After having spent last weekend with my parents at my place, I can't say I was too terribly excited to go visit them at their place this weekend. (Not that I don't love my parents, but seeing too much of them just annoys the hell out of me.) But it was Easter, and I haven't been home since before it was too cold to do any outside stuff. So off we went. And I have to say, it's much more springy in Southern MO. There are more dogwoods, which from 20+ years of exposure to during the beginnings of spring, just shout "Spring is here!!!" And there is a decided lack of dogwoods here in the north, for whatever reason. (Maybe if I went to a more wooded area than the actual town of Kirksville, I would see some.)
Of course, thunder storms also come with spring, and there was an average of 3 a day all weekend. Luckily, Camden had his rain boots (and it was warm enough for me to go without shoes!) so we got to splash around in the mud and puddles and grass. We caught two toads, which were put into the toad house we made last spring; one left fairly quickly, the other stayed for most of the afternoon. (We tried to feed the second one some earthworms, but I think he was rather pissed off with us and not interested in eating.)
All in all, it wasn't a bad weekend. My dad made Camden a slingshot from a hickory stick, inner tube, and a piece cut from a leather work glove (whose partner is MIA). I also heard some news about my brother, although I think I would have rather not heard. (He called the parentals and was telling them that "it's just like the movies. You're running and you can see the bullets hitting the ground around your feet." Uh, no, I don't want to hear about people shooting at him. Four months and he's home for good, though.) And while Easter was cold and rainy, Camden still got an egg hunt (inside, in the living room) and a TON of candy, along with a Transformers backpack.
25 April 2011
17 April 2011
Recital
Whelp... My recital is finally over with. Just in time, too. It went really well. My wrists held up for it (thank goodness, I think if it had been any colder they might not have) and I didn't get as nervous as I usually do. Typically, when I go to play for an audience, I get shaky and my legs tremble. My first piece, I had some trembling in my legs, but worked through it (and luckily my hands never shook). My third piece was a duet that I played with a friend, which went really really well. We didn't have any guidance on it, except for a few comments one time from our studio professor, so it's nice to know that we can throw together music and have it turn out really well. And my last piece was another marimba piece, which didn't go nearly as well as I had hoped or expected, but I'm okay with that (mostly).
On to pictures!
I did my recital with my friend Bob, who plays tuba. He ordered the cake, asking for it to say "Congratulations Sydnii and Bob" and the bakery asked if they could decorate it. (I'm assuming they were looking to practice, since they didn't charge.) Anyway, this is what we ended up with, a cake that we have jokingly named our "engagement cake."
Picture of myself and my high school (and college!) friend Cody playing our duet. I really wanted to do a duet on my recital, and I'm glad that Cody, who've I've known since he was a freshman in high school, was willing to help me out.
Playing some marimba.
Playing some more marimba, and looking fierce
On to pictures!
I did my recital with my friend Bob, who plays tuba. He ordered the cake, asking for it to say "Congratulations Sydnii and Bob" and the bakery asked if they could decorate it. (I'm assuming they were looking to practice, since they didn't charge.) Anyway, this is what we ended up with, a cake that we have jokingly named our "engagement cake."
Picture of myself and my high school (and college!) friend Cody playing our duet. I really wanted to do a duet on my recital, and I'm glad that Cody, who've I've known since he was a freshman in high school, was willing to help me out.
Playing some marimba.
Playing some more marimba, and looking fierce
15 April 2011
Oops, I did it again
It being disappearing for a time. I've just been so busy! And by busy, I obviously mean busy playing in the park and reading books and drawing and coloring and sewing and any other myriad of things with Camden. I've also been cursing my bad wrists. We've had mostly gorgeous weather, but every so often a cold front moves through, the temperature drops, and it rains. And my wrists (I have carpal tunnel syndrome) hurt like hell. Today, I lost all strength and dexterity in my hands. And I have a solo/senior recital on Sunday. Luckily, I've been playing my recital repertoire really well recently, so I don't think one day off will kill me.
On the good side of the spectrum, though... My parents are here for a weekend-long visit (due to senior recital, of course). And even better: my dad found some morels this morning before they drove up here, so I got mushrooms for dinner! First time I've had morels in at least a year, maybe two. We also had hamburgers and asparagus spears. Sooo good. More good: I ought to be able to sleep in in the morning. Both my parents are early risers, so Camden will bug them instead of me in the morning!
And this is a terrible update. Will update more Sunday night, hopefully with some AWESOME recital pics ^_^ (Maybe video, too!)
On the good side of the spectrum, though... My parents are here for a weekend-long visit (due to senior recital, of course). And even better: my dad found some morels this morning before they drove up here, so I got mushrooms for dinner! First time I've had morels in at least a year, maybe two. We also had hamburgers and asparagus spears. Sooo good. More good: I ought to be able to sleep in in the morning. Both my parents are early risers, so Camden will bug them instead of me in the morning!
And this is a terrible update. Will update more Sunday night, hopefully with some AWESOME recital pics ^_^ (Maybe video, too!)
05 April 2011
Don't name livestock
Yesterday, Camden learned (and I remembered) why we shouldn't name our food.
Halfway through a bag of gummiworms, he decided they needed names. After which, he said we had to keep them and not eat them. What a weirdo! (And on a side note, growing up, my family raised beef cows and pigs and chickens. And they all had names. Luckily, we weren't as sentimental as my kid. lol)
Halfway through a bag of gummiworms, he decided they needed names. After which, he said we had to keep them and not eat them. What a weirdo! (And on a side note, growing up, my family raised beef cows and pigs and chickens. And they all had names. Luckily, we weren't as sentimental as my kid. lol)
01 April 2011
Summer Skies
Today, I started dreaming of summer. After school, Camden and I went to play at the park. It was around 60 degrees, the sun was shining, the wind was blowing. It was cool without being cold. The grass is just beginning to really turn green. Oh, and there were clouds. Great, beautiful, puffy, white cumulus clouds. I spread out a blanket and just lay there watching them for about five minutes (before Camden was able to get me to get up and play). Watching clouds always reminds me of when I was a kid, during the summer I would watch clouds from the roof of an old milk barn that had been lost in a hillside forest. (Just recently, the owner of that hillside forest has cleared out all the trees, so it's just a hillside of scrub and cows and ruins of a house and milk barn. Such a shame, to lose all those trees.) Anyway, the sky reminded me of summer and I had/have a longing for a lazy summer afternoon, where nothing is due for class and I have nowhere to go and nowhere to be. Where time can be spent doing something as simple as lying in the grass watching the clouds go by as they morph from shape to shape. It takes me away, staring into the clouds, so that I am also a cloud, floating in the endless sea of blue skies with children running to stay in my shadow or to stay out of my shadow.
Alas, it is only just spring. We're still waiting for the soil to warm enough to plant our garden. (Which I am very excited about. I absolutely can't wait!) And waiting for it to be consistently warm enough to play outside. Ah, summer. Why must you be so far away?
Alas, it is only just spring. We're still waiting for the soil to warm enough to plant our garden. (Which I am very excited about. I absolutely can't wait!) And waiting for it to be consistently warm enough to play outside. Ah, summer. Why must you be so far away?
30 March 2011
Wish Bottle
Since I had a bit of interest in the wish bottle I made I thought I would write up a post giving a few more details about how I did it. (Either follow my example or make it up yourself)
The idea of the wish bottle comes from several different sources.
First, the idea of wishes. Everyone knows that if you blow on a dandelion puff while making a wish, it will come true if all the seeds are blown off. (Or, it will come true in as many days/weeks/months/years as there are seeds left on the stem.)
In Cecelia Ahern's book If You Could See Me Now (fiction), there is a part where the three main characters are catching (if I remember correctly) some sort of floating seed, telling it their wish, then sending it off where the Imaginary Friend Community (or whatever, it's been a few years since I read it) receives the wish and grants it or not. Since then, Camden and I have been wishing upon floating seeds of one sort or another and sending them to the fairies.
Also, the idea of the bottle came from some (non-magical, but very lovely) jewelry I saw on Etsy. I saw it and thought the idea of bottling a wish was clever. And I have a thing for glass bottles. They're just so pretty! Also, bottle spells in general aren't unheard of (a witch's bottle, anyone?), and they're fairly common in hoodoo. So, yay.
Anyway, on to the actual creation of my bottle.
Stuff needed:
Bottle of any size (I used a small glass vial, about 3 inches tall).
A small feather
A floating seed
Clean and purify your bottle. If it's actually dirty and you have to wash it, you might want to do this a day or two before working the spell to give it time to dry.
If you cast circles to work your magic, go ahead and do that.
Keeping your wish (for a specific thing, or a general idea like happiness, health, etc) in mind, put the feather into the bottle and say "Give my wish wings that it may soar to where wishes come true."
With your wish still in mind, put the seed into the bottle and say "Help my wish take root and grow so that this may be where wishes come true."
Speak your wish to the bottle. "I wish for a job/happiness/health/cool funky socks/what-have-you." Quickly cap or cork the bottle.
You can keep the bottle on your altar or display it elsewhere (mine is in a shadow box in the bedroom).
Or, for a simpler version (or if you just can't find the right bottle), pluck a dandelion seed whisper your wish to it, and let it go on a breeze.
The idea of the wish bottle comes from several different sources.
First, the idea of wishes. Everyone knows that if you blow on a dandelion puff while making a wish, it will come true if all the seeds are blown off. (Or, it will come true in as many days/weeks/months/years as there are seeds left on the stem.)
In Cecelia Ahern's book If You Could See Me Now (fiction), there is a part where the three main characters are catching (if I remember correctly) some sort of floating seed, telling it their wish, then sending it off where the Imaginary Friend Community (or whatever, it's been a few years since I read it) receives the wish and grants it or not. Since then, Camden and I have been wishing upon floating seeds of one sort or another and sending them to the fairies.
Also, the idea of the bottle came from some (non-magical, but very lovely) jewelry I saw on Etsy. I saw it and thought the idea of bottling a wish was clever. And I have a thing for glass bottles. They're just so pretty! Also, bottle spells in general aren't unheard of (a witch's bottle, anyone?), and they're fairly common in hoodoo. So, yay.
Anyway, on to the actual creation of my bottle.
Stuff needed:
Bottle of any size (I used a small glass vial, about 3 inches tall).
A small feather
A floating seed
Clean and purify your bottle. If it's actually dirty and you have to wash it, you might want to do this a day or two before working the spell to give it time to dry.
If you cast circles to work your magic, go ahead and do that.
Keeping your wish (for a specific thing, or a general idea like happiness, health, etc) in mind, put the feather into the bottle and say "Give my wish wings that it may soar to where wishes come true."
With your wish still in mind, put the seed into the bottle and say "Help my wish take root and grow so that this may be where wishes come true."
Speak your wish to the bottle. "I wish for a job/happiness/health/cool funky socks/what-have-you." Quickly cap or cork the bottle.
You can keep the bottle on your altar or display it elsewhere (mine is in a shadow box in the bedroom).
Or, for a simpler version (or if you just can't find the right bottle), pluck a dandelion seed whisper your wish to it, and let it go on a breeze.
28 March 2011
Speech stuff
Next week I'm taking Camden to COMO for a dr's appointment with a developmental pediatrician, where he'll be screened by a number of therapists/specialists (speech, occupational, physical, and so on). He's been diagnosed with apraxia, which is a neurological expressive speech disorder. With this appointment, I was really hoping to get him tested for food intolerances/sensitivities so we could determine whether or not a change of diet could be useful. Unfortunately, when I called today to see if I could set that up, they said that they would have to refer us to an allergist. Which is just as well, since I wouldn't be able to try a GF/CF diet until May, when I'm out of school and have time to prepare all his meals (including those he eats at school, since his school meals are almost entirely based off of grains and dairy). Anyway, despite the fact that they won't be able to test him for that, I will hopefully be getting more strategies and ideas to work with/pass along to his speech therapists here in KV.
I didn't know that living with his apraxia would be such hard work. I didn't realise that it would involve a lot of translation (I feel bad leaving him with people who don't know him, because he's just so hard to understand, and he gets frustrated and the person he's with gets frustrated). I didn't think he would have to fight so hard to make a sound that is easy for most people (thinking /k/ and /g/ here). I didn't think that I would be driven to tears multiple times a week, simply because I can't understand something that he's wanting to tell me. I didn't know that I would want to punch people (okay, certain person--unnamed) for telling me that he's not doing it because he's lazy (the apraxia dx was a huge in your face). I didn't realise how frustrating it would be to have to drill the same idea over and over and over every day, several times a day.
Of course, I also didn't know how my heart would soar with happiness and pride when he automatically uses the right word (saying I want instead of me want for example) or puts the right sounds together for the word that he wants. Or when his speech therapists tell me that he's their favourite patient. I didn't know that he would work so hard to be understood, by repeating what he says, trying to enunciate, saying it a different way, gesturing, etc.
We are far from the end of our journey with apraxia, but every day Camden makes improvement. He says I with increasing frequency, though not nearly as often as we would like. A year ago, he couldn't tell a story. He can now tell a short story about his day. A year ago, he used 1, 2 and 3 word sentences almost exclusively. Now his sentences can reach up to 6 or 7 or 8 words long, though he still uses a lot of shorter sentences. He does a lot more creative and imagination play now than he used to (though that might just be part of growing up/normal development?).
He makes my heart sing every day that I know him, and every day that I know him I love him more.
A story (not mine, obviously):
WELCOME TO HOLLAND
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability
- to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand
it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip -
to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The
Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some
handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags
and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in
and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm
supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and
there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting,
filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different
place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new
language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have
met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than
Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you
look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and
Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all
bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your
life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had
planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of
that dream is a very very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy,
you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ...
about Holland.
by
Emily Perl Kingsley.
c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved
I didn't know that living with his apraxia would be such hard work. I didn't realise that it would involve a lot of translation (I feel bad leaving him with people who don't know him, because he's just so hard to understand, and he gets frustrated and the person he's with gets frustrated). I didn't think he would have to fight so hard to make a sound that is easy for most people (thinking /k/ and /g/ here). I didn't think that I would be driven to tears multiple times a week, simply because I can't understand something that he's wanting to tell me. I didn't know that I would want to punch people (okay, certain person--unnamed) for telling me that he's not doing it because he's lazy (the apraxia dx was a huge in your face). I didn't realise how frustrating it would be to have to drill the same idea over and over and over every day, several times a day.
Of course, I also didn't know how my heart would soar with happiness and pride when he automatically uses the right word (saying I want instead of me want for example) or puts the right sounds together for the word that he wants. Or when his speech therapists tell me that he's their favourite patient. I didn't know that he would work so hard to be understood, by repeating what he says, trying to enunciate, saying it a different way, gesturing, etc.
We are far from the end of our journey with apraxia, but every day Camden makes improvement. He says I with increasing frequency, though not nearly as often as we would like. A year ago, he couldn't tell a story. He can now tell a short story about his day. A year ago, he used 1, 2 and 3 word sentences almost exclusively. Now his sentences can reach up to 6 or 7 or 8 words long, though he still uses a lot of shorter sentences. He does a lot more creative and imagination play now than he used to (though that might just be part of growing up/normal development?).
He makes my heart sing every day that I know him, and every day that I know him I love him more.
A story (not mine, obviously):
WELCOME TO HOLLAND
I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability
- to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand
it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......
When you're going to have a baby, it's like planning a fabulous vacation trip -
to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The
Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some
handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags
and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in
and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm
supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and
there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting,
filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different
place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new
language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have
met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than
Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you
look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and
Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all
bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your
life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had
planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of
that dream is a very very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy,
you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ...
about Holland.
by
Emily Perl Kingsley.
c1987 by Emily Perl Kingsley. All rights reserved
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