Camden and I really enjoyed our first weekend of Autumn. Saturday was really like any Saturday, but Sunday was spectacular.
Camden managed to drag me out of the house and to the park (I didn't want to go, because it was still chilly). By the time we got there, however, the temperature was feeling quite nice. So we spent some time playing on the equipment: throwing toys up and down the slides to each other and me chasing him around a bit. Then he wanted to go down the hill and check out the cannons (there is a veteran memorial type thing at this park). So we went down the hill and over the bridge and made it as far as a walnut tree, where Camden decided it would be more fun to pick up walnuts and throw them at the trunk. ... I agreed. ^_^
Then we went back across the bridge, and as we did so, the wind picked up and the leaves started dropping. So Camden and I decided to spend some time chasing leaves. We took off our jackets and shoes and ran around like the heathens we are, jumping, and spinning, and laughing as we tried to catch leaves out of the air. After a wee bit of that, we just lay in the grass, watching the sky and the trees and the gently falling leaves. After a bit, Camden decided it was time to go home.
As we walked up a hill that was (thankfully) more grass than rocks, Camden decided he wanted to roll down it. So he did. Eventually we made our way home. In the field of grass next to our house, I just happened to catch a grasshopper.
And this grasshopper just happened to meet his end, thanks to a spider Camden and I have been feeding moths and other bugs to. Should I feel bad for feeding the grasshopper to the spider? Perhaps. But Camden enjoyed it, and afterwards we looked at pictures of spiders (and other bugs) on the interwebs and learned a bit about them. Teaching opportunities, I say!
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
26 September 2011
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
05 May 2010
Pagan-Friendly Children's Books
Now that my Tuesday nights are free and we are no longer running helter skelter from sunup to sundown, I've started taking Camden to the library once a week. And while the public library here in the 'Ville is pretty small, it has a large enough children's section. Plus it has games and puzzles and puppets (oh my!) to play with, even though we can't check them out. But we can check out books, and we do! We've been averaging about 7 or 8 books a week, so far. Of course, we read them all the first night and then they're old for the next six days, until Tuesday rolls around again.
Tuesday night we went to a BBQ with some friends, so although we went to the library, we didn't have a chance to read through all the books. (Darn.) But! We got to read through them last night! Camden picks out most of the books, usually randomly pulling them off the shelves and saying "I want this one" or some facsimile thereof. One of the books he picked out is called Hoodwinked by Arthur Howard and is about a witch (gasp!) who is looking for a pet (familiar, perchance?), but since she likes all things creepy, it must be a creepy pet. However, all the pets she tries just don't work out for one reason or another... Until one shows up at her doorstep, one that she's convinced she does not want, until she realises that this is the perfect pet.
As we read this, I started thinking about books for children with a Pagan message. Hoodwinked is a good example of a book that contains a message, if you're looking for a message. I know there are a few books out there geared specifically towards Pagan parents who are raising their children on a Pagan path, but I don't think I'm going to find those books in my public library. The only other book that I can think of off the top of my head which contains a Pagan message (if you're looking for one) is There's No Such Place As Far Away by Richard Bach, in which a person travels with various birds to visit Little Rae on her birthday to give her a present.
What books do you read to your children/grandchildren/nieces/nephews/random kids off the street which contain the subtle coloring of Pagan ideals and beliefs? If they are your children and you're raising them to the path, do you discuss the Pagan slant one could put on the book?
Tuesday night we went to a BBQ with some friends, so although we went to the library, we didn't have a chance to read through all the books. (Darn.) But! We got to read through them last night! Camden picks out most of the books, usually randomly pulling them off the shelves and saying "I want this one" or some facsimile thereof. One of the books he picked out is called Hoodwinked by Arthur Howard and is about a witch (gasp!) who is looking for a pet (familiar, perchance?), but since she likes all things creepy, it must be a creepy pet. However, all the pets she tries just don't work out for one reason or another... Until one shows up at her doorstep, one that she's convinced she does not want, until she realises that this is the perfect pet.
As we read this, I started thinking about books for children with a Pagan message. Hoodwinked is a good example of a book that contains a message, if you're looking for a message. I know there are a few books out there geared specifically towards Pagan parents who are raising their children on a Pagan path, but I don't think I'm going to find those books in my public library. The only other book that I can think of off the top of my head which contains a Pagan message (if you're looking for one) is There's No Such Place As Far Away by Richard Bach, in which a person travels with various birds to visit Little Rae on her birthday to give her a present.
What books do you read to your children/grandchildren/nieces/nephews/random kids off the street which contain the subtle coloring of Pagan ideals and beliefs? If they are your children and you're raising them to the path, do you discuss the Pagan slant one could put on the book?
19 March 2010
Reading and SPRING!
When Camden and I read books, it usually consists of me reading through the book, then picking up another one and reading through that one. Sometimes I'll point to a picture and ask him to tell me what it is, or I'll ask him to point at something on the page.
However, last week I bought Dinner Games, which is a game that you play at dinner. Obviously. It comes in a little tin with 51 cards that have fun dinnertime activities or games. Well, a few of these are stories that someone reads, and there are questions about what happened in the story, the names of certain characters, etc. It really made me think about the way I read to Camden, and whether he's actually taking the story in. Because when we did the dinnertime story, he was unable to answer any of the questions about a story that was maybe ten sentences long.
So I think it's time to start working on his critical thinking skills! He seems pretty excited about Ostara tomorrow, goodness only knows why, so I read him a story about why the hare brings eggs to the children. I also told him that if he goes to bed on time, the hare might bring him some goodies. My mom always hid our spring baskets (okay, Easter baskets) and it was always exciting waking up and trying to find them. I'm going to hide his spring basket with a trail of little chocolate eggs and bunnies leading to it. Now I just have to figure out where to hide it.
Speaking of Ostara, tomorrow is the first day of Spring! And it's supposed to snow here. Oh, the irony! It was 58 degrees today and tomorrow's forecast is calling for a high of 34 I think. Something is horribly, horribly wrong. Ah, well, soon the snow will be but a memory, and I'll be cursing the heat.
However, last week I bought Dinner Games, which is a game that you play at dinner. Obviously. It comes in a little tin with 51 cards that have fun dinnertime activities or games. Well, a few of these are stories that someone reads, and there are questions about what happened in the story, the names of certain characters, etc. It really made me think about the way I read to Camden, and whether he's actually taking the story in. Because when we did the dinnertime story, he was unable to answer any of the questions about a story that was maybe ten sentences long.
So I think it's time to start working on his critical thinking skills! He seems pretty excited about Ostara tomorrow, goodness only knows why, so I read him a story about why the hare brings eggs to the children. I also told him that if he goes to bed on time, the hare might bring him some goodies. My mom always hid our spring baskets (okay, Easter baskets) and it was always exciting waking up and trying to find them. I'm going to hide his spring basket with a trail of little chocolate eggs and bunnies leading to it. Now I just have to figure out where to hide it.
Speaking of Ostara, tomorrow is the first day of Spring! And it's supposed to snow here. Oh, the irony! It was 58 degrees today and tomorrow's forecast is calling for a high of 34 I think. Something is horribly, horribly wrong. Ah, well, soon the snow will be but a memory, and I'll be cursing the heat.
14 March 2010
Spring cleaning
Today I cleaned. And cleaned. And cleaned some more. One reason is the spring cleaning bug bit me, I think. I would like to start of the Spring season with a clean apartment. Actually, I'd like to start off *any* season with a clean apartment. Maybe this time the apartment will stay cleaner for longer than four hours? Not likely, but I have hopes!
Another reason for the deep cleaning, other than the fact that it needed to be done, is I'm trying to prepare for moving day in May. Although we're moving from a one bedroom loft to a two bedroom duplex, I don't think the new apartment is actually bigger than my current one, just rearranged differently. Which means there's no way I'm carting all the stuff we have here into the new place. Mainly stuff in the form of clothing and toys. Because, obviously, I need all of my kitchen stuff,despite the fact the new kitchen is about half the size of my current one.
So lots of clothes, toys, and books have been boxed/bagged up for yard sale fodder or donation, or they've been trashed if completely unusable. And thanks to the decluttering, I was able to rearrange the toy corner, so the toys are once again contained and hopefully not spilling out to the rest of the living room. And Camden can reach all of his toys and games without my assistance.
Like anything, it will take work to maintain. I'm hoping I cantrain teach Camden that picking up his toys is better than leaving them lying about; hopefully, I can convince myself of that, too!
Another reason for the deep cleaning, other than the fact that it needed to be done, is I'm trying to prepare for moving day in May. Although we're moving from a one bedroom loft to a two bedroom duplex, I don't think the new apartment is actually bigger than my current one, just rearranged differently. Which means there's no way I'm carting all the stuff we have here into the new place. Mainly stuff in the form of clothing and toys. Because, obviously, I need all of my kitchen stuff,
So lots of clothes, toys, and books have been boxed/bagged up for yard sale fodder or donation, or they've been trashed if completely unusable. And thanks to the decluttering, I was able to rearrange the toy corner, so the toys are once again contained and hopefully not spilling out to the rest of the living room. And Camden can reach all of his toys and games without my assistance.
Like anything, it will take work to maintain. I'm hoping I can
13 March 2010
Friendly fire
When I was a kid, I played with guns. Not actual guns, but water guns, toy guns, stick and finger and rubber band guns. Hell, my brothers and sisters and I shot bottle rockets at each other. We carried on the tradition of being children growing up in the middle of nowhere, the tradition of a world before school shooting and terrorism. And now, I have my own son, who seems intent on carrying on that tradition... Despite the fact that I would rather he didn't.
I am not a fan of guns. When a child points his obviously-play rifle at me and says "BANG," something inside me wilts and I fear I will never get it back. And now my son is doing it. I understand why, somewhat. My dad hunts with a muzzle loader. Cam watches Bugs Bunny cartoons, which are filled to the brim with guns, dynamite, and falling anvils. Last night and this morning we watched WALL-E, and as Cam was quick to point out, Eve has a gun.
Is it hypocritical of me to allow him to watch these cartoons and yet scold him when he points his finger at someone in Wal-mart in the act of "shooting" them? I don't think allowing him to play guns will turn him into a mass murderer or anything-- but the thought of him play-shooting me still makes me squeamish. Is it even more hypocritical of me that I don't mind him dealing a killing blow with a sword, but guns are off-limits?
Is it silly of me to try to ban what is, for better or worse, a part of our culture? Should I compromise to no shooting at people. Or should I just let him play, knowing that he doesn't mean anything by it and that there will never be an actual gun in my house that could hurt him/others?
I am not a fan of guns. When a child points his obviously-play rifle at me and says "BANG," something inside me wilts and I fear I will never get it back. And now my son is doing it. I understand why, somewhat. My dad hunts with a muzzle loader. Cam watches Bugs Bunny cartoons, which are filled to the brim with guns, dynamite, and falling anvils. Last night and this morning we watched WALL-E, and as Cam was quick to point out, Eve has a gun.
Is it hypocritical of me to allow him to watch these cartoons and yet scold him when he points his finger at someone in Wal-mart in the act of "shooting" them? I don't think allowing him to play guns will turn him into a mass murderer or anything-- but the thought of him play-shooting me still makes me squeamish. Is it even more hypocritical of me that I don't mind him dealing a killing blow with a sword, but guns are off-limits?
Is it silly of me to try to ban what is, for better or worse, a part of our culture? Should I compromise to no shooting at people. Or should I just let him play, knowing that he doesn't mean anything by it and that there will never be an actual gun in my house that could hurt him/others?
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