larger would have a better chance for survival, but because of the extra blood she carried, her heart was severely damaged. She died first, after only 2 days. The other was too small and starved from the loss of blood. After 10 days of transfusions and intensive care, she also died. I have to believe both suffered almost as much as their mother did from this ordeal.

But the conservatives of the religious right would have to ask if the failure to resuscitate babies from a 24-week pregnancy would be euthanasia. And my niece needed to know that she had done all she could for her tiny ones.

Sometimes I wish I were a mindless religious fanatic -- at least then, I'd have easy answers.

Then I remember that the unexamined life is not worth living, and I soldier on.

Cat flaps and other useful things

The kids have taken over my bedroom. Understand, they each have their own room. They collectively have a family room, living room, and a small office. Why should they want my room as well? I have no idea, but I'm sure that Victorian England may have known. "The sun never sets on our empire."

I've had a chain on my bathroom door for years, to keep The Girl from marauding in my creams, sprays, and powders. I added a lock to the chain when she finally started using a chair to reach the chain. Today, I found that she had slipped in through the opening, wrecked the place, and slipped back out, like Osceola from his prison cell. *sigh*

I shortened the chain, but the next step is to put a combination lock on the bedroom door and establish some territory. It's like a range war -- fence 'em in or fence 'em out. Then I have to put a cat flap in my bedroom door so that cats can get to the litter box. 'Cause God forbid I give The Girl access to the litter box.

It's like the frikkin' wild west. This has to end. It's making me a crazy person who puts cat flaps on interior doors. Mama said there'd be days like this. She just didn't say it'd be every day.

I have so many great ideas for blog posts...

but only in the shower. I swear I think of two or three witty bon mot with which to adorn my blog entries, but by the time I'm dry and dressed -- *poof* -- they're all gone. Along with my shopping list.

Hmm. I did find a new book to read while I was doing my shift at the food coop: Consumed: How Markets Corrupt Children, Infantilize Adults, and Swallow Citizens Whole. Yeah, it's a bit apocalyptical (and probably apocryphal in places) but it doesn't talk down to me. The author basically condemns the new capitalism for overproducing and then creating needs, most of which require us to behave like babies. And the babyish behavior results in our looking at issues in black-and-white terms, thus leading to the downfall of a compassionate society. Whew! Naturally, he's a much better writer than I am, but he hasn't suffered the sleep deprivation that I have. ;) I can't WAIT to see how it turns out!

Springtime, when a woman's thoughts turn to...

Curriculum! Betcha didn't see that one coming... Unless you're homeschooling, and then you're just tired of hearing about everyone else's.

I'm looking at some language arts material that may be in the Classical realm -- Michael Clay Thompson's language arts from Royal Fireworks Press.

It's pretty sophisticated, but The Boy has been complaining that the Calvert language is too easy and boring. I have to admit, he's way past the grammar, spelling, and phonics that they're doing, but his writing (organizing the ideas and putting them down) is way behind. He also doesn't read alone yet. He's a wordsmith, but not necessarily a linguist. ;) I'm doing writing on the side using Writing with Ease Level 1, but only for the listening comprehension and summarization. (If he can say it, he can write it.)

I love Calvert's social studies and science, and I really need their structure and "deadlines", but their books are on Amazon, and I think I can get the lesson plans from one of my girlfriends. I've already chosen Saxon Math.

What else is there, besides music? ;)

Too Much Zyrtec Boy

Want to know what happens when you give a 10-year-old boy more than one Zyrtek in 24 hours? Oy. "May cause excitability in small children." He was up all night, complaining about his body parts wanting to move. And moving them wasn't helping much. My boy who usually sleeps 11 hours only slept (as far as The Husband and I can tell) about 5, max. He woke us at 4am and then disrupted The Girl's morning television routine, causing much distress. ;)

Of course, The Girl never sleeps much anyway, so she's up and running this morning. "I want to do blue-to-red!! Want to do coins!" But I don't want to do homeschool today... I had just barely caught up on my sleep from his all-night barfing binge over the weekend, and ugh.

Meanwhile, Lil Bit is still hanging in there. My sister says the poor thing has transparent skin, and you can see all the veins and bruises. Still, she's stabilized and may actually make it. We don't know what my niece is going to do with Lil Bit's twin who died over the weekend. We're thinking cremation and then digging the ashes into the memorial rose garden at the church. Don't know. It's going to be a bittersweet first mother's day for that woman. *sigh*

Okay, so let's see where we are...

After gaining four (count 'em four) babies in the extended family in the past four days, let's take inventory.

Lil Bit (my 22-year-old niece's surviving twin) is hanging in there. My niece is devastated at the loss of the other twin. There are no words.

My brother brought his twins (Tiny Boy and Tiny Girl) home from the hospital yesterday after finding out that Tiny Girl has nothing connecting the two halves of her brain. Yup, total Agenesis of the Corpus Callosum.The prognosis ranges from barely noticeable differences, right up through seizures, mental retardation, and a long laundry list of delays, disorders, and deficits. She seems fine for now, except for being really cranky, and so it's (you guessed it) a waiting game. One of our websites says that she may develop seizures around three months old. Either way, there's nothing to be done. It won't get any better or worse. There are very few ways that the brain can rebuild the pathways -- the structure just isn't there.

A little background here, while I'm venting. All my life, I have been told how bright my little brother is. "Oh, your brother is SO bright!" I always supposed that this meant I was chopped liver and merely average. Somehow, it didn't keep me from getting my master's degree. Meanwhile, my brother joined the Nuclear Navy out of high school and was quickly busted to electrician's mate for the rest of his tour. After he got out, he narrowly avoided graduating from college, moved in with my dad, and was three months away from becoming a certified union electrician when he quit his apprenticeship. With great precision, he has narrowly avoided success all his life. He's now a 42-year-old house husband with a total nut-crusher for a wife. She works for the Federal Government, and yet he's still opposed to big government. (He has health insurance, so we must not need health care reform. Heh?) He did not inherit the tidy gene, not that that end of my family's gene pool is all that deep. So, you can imagine what the house looks like. His wife is a total drama queen, especially when she's breeding and feels entitled to be a total slug in the societal garden.

So, let's take inventory in my brother's house, shall we? First, we have a non-toilet-trained four-year old VACTERL/VATER girl who has the V (vertebrae), C (cardiac), R (renal), and L (limb) deformities. They lost a baby a year ago to Trisomy-18. The newborn girl has agenesis of the corpus callosum. The newborn boy is just mellow and easygoing. (Did I mention that many people with autistic children mention how preternaturally mellow their children were when they were tiny babies?)

Oy. The only funny thing to come out of this entire train wreck this week is the mental image of my dear, 72-year-old mother (the only real adult currently in their house) toilet training a four year old. You have to understand that she was a career gal in the 60's and 70's, and the maid/nanny pretty much toilet trained us. She learned her prodigious toilet training skills from me and my kids! Strip 'em to t-shirt and Barbie underpants, put the potty in the middle of the dining room, and limit them to the general vicinity. Voila. Neither of us can even comprehend that my brother didn't toilet train her before the twins were born.

So, let the games begin!

And yet more waiting. And more

So Lil Bit, my tiny great-niece, is hanging in there and her mother is being booted from the hospital today. My neice now has to pick up her car from the first hospital she had gone to, pick up her cell phone charger from the second hospital they sent her to, and then visit her tiny baby in the third hospital. Oh, and pump, eat, pee. Poor thing.

Meanwhile, my brother's 35-week twins (Tiny Girl and Tiny Boy) are being released today. Just as they were about to leave, someone in the medical community suddenly wanted to do an MRI on Tiny Girl. Why? Something about a possibility, however slight, that she may have Agenesis of the Corpus Collosum. In other words, the two halves of her brain may not be connected correctly. Some of the details in the prognosis section of that link are pretty dire, so I'm just going to refuse to think about it until I hear further. Works for me.

My own son kept me up all night with dry heaves. Yup, the barfing stopped around midnight, and he just kept waking up every hour or so with dry heaves. He's been doing it off and on all day, and is now running a fever of almost 102. When it rains, it pours.

Or something like that.

Still nothing to do but wait.

My sister called from the road. She had been heading back home from my niece and her newborn preemies when she got the call. The larger of the two has given it up. So, back around she turned. My niece was sobbing. It makes me cry to think about it.

It turns out we were right about the twin-to-twin transfusion. Basically, the twins shared not only a placenta but some blood vessels as well. One twin had more of the blood, overloading her heart, and the other had very little, making her tiny.

Even my anesthesiologist friend told me this morning that given their condition, if the smaller twin could hang on, she actually had a better chance of making it than the larger. She was right. I bet doctors hate it when they're right.

Anyway, we're down to Lil Bit, bruised, wrinkled, skinny, and very precious, clinging to life.

I can't even pray. I don't feel up to it. What if we beg God to let us keep her and he doesn't? That's too much pressure. All we can do is wait.

sweet irony

After YEARS of trying to separate my emotions from my eating, I have apparently succeeded. Comfort food no longer comforts me.

Yes, that's right. You heard me. I had creamed spinach soup with bacon for dinner, and I still feel sad. Even half-melted chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream didn't help. Maybe comfort food never did comfort me.

Thankfully, I haven't succeeded in separating my emotions from my sleep cycle. Maybe I'll try a comfort nap. Right after I have some comfort milk-of-magnesia.

Nothing to do but wait

My sister got the call around 9:30 this morning, just after my mom left there for my brother's house and his twins.

My niece delivered her twin girls this morning at 24 weeks. The first report was that one had died and the other was just tiny. After her dad (my brother-in-law) arrived, the news was updated to two live babies.

By mid afternoon, the news was updated again. It turns out that one baby is three pounds, and they're not worried too much about that one. The other baby was one pound. The NICU nurses told my niece that often these tiny ones get really tired at around 12 hours old and just check out on their own. They mentioned something about twin-to-twin transfusion, but it really doesn't matter. We'll just see what the night brings. Nothing else to do.

So, I'm stuck home without any females to talk to. *sigh* Even The Husband is out until late tonight.