Kintropy In Action

"Mom, do you think God is a boy or a girl?"

I was sitting at the dinning room table eating something when Gabriel asked me this question. I took a swig of tea, trying to swallow what was in my mouth. This was another moment that I love as a parent, but I had a lot of thoughts to put in order.

Some background: we are Jewish, and I officially converted before Gabriel was born, but I was raised agnostic. Wait, it gets better. Judaism and agnosticism work well together, but for raising a seven year old spiritually in a specific religion, it can be a hurdle. I want him to think for himself, so I approach these issues with a kind of open-ended-guided-thing that can be a real dance for me mentally.

So for this question, the first thing I did was throw out my baggage and really analyze Gabriel's question.

I started by throwing the question back at him, "That's a good question." I looked him straight in the eye. "What do you think, Gabriel?"

He looked up at the ceiling, thinking, and swayed against the dining room table on tiptoe, "I think he's a boy."

That makes sense: you are a boy, I thought. All the stories you read use the word "he" when talking about God.

He looked back at me, "So, Mom, what do you think?"

I felt free to give my opinion. "I think God is whatever it needs to be. Maybe it's both genders. Maybe there is a totally different gender possibility. Or maybe it's no gender at all."

He took it in, "Mom, can I play Wii now?"

"Sure." I went back to eating my food. So much for The Moment.

 --Mom

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Granted, both Gabriel and Hannah were avoiding going to sleep, but I just had to smile.

"Hannah!" Gabriel peeked into her room.  His room is a few, kitty-corner steps away.  "Did you want a big brother hug?"

My head was still stuck in work mode from weekend laptop projects, but I took a break for this moment.  I hovered nearby, admiring both the sneaky conspiracy against bedtime and the loving offer.  Gabriel walked a few paces into Hannah room.  She smiled back at him.

As Gabriel grabbed her bed's handrail and awkwardly swung a foot over to climb in next to her, Hannah kept beaming, holding her arms out to greet him and/or request a pickup from him.

"Aw, you want a hug?  Here's a big brother hug."

And they hugged.  Hannah's hugs can be less-than-gentle, but they both managed to trade hugs and hair grabs without any pemanent injury.  I stepped quietly away from my position nearby and walked back to the kitchen.  

Gabriel and Hannah's bedtime rituals could pause for this moment.  That seemed ok to me.

-- Dad

Posted by Dad at 10:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

When we go out to eat at restaurants, Hannah does not have fun. She, like most young children, wants to move about. Since she is in a manual wheelchair, it is usually up to us if she gets to move. She doesn't eat by mouth yet, and she is still in the finger painting stage with food: something very hard to clean up when out and about. We are trying to teach her manners, so we talk and sing to her till the food comes.

Then we pull out the miracle of the modern age. It is called the portable DVD player. I get to have a chat with adults and my husband while we eat. It is such a novel experience.

It works in other situations too. Anything that involves waiting in one place, such as a doctor office, coffee shop, and synagogue.

So I tell people yeah Hannah use to be ventilator-dependent, now she is DVD-dependent. It is a lot easier to transport.

--Mom

Posted by parents at 07:35 PM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

Next month we are having a transitional meeting about Hannah's goals and her transition into Kindergarten from preschool. It is exciting and overwhelming. We are going to put her into the public school my son goes to. We have some hang ups to get past. I really haven't seen any children that experience disabilities matriculating in activities. Some of the moms that live on my block that I talk to were even surprised to know there was a self-contained classroom there. It is a bungalow to the side of the building and I'm not sure the kids interact with the typical population.

Needless to say, I anticipate some interesting discussions.

This reminds me of a conversation I had recently. Let me start by saying that I was raised by a Marine and an Engineer. Most conversations when I was a child were all about the facts and sticking to the truth. There was no sugar-coating conversations. Usually when I'm dealing with very real issues I feel strongly about, I'm a little blunt.

So I met a women at a gathering whose child has Down Syndrome. She was talking to her friend. (Some of these things can be cliquey) They were across from me. I wanted to network, so I butted in because the women seemed really agitated.

Me: "So what is going on with your daughter's friend?"

Women: "My daughter just started kindergarten. She has a friend in class who likes to try to help her out. But my daughter wants to be independent, so she snarls and growls at her friend."

Me:"Wow."

Women: "Her friend's mother called me to say she was afraid her daughter's self esteem was being affected by my daughter's behaviour. Can you believe she tried to pass off the guilt to me. I have enough to deal with trying to keep my daughter in an integrated classroom!"

My first thought is Wow, this woman is reaching out for help from you to tell her daughter how to handle this behaviour. Wouldn't it be great if more parents could feel that comfortable to help with behaviour. I understand her misunderstanding, but when I talk about the wrong thing, her eyes narrow as I talk.

Me:"Your daughter needs to know that behaviour is not ok. You need to tell her that and especially her friend needs to let her know that. Especially her friend!"

Her face turns sour and she glares at me.

I shrug and say "You might think differently, but that is my opinion." I feel eye-daggers in my side as I turn to greet a friend who has arrived. Inside, I fume. She wants her child integrated, but she doesn't want to teach social rules. That is a disservice to her daughter. I further speculate that it must be because it is her only child. We all have to deal with those same issues with every child. Gabriel was three when we had to let him know biting wasn't appropriate. Hannah is still slipping ,but she does know it is not an OK behaviour.

So when I have the discussion with the school's staff, I plan have a what-can-we-do mentality instead of this-must-be-done-because-my-child-is-special approach.

--Mom

Posted by parents at 08:33 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

"Hey, that's Martin Luther King!" Gabriel exclaimed, pointing to the t.v..

The 6:30pm national news was recapping Martin Luther King Day events, using his "I Have a Dream" speech to anchor the coverage.  I was impressed that Gabriel recognized his image and, more importantly, that he moved closer to the t.v. to hear his words.

Hannah, for her part, watched Gabriel get excited.  She was busy playing with her toys nearby, but caught Gabriel's excitement long enough to entertain him with a checking glance.  She quickly returned to playing with her toys.

Of greater interest to Hannah was our new Wii game:  Wii Fit.  Yes, we've taken the plunge.  Today, we celebrated Martin Luther King Day with ten plus minutes each on the Wii Fit board.  Day Two for all of us.  Hannah laughed particularly hard at my exclamations of "Yeah!" at achieving three-out-of-four stars for most of my Yoga activities (we'll gloss over a few of my aerobics scores for now, though).

Tomorrow, of course, we officially install President Barack Obama.  Gabriel will be off at school; Hannah will be home with Mom.  I will be at work, missing the wall-to-wall coverage. But later tomorrow night, we'll all return home to watch replays, DVR'd coverage, and a few of the specials we've recorded.  Then, I'm sure, we'll return to Wii Fit:  Day Three.

-- Dad

Posted by Dad at 09:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Once in a while, I end up in the same conversation with different people. It is not one I mind, but, it is interesting to watch their reactions to the information I provide.

Person: "You mean you didn't know anything about any of this before Hannah was born."

Me:"Well I knew she had a twisted leg. They were ultra sounding me all the time due to my age and the fact I get gestational diabetes."

Person: "So, is there any way to know..." usually an uncomfortable pause is inserted here "what happened?"

(I shrug and then I start commenting on the unasked questions)

Me: "She has no official diagnosis that encompasses everything, and her chromosomes are the normal number."

Their eyes usually role in disbelief at this point.

Person: "Is she your only child?"

Me: "No." either I point at my son running around or pull out a picture of him.

Person: "Did you do everything the same with both pregnancies?"

I smile.

Me: "Everything was the same." Then I start listing things they didn't want to know, and I'm always happy to volunteer. "I made sure I was on folic acid before conception. I never drank alcohol or even took over the counter medication. I have never smoked in my life. I ate organic the whole time. I only cleaned with vinegar. I did not consume caffeine." (If it was a doctor I was talking to, I always included that I've never done illegal drugs.)

The person usually looks phased and seems at a loss for words. I always smile inside. I was once like them believing everything had some direct causal influence.

--Mom

Posted by parents at 09:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)

Posted by parents at 10:28 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Last week, Gabriel and I had a trying time one day after school.  I directed him to his homework like we always do.  I was pretty sure it would be fast and sweet because it was math.  He is doing math all the time right now in his head.  Unfortunately, it was one of those work sheets with 4 possible answers that went with a colour code to create a picture with the spaces that individual math problems resided in.  He decided that if he just coloured in the corresponding space with it's colour he didn't need to actually write the answers. 

Truthfully, my little lawyer was right the only directions on the page were to colour in the spaces with the designated colours, but I know that  one of the school districts big goals this year is to improve everyone's handwriting.  Writing the numbers was definitely part of the assignment.

"Gabriel, you did great, you only need to write the numbers down." I leaned down and pointed to the empty spaces beneath the problems coloured in the correct colours.

He glared "No, it doesn't say that.  I'm not going to do that.  It just says to colour the spaces." 

"Please, write the answers."  I stood and walked over to Hannah and moved a toy for her to chase.

"I'm done, can A and D come over to play now.  "(A and D are neighbourhood friends)

"No, you need to finish your homework."

He started screaming.  The type of screaming a inconsolable three year old does in a tantrum.  I remembered these.  To top it off he was demanding that his friends would be invited over.

I was annoyed.  I yelled back in a stern voice he rarely hears from mommy.  "YOU NEED TO FINISH YOUR HOMEWORK!  YOU NEED TO STOP TALKING TO ME THIS WAY!"

He broke down into tears that I had scared him.  I knelt down next to him.  "Gabriel, this doesn't need to be difficult.  In the time you have been complaining about this you could of wrote all the answers down."

"Your mean mommy!  Your no fun!"

I sighed and sat back on my haunches "Fun, Gabriel, that really isn't my job.  My job is to make sure you grow up with all the skills you need to succeed."

"But mom, it's boring."

I smiled "I know kiddo.  Do you think I find laundry fun?  Do you think I find cleaning done?  No, not really I don't, but it has to get done.  We all have things we have to do that we don't enjoy, the trick is to get them done and move on to what we want to do."

He wasn't buying it and started screaming at me in frustration.  I told him that his friends were not coming over and he needed to go to his room till he gained control of himself.  He argued but went.

I called his friend's mom to let them know that his invitation before he got home would not come to pass. 

When he calmed down I directed him to his homework.  When that was done I directed him to the couch next to me.  "Let's talk."  His behaviour had to have other catalyst then me I was sure of.

He sulked and sat next to me. 

"Do you want a hug?" That usually worked when he was three.

"No."  he said quietly and sternly.

"So, tell me what's going on.  Why are you so annoyed?"

He buried his head in the pillows of the couch.  "This girl at school said "Girls can hit boys but, boys can't hit girls." But that is a lie and not true.  She lied to me right mom."

My brain was going five directions at once.  How do I explain cultural differences to a child that I taught that hitting is never the answer to any problem.  So I bought myself time as I formulated my answer.  "Did she hit you?"

He covered his face with a pillow. 

I pulled the pillow off.  "Gabriel."

"What?"  he wouldn't make eye contact.

"Did she hit you?"

"No, but she lied mom right."  he was furious that someone would lie to him.  He is so my child.

I took a breath.  "It is not ok for anyone to hit anyone else."

"Why would she lie like that?"  he threw up his hands.

Here came the hard part.  "Gabriel, not every family is the same.  When I was a kid it was OK for boys to fight on a regular basis's.  The rule then was that was fine as long as they didn't hit girls. Your friend might be growing up in a house like that.  It's not a lie to her because that is what her parents are telling her."

"I was right, she was lying."

"You are right Gabriel, but she is not lying.  In her family it might be ok.  What you need to tell her is that it is not Ok for anyone to hit anyone else.  Say something like.  Yeah, in the old days that was true but not now in the year 2008 no one hits anyone else."

He smiled and laughed.  "Ok."

"And Gabriel."

"Yes."

"If she hits you tell the teacher."

"Sure Mom."

--Mom

P.S. I did get a hug in the end.

Posted by parents at 09:12 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Since Hannah has gotten her trache out I'm still getting use to the idea that I don't have to be right on top of her when she plays with food. This is a crucial step for learning to eat by mouth. So tonight while I made dinner, I sat her in the middle of the kitchen and gave her a bowl with some lemon yogurt and let her be. It is so nice to not have to worry about her getting food in her trache and subsequently her lungs. I could just let her explore the food and texture.

The following pictures show the hi-jinx that followed.

--Mom

Posted by parents at 10:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

At one point in Hannah's life, she lived in the children's hospital for three months. She was there from three months old until six months old. She has not forgotten it or any subsequent hospitalizations. So when I hit the left lane in the tunnel that it is the gateway to Portland, she becomes understandably agitated.

So I have learned to warn her. When we have a specialist appointment, I warn her in advance about where we are going and let her know we are not staying. (By the way, if I think there might be an overnight stay, I let her know that, too.)

So Monday morning, I dragged myself out of bed, put on my cheerful Mommy face, and woke up Miss Hannah. It was the day she would of slept in and cuddled.  Why does that mood only hit her when we have things to do? So I told her, "Wake up my gorgeous one! You have doctor appointments today."

She played coy and hid her face and made snoring sounds. I turned on her radio to XM kids and gently slid her light up to medium brightness. I wandered out the room to check my blood sugar, grab a yogurt cup, and check her travel bag.

I came back in; she was on all fours. She saw me, smiled, flattened herself back onto the bed, and hid her face again.

"Wake up Hannah, we have a lot do today." I slid her light to full brightness. I then picked her up out of bed, and she snuggled into my arms. Once her morning ablutions were done, I set her on a blanket on the floor. I got her into fresh clothes while I explained, "Ok Hannah, we are going to a doctor visit and the hospital. A doctor visit:  we are not staying. We are seeing the feeding specialists and then Dr. N" her pulmonologist." So to repeat, we are going to the hospital; we are not staying. We are going to doctor appointments."

She seemed more interested in the TV as I spoke. She was calm as I did her hair - that is a rarity. I think I repeated it several more times. I got on her feet braces. I loaded her in the car. We were giving Robert a ride to work that day. He was outside with her as I did the last minute check that I had everything we would need for a couple of hours.

As I walked into the garage, I heard Robert talking to Hannah. Then, clear as day she said "Go Doctor."

Robert and I looked at each other and praised her emphatically for her clear words. We then confirmed she was right.

As a bonus that night when Hannah's nurse was putting her to bed, Hannah said the word "Doctor" in her stream of nattering she does with that particular person. It came across as I did such and such today and the word Doctor was in there.

I've been telling everyone this story all week. I guess I'm a little excited.

--Mom

Posted by parents at 10:16 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)

Mommy has not been blogging because she

has been playing Spore during her writing time.

But look how cute thease creatures are.

--Mom

Posted by parents at 11:01 PM | Permalink | Comments (1) | TrackBacks (0)