Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
I know, I've been terrible about keeping up with the bloggy lately. Especially when my last post was so emotionally charged. I should know better to leave little updates after my emotional rants. Being a kindergarten Mom involves much more than I imagined along with my full-time job, being a full-time Mom to a 3 year-old, etc..etc..etc...Heck, I even missed out on sending out Christmas Cards. I might as well wait until Valentines day and send out cards then.
Just for fun. I managed to link my blog to Facebook. One time FB was not able to publish my pictures and video. So if that happens just go the direct link for my blog at
This past weekend, I spent some time getting beautified with my half-yearly haircut and color. The grey hairs on my head were becoming too comfortable with their position and were staring to build support groups and plotting to take over the pigmented hairs that still surround them. Ashley came to the rescue with a nice mixture of warm, mahogany, brown, mixed with copper tones. When I describe it, it sounds like a piece of art. To Ashley's credit, she IS an artist. (or a miracle worker and savior to my pigmented hairs.) After that I spent Sunday with some of my historic girlfriends from high school (without children) and went to see Wicked in San Francisco and out for a nice meal. (without children=warm food, strong drinks, no interruptions.) It was fabulous.
Grant rescued me from the Bart station at the end of the night and we started the hour and a half pilgrimage back to Sacramento. As we were unloading the sleeping children from the car a thought occurred to me..
Me: "I don't see Mr. Moo. Did you remember to bring Mr. Moo?"
Grant: "I think so....no wait...Dammit!"
Let me take a minute to back up and let you all know who Mr. Moo is and how instrumental he is in our lives. Mr. Moo is technically a fuzzy, stuffed, transitional object, used to wean Chase from his addiction to binkies. After some strong coaxing, encouragement, and crying fits, Chase eventually accepted the trade and became used to sleeping with Mr. Moo instead of the highly addictive, dentist dreaded, binky.
The following morning, I called up Pop and Granne to discover that Mr. Moo was indeed in Danville (an hour and a half drive from our house.) Granne spoke with Chase on the phone and promised him she would take great care of Mr. Moo and he would enjoy his little "vacation" with her and Pop until he could hitch a ride home with Nanny and Papa on Christmas Eve. This means 3 WHOLE DAYS WITHOUT MR. MOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Granne took her promise very seriously and has sent Chase emails and picture updates from Mr. Moo. Here is what followed.
Mr. Moo slept in the Christmas Tree last night. He is having fun on his vacation.
(two hours later)
Pop, is taking good care of Mr. Moo.
(A few more hours later)
Moo is watching TV with Santa.
(Later that evening...this was sent via email entitled: "Moo is right")
Moo is taking in the Drudge report before bed.
To this I replied....
"Mr. Moo is quite the political activist." (I always thought he was quite liberal, until Pop got a hold of him.)
Before Chase went to bed, he read all the email updates and looked at all Mr. Moo's pictures and asked to call him. Pop and Granne put the phone on speaker and let Chase sing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" to Mr. Moo and say "good night." After we hung up, Chase sent the following email.
Hi Mr. Moo, (translated word for word from Chase)
I miss you! Come home soon. I love to sleep with you Mr. Moo. Good night!
To this, Mr. Moo replied:
Title: Good Night !
I really really miss you. I can't wait to see you in 3 days! Nanny will bring me home.
This morning, Mr. Moo was busy again. He's enjoying his vacation by spending time in Pop's new toy.
"Mr. Moo likes to go fast."
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Let me explain for everyone what Kindergarten is like today. It's not about sitting on the floor singing about colors and playing with playdough. The kids have homework every night!!! This translates into, Grant and I have homework EVERY NIGHT!!! Damn! We couldn't even finish our own homework when we were in school and now we are expected to produce homework via Quinn. Do these teachers know who they are working with? So the kids are expected to be reading and writing by the time they finish Kinder. I fully expect Quinn to balance my checkbook, pay the bills, and put together my grocery list with all the homework we have to do together.
So back to the email....
Hi Bonnie and Grant,I was hoping that we can all meet some time soon so that you can provide me with the best information and strategies that you use with Quinn at home. Quinn has struggled in class with today being his most difficult day. I would like to discuss some of his behaviors so that you know some of his challenges at school and can possibly give me some input on what works best for Quinn. He is a sweet little boy. Please email me and let me know if we can meet after 3 pm any day this week. Thank you.
If you know me, I tend to read between the lines when I get messages from people. This is what I heard..
Your kid is being a punk at school. Do you discipline him at home, because he sure doesn't act like it? Is there anything you do to make him stop being a punk? Please meet with me right away before he punks the wrong kid in class and gets his ass beat down on the playground. Oh and I added that he's a sweet boy because he is good looking and all.
Your Diligent Teacher
So yesterday we go to meet Quinn's teacher and her sister to discuss his behaviors. Let me explain what Quinn's teacher is like. She very thin, tan skinned, strikingly beautiful, Indian woman, with a mild manner. Her beauty is matched by no one other than her twin sister who teaches the morning kindergarten class and co-teaches with Ms. B. They could be super models..honestly. Ms. B is very serious and direct. When I speak with her I feel like a big, dorky, goofy, Anglo woman. I mean I am a big, dorky, goofy, Anglo woman...but it's amplified in her presence.
We met with the special education teacher, Ms. B, and her supermodel, identical, sister. We discussed the lack of ongoing accomodations for Quinn in the classroom and how he is mentally checked out in the classroom. He spends most of his day laying under the table and not participating in class. Listening to them discuss his behaviors made me slowly float out of my body and go to this protective place. This is MY BABY they are talking about and he's PERFECT in my eyes. Why doesn't Ms. B or Supermodel understand this? Don't supermodel teachers understand that Quinn is exceptional? Oh wait... back to reality. My lip quivvered and my eyes welled up with tears. I sucked back my breath, swallowed the knot in my throat as I heard Supermodel say, "he's really not getting much out of class with his behavior like this. He needs more help."
After a while, the special ed teacher left and Ms. B transformed into something different. Her voice became serious and direct like a hot knife in butter. She said, "Now that the special ed teacher is gone, I'm going to suggest "off the record" that you as parents request a full time aid for Quinn in in the classroom." She went on to say that other students with his challenges in the past really benefitted from this and she was surprised that Quinn didn't already have this accomodation in place. She also said that the school district doesn't like to offer this because it's expensive and they don't want to pay for it so they will try to offer us other things first. She went on to say she has tried the other techniques already and they are not working. She feels this would be the most helpful for Quinn. The only problem is that Ms. B was not supposed to share this information with us. She gave us a sharpened spear to use in our battle with the IEP lords.
My heart suddenly grew two extra spots for the supermodels. They may rub off as being serious and direct, but they care about their students and want what's best for my Quinn.
And the quest for more services continues.....
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Thursday, May 21, 2009
On to more serious matters. My vacation is over. I had a wonderful time and I'll be posting my short video clips soon. They were so fun to put together, that I cannot keep them from my friends and family. They must be shared, talked about, and laughed over for at least 10 minutes.
So why does everything have to happen at the same time? Life never seems to spread things out and to make it more manageable for working parents. I'll be honest...being a working mother has been one of the hardest challenges. How can I possibly be the superstar mother of the year for my children and be an awesome employee at the same time.. The truth is I'm failing at both. (or so it feels that way.)
I won't sugar coat it..life has been very hard lately. Quinn has had several appointments via the school district psychologist, special education teacher, and speech pathologist to assess his level of functioning. At first, Quinn performed eagerly and cooperated with the teachers. During this process, I decided to take a trip out of country to see Japan and catch up with my big bro. It was poor timing... Since I've returned from my trip, Quinn has been making me suffer for my time away and has begun to act out in school and refuses to cooperate with testing or his speech therapy. When I drop Quinn off at daycare in the morning, I try a Mission Impossible sort of covert action to leave him there without making contact with the teacher (Ms. Asha.) Unfortunately, she pulled a ninja stunt move and blocked my exit from the classroom yesterday and gave me a list of things that Quinn refused to do.
I'm sure Ms. Asha used more sincere and polite terms to describe Quinn's behavior, but what I heard was....
"Your kid is a punk..he wont listen to anyone...he doesn't participate in class...when confronted about his inappropriate behavior he karate kicked a teacher and used preschool slurs like "poo oo head." He's ruined..you've failed as a mother..and your son will grow up to be an even bigger punk, loser, and delinquent...Call the closest military school and beg for their mercy ASAP."
Then this morning, Quinn went to speech therapy where he refused to listen to the speech pathologist and glared at her as if she were the object of his hate, pain, and misery. He ended up hiding behind a poster stand and only came out when he could see my eyes turning red and the steam seeping from my ears. Before we left, the speech pathologist asked if "something is different at home."
What is different? Should I tell her that I filed for divorce, that I killed Chase last night in his fit of rage over a juice sippy and then buried him in my flower bed? I hate my job...but that's nothing new...and I've been leading a double life and my trip to Tokyo was a cover for my covert Mission Impossible jobs. NOTHING IS DIFFERENT!!!!
These are the questions I've been mulling around in my head. The only change I can think about is my trip to Japan. But I've been home for nearly 2 weeks. Could Quinn still be fretting over my trip? Is he sick of all the academic testing? Why is he being a punk? Why won't he listen to me? Why has it taken this long for an African-American president to be elected?
And then I noticed on his IEP (individualized education plan) letter that there was a box marked for "special day class." I'm not sure if that was a mistake or if the school is actually thinking about placing Quinn in a "special day class." I can not stop thinking about my sinking ship of a dream for Quinn to snap out of it and start acting like his peers and attend "normal kindergarten" as all of his friends are. I've even watched as the other kids in his speech therapy class have graduated out of the program and are moving on while Quinn is still there.
I'm preparing for the meeting tomorrow and I'm bringing tissues. I've attended hundreds of IEP meetings for clients at work and watched as parents broke down in tears hearing about their child's disabilities. Now I understand what it feels like to be a parent with all of your hopes and expectations for your child as a team of "professionals" talk in matter-of-fact terms about your child's deficits. I really trust this team of professionals and they know that I'm well versed on the in's and outs of IEP meetings. I know they will do their best to offer help for Quinn as he starts Kindergarten. This is my stuff. My feelings.. my own mommy guilt.
Next I have to figure out how to help Grant back off and let the professionals play their part in offering help to Quinn. This has been immensely difficult for me but probably more so for Grant because he's never been to an IEP meeting and does not understand all the psychological terms.
I'll post more about the results of the IEP when it happens.
Thursday, May 7, 2009
I:ve seen lots of neato stuff and stayed in a traditional style Japanese hotel. The owner got down on all fours and bowed to me when I arrived. Grant doesn't even do that for me. I went into a traditional Japanese bath (onsen) and forgot and wore the wrong slippers into the bathroom. (\this really freaked out a Japanese lady.. oops) I went for a walk last night wearing a kimono and wooden slippers. I:m sure my underwear was hanging out the back.
This morning Ｉ ｆｉｓｈ， ｒｉｃｅ，ａｎｄ ｐｉｃｋｌｅｄ ｖｅｇｅｔａｂｌｅｓ ｆｏｒ ｂｒｅａｋｆａｓｔ． Ｉ：ｖｅ ｅａｔｅｎ ｓｏ ｍｕｃｈ ｒａｗ ｆｉｓｈ ａｎｄ ｍｅａｔ ｉｔｓ ｕｎｒｅａｌ． Ｉ：ｄ ｌｏｖｅ ｔｏ ｇｏ ｉｎｔｏ ｍｏｒｅ ｄｅｔａｉｌ ｂｕｔ ｍｙ ｔｉｍｅ ｉｓ ｕｐ ａｔ ｔｈｅ ｉｎｔｅｒｎｅｔ ｃａｆｅ． ￥ｔｈｉｓ ｍｅｓｓａｇｅ ｐｒｏｂａｂｌｙ ｃｏｓｔ ｍｅ ａｂｏｕｔ ３０ ｄｏｌｌａｒｓ． ｈａ ｈａ．．
Ｍｉｓｓ ｙｏｕ ａｌｌ．
Ｐｉｃｔｕｒｅｓ ｔｏ ｃｏｍｅ ｗｈｅｎ Ｉ ｇｅｔ ｂａｃｋ．
Sunday, May 3, 2009
I know it's been ages since I updated the blog, but I thought I should share a little about my trip over seas. The is the furthest I've ever been away from home and the longest I've ever been away from my boys.
I won't bore everyone with all the details of my trip and the names of all the cities, blah, blah blah, blah. I've read about a trillion emails from friends and family that describe their trip in so much detail, that I walk away angry and jealous that I wasn't on vacation with them. I'll leave you with some tidbits that I discovered while I was here.
#1 Japanese women are very shy... so shy that they can't pee if someone else can hear them peeing. Some of the public toilets will make a rushing water sound to mask the sound you make when you go pee. (As my ass hit the toilet seat, I jumped at the sound of rushing water...it was like the sound of my water breaking except I'm not prenant or in labor.)
#2 The grocery store is much like going to an auction. Employees sell the food to you by yelling out about how fresh and delicious it is. People are eveywhere. I took a video of this and intend to post it later so you can see how crazy the Tokyu Food Show is.
#3 Some toilets will squirt water up you ass if you press the wrong button. (No explanation needed.)
#4 Bow a lot and learn to say you're sorry over and over again, even if it's not your fault. It seems like this would be a good cusom to adapt in the U.S.
I have to run now. I have no pictures to share because I forgot my USB cable at home.
More to come...
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Yea, that's my kind of guy. He looks like Cupid without the arrow or wings. Well, we tried the wings but that's where Chase drew the line. "No Mommy, I can't wear wings." Of course he had no problem running around the house and back yard naked in the middle of winter. I feel a bit guilty...I mean it's one thing to take photos of your pets like this...but the kids!!! I'm making Brittney Spears look like Mother of the Year. I made sure to send a copy of this photo out to all our friends and family so they can continue to blackmail Chase for the rest of his life.
Grant decided on a whim to install Chase's Big Boy bed. He's smart for not consulting with me because I would have gone through my mourning ritual that I go through when I pack away more baby stuff and old clothes. The crib was the last sign that a baby resided in our home. This means our family has officially graduated into a new era of child rearing. When I saw what he was doing, I bet my tongue, sucked back the tears, and tried to hold it together. I think one of my ovaries responded by aching and trying to ovulate early.
So here's the man putting the big boy bed together.
The boys enjoy a fun project and they grabbed their tools and tried to help. I didn't help at all. I observed while holding a box of tissues, trying not to ovulate.
Friday, January 30, 2009
As if we don't have enough irritable men around this house. Someone help me! I'm dying in a sea of irritable boys between the ages of 2 and 32! I'm packing the car and I'm headed for Tahoe...er further out than that. I'll be back in about 16 years. Don't leave the light on for me.
So I did what any mother in my anxious shoes would do. I researched Namenda on Google. I was a little torn because the neurologist is using this drug as an "off label" use. (meaning, the drug is not intended for children.) On the other hand, I found some interesting information from other parents who have used Namenda and had great results with it. If you're interested..read here.
So he started Namenda in addition to the Depakote, iron supplement, carnitine, etc. I can't keep track anymore. Maybe I should use some Namenda to help me remember what all the meds are for. He's been on it for a week and I haven't noticed any differences yet, but he has been a little irritable. I have my fingers crossed that it'll pass.
On to more interesting things... I took the boys to the train museum and managed to snap this photo of Chase with his head poking up in the middle of one of the display sets.
The train museum is typically a fun place to hang out when it's cold and rainy. The boys enjoy the trains and engines, and the mom's run after them trying to corral the kiddies before they run off. Unfortunately, I got held up while walking through a train car and Quinn took off. I thought he would wait for me at the end of the train car. . . . . . I was wrong. Quinn took off and was lost. My work friend Laurie was running around searching one end of the museum while I ran the other direction dragging poor Chase behind me with a death grip on his hand.
I can't tell you the feeling or thoughts that were flashing through my brain. After 10 minutes of screaming "QUINN QUINN!!!!! QUINN!" I cornered an employee and sucked up my pride and admitted I could not find my kid. I had failed as a mother and lost track of my most precious gift....my first born son. The employee was a little old man who was about 90 years old and moved at the speed of a 105 year old man. He notified the front desk and the employees began guarding the doors and looking for Quinn. They asked me what Quinn was wearing and my mind was blank. I think I stuttered, said "I don't know" a few times and then began describing his orange shirt, jeans, and hoodie sweater when I realized that I was looking at him walking toward me with a museum employee. I dropped everything (except for Chase's hand which was purple at this point) and ran up to Quinn hugging him and crying. He was crying too and obviously a bit disoriented.
The museum employee asked me, "Is this your son?"
Was she serious? No, lady! I just enjoy running around your museum screaming at the top of my lungs "Quinn" for the hell of it to see if it'll attract a little boy.
After we returned home Chase got creative with a random pen he found laying around the house. Below is the photo shopped version...
This is with Chase's art work. Can you tell?????