"Mom? I'm bored."
I think to myself...and so it begins.
"Can we do a science experiment?"
Oh good! I've got some of those. I dig through our collection of Magic School Bus science club mailings and read off the choices. Bacteria and Fungi? No. Weather experiments? Yes! Build your own weather station...sounds fun! So we get to work.
An hour later we have a wind vane, a rain gauge, a thermometer, a wet sponge (something about air saturation/100% humidity and rain), and two bottles connected together that are supposed to show a "vortex" or indoor tornado. I think we did that one wrong.
After reading all the interesting facts and filling out the scientist's workbook, Max says, "Mom? Weather is boring..."
Maybe we'll try Bacteria and Fungi next. *gulp*
Imagines our house as ground zero for a new plague outbreak. With zombies. Stay tuned.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
"Mom? I'm bored."
Saturday, June 20, 2015
Once upon a time, I would swing through the McDonald's drive-thru several times each week on my way to work. I looked forward to those thick and juicy sausage patties, crispy hash browns, and generous portions of scrambled eggs. Or I'd choose a nice sausage McMuffin with egg - the egg would be perfectly round and thick after being cooked to perfection in a form on the griddle and the muffin was high quality (like a Thomas' English Muffin), brushed with butter after being lightly toasted. In other words, quality ingredients made the same way, every day, hot and fresh. I could count on it.
Then things began to change. The sausage patty got smaller and thinner. The portion of scrambled eggs got smaller and smaller. The hash browns were no longer crisp on the outside and soft inside...they were just mushy and often squashed into a greasy stain at the bottom of my bag, all glued to that sad paper sleeve. The egg McMuffin? The egg was no longer cooked perfectly round and thick, it turned into a sad shriveled little yolk with only the slightest amount of white clinging to it. And the so-called muffin - ick! It had been substituted with this crumbly bun-like substitute that fell apart at my first bite. It was more like a biscuit! I hate biscuits. It wasn't even toasted any more. And it tastes horrible. Grainy, doughy and slightly sweet. All wrong.
I stopped going through the drive-thru at McDonalds. Breakfast there is no longer a treat. Sometimes months will go by and I'll kind of forget how bad things have gotten and I'll remember the good times when the food was great. Then I'll run through and grab some breakfast only to be bitterly disappointed.
I think today was my last sausage McMuffin. My heart can no longer take the crushing let-down.
Wednesday, June 17, 2015
My blog hasn't been very entertaining, lately. It's gone back to being a therapy tool where I spill out all my frustrations, failings and sadness. This post isn't going to be amusing either. Sorry.
It's the end of the school year and that means all those fun end-of-the-school-year things. Field Day was an absolute blast for Max and an absolute nightmare for Tyler. Yes, they made him go outside and tried to make him participate. He has learned that the only way to get out of situations that he can't handle is to "play sick". This so called special needs environment he's been in seems to ignore him when he is trying to tell them he can't handle something. So he cries headache or stomach ache and goes to the nurse. Then we get a phone call.
They used to let him call home from his classroom when he was starting to feel overwhelmed, but that suddenly stopped about a month ago. Right about the time his teacher vanished. We still have no idea what happened to her, but who ever took over the classroom obviously has no idea how to help my son. They ignore his requests to call home and do things like send us text messages every day asking for a permission slip or pestering us about whether Tyler will be attending XYZ event. Awards ceremony? No. Crowds + buffet dinner with associated food smells + music + endless presentations and talking = meltdown. Field Day? Yeah. We asked them to exempt him from that event. Why? Bright sunlight + heat + crowds + noise level + loud music + allergies = meltdown. End of year BBQ at some park 30+ minutes away? Bus ride + crowds + sun + heat + noise + BBQ food smells = meltdown. Hello?! DO THE MATH.
How many times do we need to tell them about his sensory issues? No, we are not coddling him. No, we are not letting him "get away with stuff." No, we are not encouraging him to just "stay home, nap, and eat ice cream." YOU are trying to put him into situations where he just can't cope. Simple. And pestering us with daily text messages and emails and ignoring everything we say about WHY our son won't be participating is not going to push us into changing our minds.
Or is it. Poor John got so worried over the constant push to make Tyler attend the end of year BBQ that he finally broke down and gave permission for Ty to attend ONLY if he could drive him there, personally (thus avoiding the bus) and ONLY if they had the understanding that if Tyler was feeling overwhelmed, John would just take him right back home. The problem? This was the day before the event. Tyler needs at least a week to get used to the idea of needing to be somewhere he doesn't like. Sometimes more time. He'd already been told he didn't need to go to the stupid picnic. Now, they bullied and pestered poor John into telling our boy he was going.
no notice + breaking a promise + being pushed into something = meltdown
Thanks for that. Did he go to the stupid picnic today? Nope. He has barricaded himself in his bedroom, eaten nothing, and refused to go to school. At all. He might not go tomorrow either. Not that it's a big hairy deal. That's the last day. A half-day. But still... None of this drama was necessary.
Get your act together, ILA. You should know better! If you want to have a fun event that is more inclusive, why not have it INDOORS, in an environment the kids are familiar with (like, the school), break the kids up into smaller groups and maybe have something fun in each classroom (chess/board games in one, video games in another, food in another, music and dancing in another, perhaps a short outdoor activity like a water balloon fight) and let the kids choose. Limit the amount of kids in each room and rotate so everyone has a chance with one quiet room for kids who are done and just want to chill. Tyler would be all over THAT kind of party.
And they wonder why these kids sometimes beat their heads against a wall. Hell, I want to do that now.
Thursday, June 04, 2015
Max told me the saddest thing today. Just because he has pocket money for snacks, his friends think we are wealthy and ask him to buy them things. I said, "I hope you corrected them...because snack money for you is about ALL we can afford. We are so very far from rich." (Plus I just worry about him going hungry all day if he doesn't like what they serve for lunch.)
He told me "No way! If I told them we weren't rich, no one would like me. Nobody likes poor people."
I was horrified and deeply sad that he thinks no one would like him if they knew he wasn't wealthy. I told him no one in our town is "wealthy". If we were truly rich, we'd be living somewhere ELSE. (No offense to my fellow town residents. LMAO But if we won the lottery, we'd be moving to a McMansion compound near the shore.)
I just don't know where/how he picked up on this burden of shame society puts on people from lower income brackets. There is nothing wrong with being from a working class family! Sure, we'd all like to be better off, have nicer stuff, and we play the lottery (I never said we were the smartest of smart people. lol) But I come back to the core of the issue. Pocket money. We always make sure Max has a little spending money. School Store day, in particular, is a big deal. Max LOVES buying the little trinkets from the school store once a month. Is it true that hardly any other parents give a buck or two to their kids, just in case? Is Max really the only kid walking around with $2 in his pocket every day?
I know we had issues over this kind of thing in the past. In Kindergarten, we'd give Max just enough change to buy an ice cream at lunch. There was another child who started begging Max for money. That swiftly turned into demands for money, but a teacher overheard one day and called this child's parents in for a discussion about their child extorting money from our boy. They felt really badly and made the boy pay Max back. We were careful to instruct Max that the money we gave him was HIS and he did NOT have to give it to anyone. Nor should he feel like he had to buy things for people. If his little "friends" told him they wouldn't BE his "friends" if he didn't fork over the cash, then that meant they were not his friends to begin with. No true friend takes your money.
Yes, we had to revisit this in first grade. Max was spending his pocket money on friends and coming home sad because he couldn't afford the snacks he wanted. Or the school store items he craved.
I have a feeling this is going to be an on-going battle. He is a people pleaser and loves being the center of attention. The temptation to "buy" his friends is very strong! I fell into the same trap when I was in 7th grade. I was so desperate to be liked, I spent my hard earned babysitting money on gifts or snacks for girls I wished would be friendly toward me (instead of hateful bitches.) *sigh* And no, it didn't work. It never works. You can't buy real friendship.
Then there is that deeper issue. Where DID Max get the impression that being financially restricted (i.e. POOR) was something to hide? To feel shame over? We can't help where the economy has placed us. Heck, we are luckier than many. John makes just enough that I can stay at home with the boys. We are in debt, can't afford real vacations, and are one paycheck away from total disaster, but we limp along and make it work. I never say "don't tell your friends we can't afford to buy you Under Armor or name brand sneakers!" I have no hesitation in saying we do most of our shopping at Walmart. I've never even seen the inside of a Trader Joe's and I have no problem telling people that.
I'm going to have to dig deeper and see if I can figure out where this is coming from.
Posted by Becky at 3:38 PM