OK, that's a strong title, but it sure seems it. I've been working WAY too much lately. Tonight until almost midnight, because a strange problem just HAD to be pursued.
I'm also working a lot because I feel like I have to cram it all in and learn as much as I can before my sorry rear end is canned, or worse, sidelined, because of my offensive transgressions of daring to question authority. (Hey, they had T-shirts for that, doesn't that mean it's allowed?) Being bored to death is worse than being fired, and since I've made an official complaint, firing is unlikely, but being given stupid useless busywork isn't. Meantime, I do have useful things to do and some of them tickle the perfectionist and detective in me. Odds are the problem I spent hours chasing today will turn out to be nothing, but realities like that don't sway the geek in me that just can't let it go.
Finally what makes me give it up is the sharp shooting pains in my back from sitting in one place too long. So what do I do? Get up and move to a different chair to sit down and blog.
I really really REALLY should have done something useful tonight, like watch Fashion Police. Other than a long talk with Gabriel after dinner, just shooting the breeze, it was probably a total waste. As if I could do any differently?
5/27/2011
Friday, May 27, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
5/26/2011 Shoe hole
This is what I'm talking about. For some reason, I was near Gabriel's feet tonight and noticed his shoes. Holes again/
These are brand-name brand-new shoes I got him after our trip to Death Valley -- they're barely FIVE weeks old!!
They'll never make it to four months. I'm sure the next time I think to check his shoes, they'll be shredded. I'm prepared this time, I have 3 more boxes of shoes for just Gabriel, but sheesh! How is a scatterbrained overloaded Mom to keep up?!
5/26/2011
These are brand-name brand-new shoes I got him after our trip to Death Valley -- they're barely FIVE weeks old!!
They'll never make it to four months. I'm sure the next time I think to check his shoes, they'll be shredded. I'm prepared this time, I have 3 more boxes of shoes for just Gabriel, but sheesh! How is a scatterbrained overloaded Mom to keep up?!
5/26/2011
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
5/25/2011 The Principal's Office
Whew -- today it was me and Dave who went to the Principal's office. This time, for a meeting with the principal, Gabriel's teacher, and the school psychologist who had observed him.
Gabriel's been much better-behaved lately, but the discussion was about broader concerns of his "social pragmatics." He does too many things that are just not within acceptable social norms; too many things that are blindly inconsiderate to others, inappropriate, and that interfere with his work and his classmates' work.
For example, in art class, when the art teacher announced that today was the last day of art, Gabriel blurted out, "GOOD!" He doesn't care if it hurts anyone's feelings or if it's inappropriate.
The psychologist also noted that often he's pushed away from his table, doesn't appear engaged with his class, he's off in his own world, tilting on his chair at times when the rest of the class is paying attention.
And then there's the humming. Behaviors to shut out outside sounds aren't all that unusual, but they're not all that common either. Gabriel hums and sings at times that really aren't appropriate, like when he's in a group that needs to be listening to what's going on.
The psychologist suggested we look into a series of books about "Social Stories," to help make him more aware with normal, sensitive, acceptable social interaction. I was struck, because it reminded me of last summer, when my thoughtful brother-in-law brought the movie "The Bridge to Terabithia" and showed it to all the kids. He did that with Gabriel in mind, thinking that it would demonstrate the notions of empathy and being aware of others' feelings. I suspect the lesson was lost on Gabriel, but it's not lost on me -- if we're to help him become more in touch with other people, and in turn, himself, it will be a gradual, incremental process.
Gabriel's teacher commented that sometimes Gabriel stays behind after class is over, just to talk to her. She also commented that she sees changes in him when there's something going on with me, like if I'm away or when I went back to work. Gabriel is such a not-sensitive kid that it's not easy to detect outside factors that affect him, but I am increasingly aware of how important a close relationship with me is to him. Of course, all kids need their mothers, but not all kids have the same level of emotional resiliency. Gabriel is the most emotionally resilient kid I know -- or is he? Maybe it's more like he concentrates all his emotional needs in a few places, in a few people. He's not the kind of person who makes many friends or who has (or at least expresses) deep need for approval or closeness with other kids or even adults. That's not to say he doesn't have it -- it's just harder to detect, and much harder to see when it's not being satisfied.
Gabriel's emotional makeup is so much like his father's and (paternal) grandfather's that it's almost frightening.
But Gabriel's father's relationship with his mother is nothing like Gabriel's relationship with his mother (that would be me), and I'm determined to continue that. It's just so hard to know when I'm doing something right or wrong.
I know some things I do very right with Gabriel, that he loves -- he really likes the active things we do together, which are also the highlights of my life. But we can't camp and hike and ski together every day; I need to fill in the gaps inbetween. It's not as simple as just spending more time together; often if we're both available he wants to do something else.
Another thing that came up several times in our meeting today, and this is a little weird talking about but maybe I've underestimated it, is that if the school district were still doing this, he'd probably be classified as "gifted." The school psychologist made sure to clarify that there are "high-achieving" kids and so-called "gifted" kids. Most who do very well in school are "high-achieving" -- motivated, commited, invested in their work. That's SO not Gabriel. He doesn't care. And he doesn't do well in school, to the point of frustrating teachers and aides because they sense that he's so capable.
"Gifted" kids are different from "high achievers" -- often they have social issues, they don't necessarily do well on tests (though many do), they show extraordinary talent in specific areas, and often fall flat in other areas, don't always fit in well to regular school, and just think differently. That IS Gabriel, to a tee. If our school still had a "gifted" program, his teacher would recommend him to it.
I'd have objected to a "gifted" program because I assumed that just means more work and competition for grades, plus I find the term "gifted" offensive. But from what we learned today, the former "gifted" program wasn't exactly for "high-achieving" kids, it was for weird geeky kids. I'm OK with "weird." I have to be -- my son sings and hums all the time and frankly can be pretty weird.
Anyway, in the end, we gave our permission for a "full assessment," a complete psychological profile that the school will do in August, partly to screen for autistic-characteristic traits and Asperger's. We talked about the flags Gabriel had as a toddler, but thinking has evolved in the past 6 years. Some kids who show minor signs, as Gabriel did, outgrow those specific signs as toddlers (spinning, lining things up), but then those traits manifest themselves in other ways when they're older. Definitions have changed too; Asperger's is now officially not on the autistic scale, it's its own syndrome. We were told when he was 4 that Gabriel most definitely was not an Asperger's kid (speech delay is not characteristic of Asperger's), but apparently that's been re-thought too.
This is exhausting. At least now I have a little more vindication of my frustration and struggle when he was the world's toughest toddler -- it's NOT ME! He really is different! But while I could do without struggle and being on first-name basis with the principal, I deeply, deeply love different. And weird.
5/25/2011
Gabriel's been much better-behaved lately, but the discussion was about broader concerns of his "social pragmatics." He does too many things that are just not within acceptable social norms; too many things that are blindly inconsiderate to others, inappropriate, and that interfere with his work and his classmates' work.
For example, in art class, when the art teacher announced that today was the last day of art, Gabriel blurted out, "GOOD!" He doesn't care if it hurts anyone's feelings or if it's inappropriate.
The psychologist also noted that often he's pushed away from his table, doesn't appear engaged with his class, he's off in his own world, tilting on his chair at times when the rest of the class is paying attention.
And then there's the humming. Behaviors to shut out outside sounds aren't all that unusual, but they're not all that common either. Gabriel hums and sings at times that really aren't appropriate, like when he's in a group that needs to be listening to what's going on.
The psychologist suggested we look into a series of books about "Social Stories," to help make him more aware with normal, sensitive, acceptable social interaction. I was struck, because it reminded me of last summer, when my thoughtful brother-in-law brought the movie "The Bridge to Terabithia" and showed it to all the kids. He did that with Gabriel in mind, thinking that it would demonstrate the notions of empathy and being aware of others' feelings. I suspect the lesson was lost on Gabriel, but it's not lost on me -- if we're to help him become more in touch with other people, and in turn, himself, it will be a gradual, incremental process.
Gabriel's teacher commented that sometimes Gabriel stays behind after class is over, just to talk to her. She also commented that she sees changes in him when there's something going on with me, like if I'm away or when I went back to work. Gabriel is such a not-sensitive kid that it's not easy to detect outside factors that affect him, but I am increasingly aware of how important a close relationship with me is to him. Of course, all kids need their mothers, but not all kids have the same level of emotional resiliency. Gabriel is the most emotionally resilient kid I know -- or is he? Maybe it's more like he concentrates all his emotional needs in a few places, in a few people. He's not the kind of person who makes many friends or who has (or at least expresses) deep need for approval or closeness with other kids or even adults. That's not to say he doesn't have it -- it's just harder to detect, and much harder to see when it's not being satisfied.
Gabriel's emotional makeup is so much like his father's and (paternal) grandfather's that it's almost frightening.
But Gabriel's father's relationship with his mother is nothing like Gabriel's relationship with his mother (that would be me), and I'm determined to continue that. It's just so hard to know when I'm doing something right or wrong.
I know some things I do very right with Gabriel, that he loves -- he really likes the active things we do together, which are also the highlights of my life. But we can't camp and hike and ski together every day; I need to fill in the gaps inbetween. It's not as simple as just spending more time together; often if we're both available he wants to do something else.
Another thing that came up several times in our meeting today, and this is a little weird talking about but maybe I've underestimated it, is that if the school district were still doing this, he'd probably be classified as "gifted." The school psychologist made sure to clarify that there are "high-achieving" kids and so-called "gifted" kids. Most who do very well in school are "high-achieving" -- motivated, commited, invested in their work. That's SO not Gabriel. He doesn't care. And he doesn't do well in school, to the point of frustrating teachers and aides because they sense that he's so capable.
"Gifted" kids are different from "high achievers" -- often they have social issues, they don't necessarily do well on tests (though many do), they show extraordinary talent in specific areas, and often fall flat in other areas, don't always fit in well to regular school, and just think differently. That IS Gabriel, to a tee. If our school still had a "gifted" program, his teacher would recommend him to it.
I'd have objected to a "gifted" program because I assumed that just means more work and competition for grades, plus I find the term "gifted" offensive. But from what we learned today, the former "gifted" program wasn't exactly for "high-achieving" kids, it was for weird geeky kids. I'm OK with "weird." I have to be -- my son sings and hums all the time and frankly can be pretty weird.
Anyway, in the end, we gave our permission for a "full assessment," a complete psychological profile that the school will do in August, partly to screen for autistic-characteristic traits and Asperger's. We talked about the flags Gabriel had as a toddler, but thinking has evolved in the past 6 years. Some kids who show minor signs, as Gabriel did, outgrow those specific signs as toddlers (spinning, lining things up), but then those traits manifest themselves in other ways when they're older. Definitions have changed too; Asperger's is now officially not on the autistic scale, it's its own syndrome. We were told when he was 4 that Gabriel most definitely was not an Asperger's kid (speech delay is not characteristic of Asperger's), but apparently that's been re-thought too.
This is exhausting. At least now I have a little more vindication of my frustration and struggle when he was the world's toughest toddler -- it's NOT ME! He really is different! But while I could do without struggle and being on first-name basis with the principal, I deeply, deeply love different. And weird.
5/25/2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
5/24/2011 More leaks
SO frustrating...Katrina's on a new roll: 6 straight days with at least one, usually two, changes of clothes. She's going to CDC with her brothers in 5 weeks, this HAS to stop!! They're not a preschool, there are no cubbies with boxes of extra clothes for those "oops" times for potty-training toddlers -- they're an after-school care place for school-age kids who are mature enough to handle their own toileting. This is getting downright frightening.
Meantime, tonight Katrina took it upon herself to write her own "calendar," including days of the week, to show when "boys don't get dessert." She's very used to the calendar coming out and getting marked for days her brothers have lost dessert for some or other offense (mostly one brother, who's not getting any treats until well into June). She also wrote down numerous years and "equations" that show how to calculate the years -- I think a preschool exercise gone awry -- but she clearly grasps the concept of years being identified by numbers and knows what this year is and when everyone was born (well, except me, since that was in a different millenium).
Her academic efforts say she's ready for first grade, never mind kindergarten, but her stinky leaky wet pee-soaked bottom says she needs to go back to the potty-training baby room at preschool. I don't need this!!
5/24/2011
Meantime, tonight Katrina took it upon herself to write her own "calendar," including days of the week, to show when "boys don't get dessert." She's very used to the calendar coming out and getting marked for days her brothers have lost dessert for some or other offense (mostly one brother, who's not getting any treats until well into June). She also wrote down numerous years and "equations" that show how to calculate the years -- I think a preschool exercise gone awry -- but she clearly grasps the concept of years being identified by numbers and knows what this year is and when everyone was born (well, except me, since that was in a different millenium).
Her academic efforts say she's ready for first grade, never mind kindergarten, but her stinky leaky wet pee-soaked bottom says she needs to go back to the potty-training baby room at preschool. I don't need this!!
5/24/2011
Monday, May 23, 2011
5/23/2011 Gardening Day
My hands are sore!! I need an electric pruner -- do those exist? I attempted to bring our landscaping under control on Sundat, but all that snip-snip has made my thumb muscles exhausted and worn out my already-fragile wrist from repetitive stress syndrome. And I only whacked back a tiny portion of our fast-overgrowing yard!
Seeing how some plants grow out of control, while other pretty little ones are so well-behaved, makes me want to revamp our entire garden. Some plants just don't belong here; but many spots need more of the well-behaved ones.
In any case, it was great fun to garden with Julian, who picked up all my scraps and smooshed them into the rapidly-filling yard-waste can. He really was a help! I cut a LOT and he totally took care of it. That's what sons are FOR.
And we need some of Julian's favorite -- sticky monkey flower!
5/23/2011
Seeing how some plants grow out of control, while other pretty little ones are so well-behaved, makes me want to revamp our entire garden. Some plants just don't belong here; but many spots need more of the well-behaved ones.
In any case, it was great fun to garden with Julian, who picked up all my scraps and smooshed them into the rapidly-filling yard-waste can. He really was a help! I cut a LOT and he totally took care of it. That's what sons are FOR.
And we need some of Julian's favorite -- sticky monkey flower!
5/23/2011
Sunday, May 22, 2011
5/22/2011 Paperwork
Too busy filling out forms to blog tonight. Summer means a lot of paperwork!!
5/22/2011
5/22/2011
Saturday, May 21, 2011
WWII plane ID
One of the fun things about going to the Collings Foundation tour, aside from flying on vintage military aircraft, is talking with the enthusiastic volunteers, who are all well-versed in WWII aviation history, both Axis and Allied.
I thought there was a good chance they could identify aircraft in some of my grandfather's pictures, and brought some of the tiny photos with me last year. This year, I had found one more photo and brought it with me.
My grandfather is the shorter man on the right, standing in front of what's left of an airplane. This one was bombed on the ground obviously; it didn't fly home like this. Judging by how the wheels are dug in, it had been here for a while.
Though there's not much plane left to identify, these aficionados were able to say this plane was most likely German because of the double wheels and the square-shaped fuselage.
A few other photos with intact airplanes had just enough detail to I.D. them as most likely German. In some, the swastika was the big giveaway.
(My grandfather is on the far right.)
These pictures are really darned small, about 2" x 2.5".
So this leaves the next mystery: where and when was my grandfather when he was posing with captured and destroyed German aircraft?
I thought there was a good chance they could identify aircraft in some of my grandfather's pictures, and brought some of the tiny photos with me last year. This year, I had found one more photo and brought it with me.
My grandfather is the shorter man on the right, standing in front of what's left of an airplane. This one was bombed on the ground obviously; it didn't fly home like this. Judging by how the wheels are dug in, it had been here for a while.
Though there's not much plane left to identify, these aficionados were able to say this plane was most likely German because of the double wheels and the square-shaped fuselage.
A few other photos with intact airplanes had just enough detail to I.D. them as most likely German. In some, the swastika was the big giveaway.
(My grandfather is on the far right.)
These pictures are really darned small, about 2" x 2.5".
So this leaves the next mystery: where and when was my grandfather when he was posing with captured and destroyed German aircraft?
5/21/2011 B-24 flight
I flew on another WWII bomber plane today! The Collings Foundation is here for a week on their annual Wings of Freedom tour. The past two years, I've flown on their restored B-17. This year, it was time to try the B-24 Liberator.
This plane is pretty funky-looking. It's larger than the B-17, has a broader wingspan, and a big fat tall belly. This particular B-24 Liberator, named Witchcraft, is painted a dark color, making it look like something of an ominous apparition in the air.
Plus the nifty tail fins.
I "volunteered" to be up front on the flight deck for takeoff, which means sitting right behind the pilots. My seat was a tiny swivel chair, as opposed to a piece of plywood on the ground. But that meant I got one of the headsets and could hear the pilots talking to each other and to the control tower during takeoff.
I was amused that the few questions or confusions the pilots had ("is that on button number one or two?") had to do with this modern navigation system installed on the plane.
I was less amused by their discussion of what to do in case they had to abort after takeoff, but I felt better hearing that this runway is so long that it wouldn't be a problem. Yikes!
We wouldn't be needing this today.
Takeoff was by far the smoothest takeoff I've ever experienced on a plane. In fact, I didn't even know we were airborne, so I stopped the video early thinking I'd re-start when we were closer to taking off. Then I looked out the window and realized we were flying!
Like with the B-17, this is a military aircraft and a vintage one at that. Everything is out to see, there are sharp edges and things to bang your head on all over the place, many places open to the outside, and lots of doors and hatches that are designed for quick-release.
And getting from point A to point B involves some hands-and-knees action. I wasted no time going to the nose of the plane, which involves climbing down and crawling through the belly of the plane.
The nose was incredible. It's really small, but your head is surrounded by plexiglass and you can see on all sides, below and above tou. The noise, the wind rushing around, and the panoramic view make it almost feel like you're not in a plane at all -- just out there.
There's also a plexiglass view at the bottom part of the nose.
This is what I mean by "nose" -- the top area that's surrounded by plexiglass, where a gunner would sit; but at the bottom of the nose there's more plexiglass to see down (in an upside-down teardrop shape) -- that's the view in the previous photo.
There's also a curious little portal looking straight down.
It's remarkable looking out the window and seeing these old props keeping us in the air.
Getting to the back of the plane meant walking a catwalk to cross the bomb bay. This catwalk is wider and quite roomy compared to the B-17, but it's much longer, about 20 feet. The bomb bay doors below are meant for wind protection and quick-release -- not to hold someone who stumbles. I tried to imagine walking across the catwalk with the bomb bay doors open -- that'd be a trip.
This is what this same catwalk looks like with the bomb bay doors open (on the ground) -- but they used to fly it this way too. What else are you going to do when it's time to blow away German munitions factories?
The side windows were completely open, making it easy to take shots at imaginary Japanese Zeros. I was surprised how hard it was to move the gun around in the wind.
This small side window had plexiglass, so was easier to look out without being blown around. You could see and track the shadow of the plane from there.
(Shadow at bottom center.)
The tail was also remarkable. These spots are intended for a person of apparently about my size to slide their legs down into a pretty small space and sit on a small piece of wood (perhaps added by the Collings Foundation restorers, as were the "seatbelts") and shoot at the enemy. Another panoramic view, with the interesting sensation of following the plane.
When it came time to land, everyone took the nearest spot, but there was one person left over (musical chairs!). Being among the more agile (and younger and smaller) of passengers, I volunteered to scoot quickly to the front of the plane, and zoomed around the ball turret and across the bomb bay catwalk and up to the flight deck -- only to find that it already had 3 people.
The flight engineer motioned for me to sit below the flight deck, in the belly part of the plane that you have to crawl through to get to the nose.
Uh, really? Is this allowed? With the landing gear down, the space around the nose wheel was completely open, and the wind was REALLY strong. I could barely breathe in the wind. The flight engineer offered to move me up to the flight deck where it was more protected, even if there were 3 guys there already. No way, I wasn't missing this, breathing or not!
This was a really amazing, terrifying and thrilling experience all at the same time. It was SO loud and windy. Worse, or better, I could see all around the wheel, so I could see the ground getting closer and closer. I couldn't take my eyes off the runway as we approached it, and had the closest sensation possible to what it must be like just before a crash. The wind got much stronger just before touching down, and seeing the runway rush up at us from my spot about 3 feet off the ground was pretty shocking. Despite the intensity of hearing, feeling and seeing the landing so up close, the landing was really really smooth.
The landing from my stowaway vantage point behind the nose wheel was really exciting and amazing and I'm so happy I got to experience that!
Where I sat for the landing (though facing away). The red flag on my left points down to the nose wheel, and it's all open around it.
The landing. The video doesn't show much, but the white spots are where everything is open. I'm still not sure what was freakier: the wind or being able to see the ground rushing up (which unfortunately the video doesn't show). Touchdown is right at the end of this, but you really can't tell.
Taxiing after landing, a not-great panorama, but here's the view of where I was.
I took the kids to walk the planes the next day. Gabriel demonstrates about where I sat for the landing, just behind him.
In front of the Liberator. I actually think this one was more fun to fly in than the B-17, though I wouldn't trade my B-17 experiences for anything. I have great respect for the B-17's hardy reputation, and I'm always about function over form.
From everything I've read about the B-24, including the best-seller "Unbroken" which I'm halfway through, it wasn't the airmens' favorite because it wasn't as robust as the B-17. The B-24 flew faster and smoother and carried a heavier payload, but the B-17s were known for getting guys home on just one engine or practically blown apart and for doing better in water landings. The B-24 had a very different feel to it than the rougher, smaller B-17, but I take the reports to heart that if you really were under fire from anti-aircraft flak or enemy fighters, or were about to make a crash water landing, you really were better off in the B-17.
Regardless of which WWII-era vintage aircraft you're riding in, it's unimaginable that guys would be up in these planes for hours at a time, with oxygen masks, being shot at. My comfy half-hour on the plane gives barely a teensy inkling of what that must have been like, and makes what I read all just a little bit imaginable.
A joy ride in history!
5/21/2011
This plane is pretty funky-looking. It's larger than the B-17, has a broader wingspan, and a big fat tall belly. This particular B-24 Liberator, named Witchcraft, is painted a dark color, making it look like something of an ominous apparition in the air.
Plus the nifty tail fins.
I "volunteered" to be up front on the flight deck for takeoff, which means sitting right behind the pilots. My seat was a tiny swivel chair, as opposed to a piece of plywood on the ground. But that meant I got one of the headsets and could hear the pilots talking to each other and to the control tower during takeoff.
I was amused that the few questions or confusions the pilots had ("is that on button number one or two?") had to do with this modern navigation system installed on the plane.
I was less amused by their discussion of what to do in case they had to abort after takeoff, but I felt better hearing that this runway is so long that it wouldn't be a problem. Yikes!
We wouldn't be needing this today.
Takeoff was by far the smoothest takeoff I've ever experienced on a plane. In fact, I didn't even know we were airborne, so I stopped the video early thinking I'd re-start when we were closer to taking off. Then I looked out the window and realized we were flying!
Like with the B-17, this is a military aircraft and a vintage one at that. Everything is out to see, there are sharp edges and things to bang your head on all over the place, many places open to the outside, and lots of doors and hatches that are designed for quick-release.
And getting from point A to point B involves some hands-and-knees action. I wasted no time going to the nose of the plane, which involves climbing down and crawling through the belly of the plane.
The nose was incredible. It's really small, but your head is surrounded by plexiglass and you can see on all sides, below and above tou. The noise, the wind rushing around, and the panoramic view make it almost feel like you're not in a plane at all -- just out there.
There's also a plexiglass view at the bottom part of the nose.
This is what I mean by "nose" -- the top area that's surrounded by plexiglass, where a gunner would sit; but at the bottom of the nose there's more plexiglass to see down (in an upside-down teardrop shape) -- that's the view in the previous photo.
There's also a curious little portal looking straight down.
It's remarkable looking out the window and seeing these old props keeping us in the air.
Getting to the back of the plane meant walking a catwalk to cross the bomb bay. This catwalk is wider and quite roomy compared to the B-17, but it's much longer, about 20 feet. The bomb bay doors below are meant for wind protection and quick-release -- not to hold someone who stumbles. I tried to imagine walking across the catwalk with the bomb bay doors open -- that'd be a trip.
This is what this same catwalk looks like with the bomb bay doors open (on the ground) -- but they used to fly it this way too. What else are you going to do when it's time to blow away German munitions factories?
The side windows were completely open, making it easy to take shots at imaginary Japanese Zeros. I was surprised how hard it was to move the gun around in the wind.
This small side window had plexiglass, so was easier to look out without being blown around. You could see and track the shadow of the plane from there.
(Shadow at bottom center.)
The tail was also remarkable. These spots are intended for a person of apparently about my size to slide their legs down into a pretty small space and sit on a small piece of wood (perhaps added by the Collings Foundation restorers, as were the "seatbelts") and shoot at the enemy. Another panoramic view, with the interesting sensation of following the plane.
When it came time to land, everyone took the nearest spot, but there was one person left over (musical chairs!). Being among the more agile (and younger and smaller) of passengers, I volunteered to scoot quickly to the front of the plane, and zoomed around the ball turret and across the bomb bay catwalk and up to the flight deck -- only to find that it already had 3 people.
The flight engineer motioned for me to sit below the flight deck, in the belly part of the plane that you have to crawl through to get to the nose.
Uh, really? Is this allowed? With the landing gear down, the space around the nose wheel was completely open, and the wind was REALLY strong. I could barely breathe in the wind. The flight engineer offered to move me up to the flight deck where it was more protected, even if there were 3 guys there already. No way, I wasn't missing this, breathing or not!
This was a really amazing, terrifying and thrilling experience all at the same time. It was SO loud and windy. Worse, or better, I could see all around the wheel, so I could see the ground getting closer and closer. I couldn't take my eyes off the runway as we approached it, and had the closest sensation possible to what it must be like just before a crash. The wind got much stronger just before touching down, and seeing the runway rush up at us from my spot about 3 feet off the ground was pretty shocking. Despite the intensity of hearing, feeling and seeing the landing so up close, the landing was really really smooth.
The landing from my stowaway vantage point behind the nose wheel was really exciting and amazing and I'm so happy I got to experience that!
Where I sat for the landing (though facing away). The red flag on my left points down to the nose wheel, and it's all open around it.
The landing. The video doesn't show much, but the white spots are where everything is open. I'm still not sure what was freakier: the wind or being able to see the ground rushing up (which unfortunately the video doesn't show). Touchdown is right at the end of this, but you really can't tell.
Taxiing after landing, a not-great panorama, but here's the view of where I was.
I took the kids to walk the planes the next day. Gabriel demonstrates about where I sat for the landing, just behind him.
In front of the Liberator. I actually think this one was more fun to fly in than the B-17, though I wouldn't trade my B-17 experiences for anything. I have great respect for the B-17's hardy reputation, and I'm always about function over form.
From everything I've read about the B-24, including the best-seller "Unbroken" which I'm halfway through, it wasn't the airmens' favorite because it wasn't as robust as the B-17. The B-24 flew faster and smoother and carried a heavier payload, but the B-17s were known for getting guys home on just one engine or practically blown apart and for doing better in water landings. The B-24 had a very different feel to it than the rougher, smaller B-17, but I take the reports to heart that if you really were under fire from anti-aircraft flak or enemy fighters, or were about to make a crash water landing, you really were better off in the B-17.
Regardless of which WWII-era vintage aircraft you're riding in, it's unimaginable that guys would be up in these planes for hours at a time, with oxygen masks, being shot at. My comfy half-hour on the plane gives barely a teensy inkling of what that must have been like, and makes what I read all just a little bit imaginable.
A joy ride in history!
5/21/2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
5/19/2011 Sleepy Boy
Once again, Dave and I were both called at work because one of our children was sent to the principal's office. This time, it was because Gabriel fell asleep in class after a field trip. He slept soundly in the office until Dave was able to pick him up, just after school was dismissed, well over an hour after we were called.
Can I just say: ARRRRGGGHGHGHHHH!!!!
Can we possibly make it through a single week without getting called by the school? What will it take to get off their speed-dial?! This is out of control!!!!
Gabriel wasn't sick, he was acting fine this morning, and acted fine when Dave picked him up. For the record, they had no screen time last night, and while lights were off later than usual (as is usual on soccer nights), lights were still off by 8:45. I had to drag Gabriel out of bed this morning at 7:15am, which if my math is correct, adds up to over 10 hours of sleep. The boys went to sleep unusually calmly last night and didn't wake each other up this morning.
Really, this isn't our fault. It can't be. Otherwise, we're screwed, and so is the school. We do all the right things. We follow the modern magazine advice. We're positive yet firm. We balance time together with fostering independence. But whoever's writing the magazine articles isn't having their kids sent to the office pretty much every week for one reason or another. I'm increasingly convinced it's just biology, it's just the kids themselves.
Tonight when Julian was at Kung Fu, I was trying to wrap up a comment on my work laptop before making dinner, and Dave was trying to catch up work after missing the afternoon to pick up Gabriel and the kids, and we were distracted by the most delightful sound. Katrina in the dining room was singing and chatting happily to herself about the "magic castle" she was coloring (some Barbie coloring book and colored pens with glitter), and alternating between random singing and talking in a sing-song voice about the little magical world she'd created.
I once thought this little-girl stuff would be barfsville for me, but it was so powerfully, totally adorable, cute and unequivocably compelling. Who can work when our little girl is being SO sweet as just...a little girl? Dave also can't resist her. What a stunning contrast to her rude, defiant, smart-mouthed obnoxious brothers -- who I adore totally but who really need a mouth-washing-out with soap.
After they wake up from class that is.
5/19/2011
Can I just say: ARRRRGGGHGHGHHHH!!!!
Can we possibly make it through a single week without getting called by the school? What will it take to get off their speed-dial?! This is out of control!!!!
Gabriel wasn't sick, he was acting fine this morning, and acted fine when Dave picked him up. For the record, they had no screen time last night, and while lights were off later than usual (as is usual on soccer nights), lights were still off by 8:45. I had to drag Gabriel out of bed this morning at 7:15am, which if my math is correct, adds up to over 10 hours of sleep. The boys went to sleep unusually calmly last night and didn't wake each other up this morning.
Really, this isn't our fault. It can't be. Otherwise, we're screwed, and so is the school. We do all the right things. We follow the modern magazine advice. We're positive yet firm. We balance time together with fostering independence. But whoever's writing the magazine articles isn't having their kids sent to the office pretty much every week for one reason or another. I'm increasingly convinced it's just biology, it's just the kids themselves.
Tonight when Julian was at Kung Fu, I was trying to wrap up a comment on my work laptop before making dinner, and Dave was trying to catch up work after missing the afternoon to pick up Gabriel and the kids, and we were distracted by the most delightful sound. Katrina in the dining room was singing and chatting happily to herself about the "magic castle" she was coloring (some Barbie coloring book and colored pens with glitter), and alternating between random singing and talking in a sing-song voice about the little magical world she'd created.
I once thought this little-girl stuff would be barfsville for me, but it was so powerfully, totally adorable, cute and unequivocably compelling. Who can work when our little girl is being SO sweet as just...a little girl? Dave also can't resist her. What a stunning contrast to her rude, defiant, smart-mouthed obnoxious brothers -- who I adore totally but who really need a mouth-washing-out with soap.
After they wake up from class that is.
5/19/2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
5/18/2011 Pre-K Girl
Off to Coffee tonight!
But first -- Katrina's "official" pre-K graduation photo. The photographers take them unless you request they don't, then they do everything they can to get you to buy them on a designated show-and-pay day: robo-calls, sending home flyers, putting a reminder sticker on the child's clothes the day before.
It works of course. What mom could resist this beautiful little face? I parted with $61 in a flash.
5/18/2011
But first -- Katrina's "official" pre-K graduation photo. The photographers take them unless you request they don't, then they do everything they can to get you to buy them on a designated show-and-pay day: robo-calls, sending home flyers, putting a reminder sticker on the child's clothes the day before.
It works of course. What mom could resist this beautiful little face? I parted with $61 in a flash.
5/18/2011
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
5/17/2011 Home again
Surreal. Walking into my house, back into my life, this afternoon, it was like it all never happened, or happened in a dream. In dreams, it all seems so real at the time, then the life you were just living in vanishes in the moment you woke up. That's sort of how it felt walking back into my house today.
Did I really fly back East, into a green rainy world, and go to the house of my childhood, and then be surrounded by family and friends to say goodbye to my father? Did we really visit his gravesite, and really feel ashes and rocks slip between our fingers as we scattered his remains -- him -- in the fields he loved so much? As I stepped into my own bedroom and started thinking about all the laundry I had to do, it seemed so far away, even though this very morning I was there.
The service we had for my Dad was really wonderful. My sister, brother and myself each spoke, then we opened it up for other friends and family to speak as well. My 6yo niece read an Irish blessing, and my 9yo nephew sang a song accompanied by his father on the guitar. This for me was really the highlight, if there can be such a thing at a memorial service. My Dad himself would have been moved to tears seeing his grandson sing like that, so confident, so heartfelt.
"All the diamonds in this world," by Bruce Cocburn.
After the memorial at the funeral home, we had a reception the house in Stephentown that was my father's beloved home for over 40 years. Somehow as kids we named it La Maison Verte -- the green house -- even though whatever's not white has pretty much always been red. In all its rusticness, it was a perfect place to hold his reception.
I spent most of the reception getting to know Lea, a cousin I knew of but had never met. My father had two older half-sisters, and Lea is one of those sister's daughters. We have one grandmother in common, and our grandmother's second husband was my grandfather and Lea's step-grandfather, so she remembers him well . I was thrilled to find a living memory of my grandfather (she was born in 1943 and is more my mother's generation than mine). Lea has done some research on our family history on ancestry.com, and she was fascinated to hear what little bits of family history I've figured from old photos, so we will most certainly be following up together.
(left to right: my brother Ronan, me, our cousin Veralea, my sister Stephanie)
My sister and brother and I shared an incredible odyssey together the past 5 years or so, supporting each other in different roles of managing our father's life. It is a real testament to my father -- and mother -- how we embraced our responsibility together and cooperatively in the formidable job that is caring for someone with dementia. It was so important and comforting to me to be with these two wonderful people during this time.
The one thing that's missing in all this grieving is the shock factor -- that doesn't happen after years of Alzheimer's. To my surprise, the sense of loss and sadness is no less. Though it might sound corny, it really is true that now I really can enjoy my father's memory now that I'm not burdened with guilt at "remembering" someone who's still alive. He's more real and present to me now than he has been in years.
And, as my laundry and my father's grandchildren remind me, life goes on.
5/17/2011
Did I really fly back East, into a green rainy world, and go to the house of my childhood, and then be surrounded by family and friends to say goodbye to my father? Did we really visit his gravesite, and really feel ashes and rocks slip between our fingers as we scattered his remains -- him -- in the fields he loved so much? As I stepped into my own bedroom and started thinking about all the laundry I had to do, it seemed so far away, even though this very morning I was there.
The service we had for my Dad was really wonderful. My sister, brother and myself each spoke, then we opened it up for other friends and family to speak as well. My 6yo niece read an Irish blessing, and my 9yo nephew sang a song accompanied by his father on the guitar. This for me was really the highlight, if there can be such a thing at a memorial service. My Dad himself would have been moved to tears seeing his grandson sing like that, so confident, so heartfelt.
"All the diamonds in this world," by Bruce Cocburn.
After the memorial at the funeral home, we had a reception the house in Stephentown that was my father's beloved home for over 40 years. Somehow as kids we named it La Maison Verte -- the green house -- even though whatever's not white has pretty much always been red. In all its rusticness, it was a perfect place to hold his reception.
I spent most of the reception getting to know Lea, a cousin I knew of but had never met. My father had two older half-sisters, and Lea is one of those sister's daughters. We have one grandmother in common, and our grandmother's second husband was my grandfather and Lea's step-grandfather, so she remembers him well . I was thrilled to find a living memory of my grandfather (she was born in 1943 and is more my mother's generation than mine). Lea has done some research on our family history on ancestry.com, and she was fascinated to hear what little bits of family history I've figured from old photos, so we will most certainly be following up together.
(left to right: my brother Ronan, me, our cousin Veralea, my sister Stephanie)
My sister and brother and I shared an incredible odyssey together the past 5 years or so, supporting each other in different roles of managing our father's life. It is a real testament to my father -- and mother -- how we embraced our responsibility together and cooperatively in the formidable job that is caring for someone with dementia. It was so important and comforting to me to be with these two wonderful people during this time.
The one thing that's missing in all this grieving is the shock factor -- that doesn't happen after years of Alzheimer's. To my surprise, the sense of loss and sadness is no less. Though it might sound corny, it really is true that now I really can enjoy my father's memory now that I'm not burdened with guilt at "remembering" someone who's still alive. He's more real and present to me now than he has been in years.
And, as my laundry and my father's grandchildren remind me, life goes on.
5/17/2011
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
5/11/11 1st-grade performance
I left work today to attend Julian's spring performance at school.
When Gabriel was in first grade, the whole first grade did songs. Each class would sing a few songs, then the whole first grade did one together. This year, they split up the performances into one or two classes together at various times throughout the day. This made seating and parking and actually seeing your kid much easier.
This year, the first grade did some mini-musical plays instead of songs. Some kids played xylophones, while others had speaking parts. Julian was one of three "soldiers" in a story about "Stone Soup," in which 3 hungry soldiers arrive in town, and the townspeople try to save their food by pretending to make soup with stones. I couldn't quite follow the story actually, though it sounds familiar.
Julian's role as soldier meant a few things. One, it meant that he finished all his schoolwork yesterday on threat of being left out of the play altogether. Two, it meant that he wore a "costume" -- a helmet -- and a mike headset. Kids are terrible with mike headsets, and constantly had their hands at their mouths holding the mikes.
First, a soundcheck.
Julian as a soldier waiting to say his (mostly unintelligible) lines.
Toward the end, Julian joined the xylophone group.
Of course, the photo-op at the end. Notice how Julian, back row far right, is reaching out to touch a classmate's head. He can't quit pestering other kids for even 10 seconds.
He's friends with these kids, but the one in the red shirt is such a good friend that Julian has mostly alienated him and pushed him away. In fact, this happy smiling little boy is one of the reasons Julian went to the principal's office last week, because the poor kid was tired of Julian's constant physical play with him. (I'm not sure who the dark-skinned one in the middle is.) I passed the time before the show chatting with the kid's mother, mostly apologizing.
This was all very sweet and fun to see, at least for those of us whose kids had some speaking to do. I wondered if the parents of the xylophone kids felt gypped.
I brought Julian home with me after school, where I continued to work and he continued to putz around not doing his homework.
I really shouldn't even be working with all I have to do to prepare to leave for NY tomorrow, but with my impending absence I feel more pressure to get things completed.
It's also hard mentally to wrap my head around scanning photos of my Dad for his service coming up next weekend -- it's what I need to do, but it's a surprising emotional investment. I'm now past the initial shock of my father's passing, but it seems my coping mechanism has been to set it all aside. It's not working. When it does re-enter my mind, or rather when I re-enter that part of my mind, the pain and loss is as fresh as ever, and I burst into tears yet again. I guess this is what it's like losing a close family member, even one who was lost in many ways long ago.
A close friend wisely observed that I don't do well with finality. Never moreso has that been more clear than now, when for the first time in my life, I have to deal with the finality of the loss of someone close. I think this will be easier for me when I'm in my father's home and with my brother and sister this weekend.
5/11/11
When Gabriel was in first grade, the whole first grade did songs. Each class would sing a few songs, then the whole first grade did one together. This year, they split up the performances into one or two classes together at various times throughout the day. This made seating and parking and actually seeing your kid much easier.
This year, the first grade did some mini-musical plays instead of songs. Some kids played xylophones, while others had speaking parts. Julian was one of three "soldiers" in a story about "Stone Soup," in which 3 hungry soldiers arrive in town, and the townspeople try to save their food by pretending to make soup with stones. I couldn't quite follow the story actually, though it sounds familiar.
Julian's role as soldier meant a few things. One, it meant that he finished all his schoolwork yesterday on threat of being left out of the play altogether. Two, it meant that he wore a "costume" -- a helmet -- and a mike headset. Kids are terrible with mike headsets, and constantly had their hands at their mouths holding the mikes.
First, a soundcheck.
Julian as a soldier waiting to say his (mostly unintelligible) lines.
Toward the end, Julian joined the xylophone group.
Of course, the photo-op at the end. Notice how Julian, back row far right, is reaching out to touch a classmate's head. He can't quit pestering other kids for even 10 seconds.
He's friends with these kids, but the one in the red shirt is such a good friend that Julian has mostly alienated him and pushed him away. In fact, this happy smiling little boy is one of the reasons Julian went to the principal's office last week, because the poor kid was tired of Julian's constant physical play with him. (I'm not sure who the dark-skinned one in the middle is.) I passed the time before the show chatting with the kid's mother, mostly apologizing.
This was all very sweet and fun to see, at least for those of us whose kids had some speaking to do. I wondered if the parents of the xylophone kids felt gypped.
I brought Julian home with me after school, where I continued to work and he continued to putz around not doing his homework.
I really shouldn't even be working with all I have to do to prepare to leave for NY tomorrow, but with my impending absence I feel more pressure to get things completed.
It's also hard mentally to wrap my head around scanning photos of my Dad for his service coming up next weekend -- it's what I need to do, but it's a surprising emotional investment. I'm now past the initial shock of my father's passing, but it seems my coping mechanism has been to set it all aside. It's not working. When it does re-enter my mind, or rather when I re-enter that part of my mind, the pain and loss is as fresh as ever, and I burst into tears yet again. I guess this is what it's like losing a close family member, even one who was lost in many ways long ago.
A close friend wisely observed that I don't do well with finality. Never moreso has that been more clear than now, when for the first time in my life, I have to deal with the finality of the loss of someone close. I think this will be easier for me when I'm in my father's home and with my brother and sister this weekend.
5/11/11
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
5/10/2011 Laura and Gabriel
I am SOO behind in blogging....I give up trying to "catch up." We just can't keep up with all the events, especially not with wonderful in-laws visiting until last night, and all the trouble our dear boys are giving us right now. Not to mention keeping up with a challenging work situation, and arranging my trip to NY and my father's service.
Uncle Ryan was able to take a few photos while he was here, fortunately. This one really strikes me. Look how grown-up my son looks, and how beautiful my sister-in-law looks.
The same two together almost 9 years ago.
Laura's barely changed (stroke and astounding recovery notwithstanding), but Gabriel really has.
This picture will look very interesting in about 3 years when Gabriel hits puberty!
5/10/2011
Uncle Ryan was able to take a few photos while he was here, fortunately. This one really strikes me. Look how grown-up my son looks, and how beautiful my sister-in-law looks.
The same two together almost 9 years ago.
Laura's barely changed (stroke and astounding recovery notwithstanding), but Gabriel really has.
This picture will look very interesting in about 3 years when Gabriel hits puberty!
5/10/2011
Sunday, May 08, 2011
5/8/2011 Fun weekend turnaround
We had such a nice relaxed (mostly) day with Aunt Laura and uncle Ryan, with lots of outdoor play. I got them these "dodge discs" toy that shoot light foam disks rapid-fire from a hand-mounted "gun" that can also be used as a deflector shield.
Katrina played too, but she's been a little out of it today with a cough, and enjoyed hanging with Aunt Laura.
Being so busy and tired this weekend, I did the few things I really had to do (flight reservations to NY next week), but that didn't include going through the boys' knapsacks and seeing what they had in store for us. Dave did it when he got home from being away for the weekend, and it was a nightmare.
Both boys had classwork they needed to finish at home. Gabriel's wasn't clear what it was supposed to be from, but he'd never mentioned it. Julian, we learned, had been sent to the principal's office again on Friday -- two days after getting sent twice -- for throwing other kids' lunchboxes around.
But alone with the Laura and Ryan and the kids -- those are the best times for everyone. I'm almost glad I didn't know about all that, or I'd have spent the whole weekend struggling to get them to finish their work, and looking for ways of punishing Julian for the principal office visit again. It just has to stop and there seems no getting through to them.
Didn't schools used to have "detention," where kids sit after school and finish classwork or homework, or do extra work if they were being punished for bad behavior? Something tells me that there's not much need for a detention room in Cupertino. Well, we certainly need one here.
Well, it was a fun weekend until discovering how un-fun it could have been if I'd had a chance to check their knapsacks on Friday!
5/8/2011
Katrina played too, but she's been a little out of it today with a cough, and enjoyed hanging with Aunt Laura.
Being so busy and tired this weekend, I did the few things I really had to do (flight reservations to NY next week), but that didn't include going through the boys' knapsacks and seeing what they had in store for us. Dave did it when he got home from being away for the weekend, and it was a nightmare.
Both boys had classwork they needed to finish at home. Gabriel's wasn't clear what it was supposed to be from, but he'd never mentioned it. Julian, we learned, had been sent to the principal's office again on Friday -- two days after getting sent twice -- for throwing other kids' lunchboxes around.
But alone with the Laura and Ryan and the kids -- those are the best times for everyone. I'm almost glad I didn't know about all that, or I'd have spent the whole weekend struggling to get them to finish their work, and looking for ways of punishing Julian for the principal office visit again. It just has to stop and there seems no getting through to them.
Didn't schools used to have "detention," where kids sit after school and finish classwork or homework, or do extra work if they were being punished for bad behavior? Something tells me that there's not much need for a detention room in Cupertino. Well, we certainly need one here.
Well, it was a fun weekend until discovering how un-fun it could have been if I'd had a chance to check their knapsacks on Friday!
5/8/2011
Saturday, May 07, 2011
5/7/2011 Save and score
I'm really starting to think soccer was something of a weird bust for us, because of the team Gabriel got put on. I learned recently that some of his teammates don't even go to practices -- they just show up for the games. That's not a team, that's a group of ringers.
Today's game was against a different league, so was way the heck out in San Jose and against a different makeup of kids, racially and physically. I noticed that at least 3 of the boys on the other team were overweight, and the parent onlookers were much rowdier. Indian moms wearing sarees in Cupertino never yell "GOOOOOO!!!!!" Gabriel's team looked so much smaller and skinnier and -- well, geekier.
Though the San Jose team put more pressure on Gabriel's team at first, it still wasn't long before Gabriel's team dominated the game anyway. By the second quarter, we were well ahead in goals, most of the action was around the opposing team's goal, and once again, "two-touch" and "no scoring" measures were put in place.
Gabriel was goalie for one quarter, and got a little action. He made a terrific save which I didn't catch on video, but I did catch this save.
(the "ohhhh" of disappointment is when Gabriel fields the kick.)
Later, somehow Gabriel's team got to kick in a penalty shot. Since his team is always so far ahead, the coach lets the weakest players shoot, and this time it was Gabriel's turn. He scored! He was pretty happy about that. He did a great job, actually, a nice kick.
(the cheering is from the opposing team's parents, not ours.)
Our coach and his superstar son left at halftime, so this was a first: Gabriel's team playing without fabulous #8. Turns out, the rest of the team is also so good it didn't matter. Gabriel doesn't even realize he's one of the very weakest players, actually. He has a lot of basic personality traits that would serve him well in soccer, but his inexperience really shows at this age.
He says he wants to do soccer in the fall again, and I'll support that if he really wants to (not just "oh, well, ok"), but I sort of hope he gets on a real team that doesn't just obliterate the competition and actually loses sometimes.
5/7/2011
Today's game was against a different league, so was way the heck out in San Jose and against a different makeup of kids, racially and physically. I noticed that at least 3 of the boys on the other team were overweight, and the parent onlookers were much rowdier. Indian moms wearing sarees in Cupertino never yell "GOOOOOO!!!!!" Gabriel's team looked so much smaller and skinnier and -- well, geekier.
Though the San Jose team put more pressure on Gabriel's team at first, it still wasn't long before Gabriel's team dominated the game anyway. By the second quarter, we were well ahead in goals, most of the action was around the opposing team's goal, and once again, "two-touch" and "no scoring" measures were put in place.
Gabriel was goalie for one quarter, and got a little action. He made a terrific save which I didn't catch on video, but I did catch this save.
(the "ohhhh" of disappointment is when Gabriel fields the kick.)
Later, somehow Gabriel's team got to kick in a penalty shot. Since his team is always so far ahead, the coach lets the weakest players shoot, and this time it was Gabriel's turn. He scored! He was pretty happy about that. He did a great job, actually, a nice kick.
(the cheering is from the opposing team's parents, not ours.)
Our coach and his superstar son left at halftime, so this was a first: Gabriel's team playing without fabulous #8. Turns out, the rest of the team is also so good it didn't matter. Gabriel doesn't even realize he's one of the very weakest players, actually. He has a lot of basic personality traits that would serve him well in soccer, but his inexperience really shows at this age.
He says he wants to do soccer in the fall again, and I'll support that if he really wants to (not just "oh, well, ok"), but I sort of hope he gets on a real team that doesn't just obliterate the competition and actually loses sometimes.
5/7/2011
Friday, May 06, 2011
5/6/2011 Early Friday
Got to work late today, didn't work through lunch, and left early. Yet I got a ton done and had a productive and useful day, both at work and outside.
This week my schedule has been crazy because of working late, trying to get ready to go back East for Dad's service...as a result, I've let myself sleep after Dave takes the kids to school.
What a DIFFERENCE in how I feel all day. Energized, optimistic, bursting with ideas....normal. Not dragging, not miserable, not waiting until the end of the day, not pushing myself -- but rather, strong and active.
I'm just so not a morning person. My life is a morning-person's life, but there's no question that I'm so, so, so much more productive and happy throughout the day if I work late, get to bed around 12am-1pm, then can sleep in the morning until 8:30 or 9:00.
I'll have to return to a "regular" schedule when I get back from NY, but it's clear once again that though I go through the motions, biologically, I'm just not cut out for the early life.
5/6/2011
This week my schedule has been crazy because of working late, trying to get ready to go back East for Dad's service...as a result, I've let myself sleep after Dave takes the kids to school.
What a DIFFERENCE in how I feel all day. Energized, optimistic, bursting with ideas....normal. Not dragging, not miserable, not waiting until the end of the day, not pushing myself -- but rather, strong and active.
I'm just so not a morning person. My life is a morning-person's life, but there's no question that I'm so, so, so much more productive and happy throughout the day if I work late, get to bed around 12am-1pm, then can sleep in the morning until 8:30 or 9:00.
I'll have to return to a "regular" schedule when I get back from NY, but it's clear once again that though I go through the motions, biologically, I'm just not cut out for the early life.
5/6/2011
Wednesday, May 04, 2011
5/4/2011 Restraining order
Our boys sure know how to exceed.
Today as I was picking them up, I was talking with the CDC director in his office with Julian, about "homework club," which we've signed Julian up for now. He's been messing around so much in class that he comes home with unfinished classwork, and can't keep up with his homework too. But somehow, he manages to "forget" he's supposed to do homework club, so I thought he needed a reminder.
During this conversation, Julian answered a question the CDC director asked him with, "Well, today the principal told me to...." Stop right there. The principal? Why were you talking to the principal? "Which time?" asked Julian. WHICH TIME?!
Turns out, Julian was sent to the principal's office twice today. And Gabriel was sent there once as well, for fighting with Julian. Seems the principal happened to catch Julian pushing Gabriel, and Gabriel pinning Julian against the wall in retaliation. Fluff stuff for them, but totally not allowed at school.
We got a note from the principal tonight, who said that he told both boys that during school, they are not to be closer than twenty steps to each other. They all we went out to the yard and he counted off twenty steps, and showed them how far apart from each other they need to be. The principal warned them that if they are caught together, they will both be benched for the remainder of that recess. He warned us that if there's any more hitting or kicking, they'll be suspended.
Twenty steps apart -- a restraining order of sorts. Can they possibly enforce that? Both boys of course immediately claim that it's impossible, because the other one will pester and break the rule.
This is really freakin' unbelievable. Most adults we talk to recall stories from their own childhoods, when they wouldn't have dared to defy their parents the way our boys do or speak so rudely to us when we sit down to talk with them sternly about being sent to the principal's office. But no one can give us any specific suggestions on what to do, short of threatening a whipping with a belt in the basement when Dad comes home. Frankly they both deserve it -- Julian has really been awful lately -- but let's be realistic here. How fast would Child Protective Services be on us if one of our kids actually reported anything like that happening to them? How could we possibly discuss this with other parents or teachers -- it's universally frowned on. Those sorts of methods just aren't done anymore, but nothing else that is done works to get through to them.
In this particular case, I think Gabriel was fairly innocent -- I don't blame him for being fed up with Julian's pestering. What's really called for is more separation. What a shame -- I like having my boys together, but it causes such constant problems. They're not even allowed to be together at school anymore -- they have to stay 20 steps apart.
To think, I was so looking forward to next year being the first year our kids are finally all at the same school. Instead, I'm dreading the next 2 years until Gabriel goes to middle school and they're finally apart!
5/4/2011
Today as I was picking them up, I was talking with the CDC director in his office with Julian, about "homework club," which we've signed Julian up for now. He's been messing around so much in class that he comes home with unfinished classwork, and can't keep up with his homework too. But somehow, he manages to "forget" he's supposed to do homework club, so I thought he needed a reminder.
During this conversation, Julian answered a question the CDC director asked him with, "Well, today the principal told me to...." Stop right there. The principal? Why were you talking to the principal? "Which time?" asked Julian. WHICH TIME?!
Turns out, Julian was sent to the principal's office twice today. And Gabriel was sent there once as well, for fighting with Julian. Seems the principal happened to catch Julian pushing Gabriel, and Gabriel pinning Julian against the wall in retaliation. Fluff stuff for them, but totally not allowed at school.
We got a note from the principal tonight, who said that he told both boys that during school, they are not to be closer than twenty steps to each other. They all we went out to the yard and he counted off twenty steps, and showed them how far apart from each other they need to be. The principal warned them that if they are caught together, they will both be benched for the remainder of that recess. He warned us that if there's any more hitting or kicking, they'll be suspended.
Twenty steps apart -- a restraining order of sorts. Can they possibly enforce that? Both boys of course immediately claim that it's impossible, because the other one will pester and break the rule.
This is really freakin' unbelievable. Most adults we talk to recall stories from their own childhoods, when they wouldn't have dared to defy their parents the way our boys do or speak so rudely to us when we sit down to talk with them sternly about being sent to the principal's office. But no one can give us any specific suggestions on what to do, short of threatening a whipping with a belt in the basement when Dad comes home. Frankly they both deserve it -- Julian has really been awful lately -- but let's be realistic here. How fast would Child Protective Services be on us if one of our kids actually reported anything like that happening to them? How could we possibly discuss this with other parents or teachers -- it's universally frowned on. Those sorts of methods just aren't done anymore, but nothing else that is done works to get through to them.
In this particular case, I think Gabriel was fairly innocent -- I don't blame him for being fed up with Julian's pestering. What's really called for is more separation. What a shame -- I like having my boys together, but it causes such constant problems. They're not even allowed to be together at school anymore -- they have to stay 20 steps apart.
To think, I was so looking forward to next year being the first year our kids are finally all at the same school. Instead, I'm dreading the next 2 years until Gabriel goes to middle school and they're finally apart!
5/4/2011
Tuesday, May 03, 2011
5/3/2011 The problem child
And here I thought Gabriel was our "difficult" one. Oops there I go again, pigeonholing and assigning roles.
Julian has been SUCH a pain lately! He's not finishing his schoolwork in class, he's being a pest at the CDC, and is really obnoxious when we try to talk to him, rolling his eyes and making loud groaning sounds.
I had to have a long heartfelt talk with him (squelching my irritation and dismay) about not teasing a CDC-mate who only has 4 fingers on one hand. I mean, how awful! I told him how sad it would make me if someone teased him for that. I also tossed in the hard-line approach that it's also "not allowed," but mostly focused on appealing to his humanity, and told him that he's a nice kid so he shouldn't say mean things. He made a lot of excuses, like that the other kid pushes him sometimes.
Julian's latest way of getting out of things is to scream "I'm **HUNGRY**!!" -- but only when asked to do something he doesn't want to do, and sometimes after he's had seconds or thirds at dinner. Sometimes he's so adament in this excuse that we have to send him outside. Sorry, Dave and I just need to talk when he gets home sometimes -- especially when I have a trip back East imminent because of my Dad's passing -- We get to talk!
I recently asked Julian's teacher about 2nd grade. She suggests that we fill in a request form with the principal for a teacher. We're not allowed to request a particular teacher; only characteristics. Here's what Julian's teacher said.
Seems every year toward the end of the school year, I shift into "hang-in-there" mode, in which I cross my fingers and hope that we make it to the end of the school year without any major disasters. This year, that anxiety is directed at Julian!
What is it with my bright little boys, bursting with health and vigor, brimming with promise and potential -- why are they so DARNED DIFFICULT?!
5/3/2011
Julian has been SUCH a pain lately! He's not finishing his schoolwork in class, he's being a pest at the CDC, and is really obnoxious when we try to talk to him, rolling his eyes and making loud groaning sounds.
I had to have a long heartfelt talk with him (squelching my irritation and dismay) about not teasing a CDC-mate who only has 4 fingers on one hand. I mean, how awful! I told him how sad it would make me if someone teased him for that. I also tossed in the hard-line approach that it's also "not allowed," but mostly focused on appealing to his humanity, and told him that he's a nice kid so he shouldn't say mean things. He made a lot of excuses, like that the other kid pushes him sometimes.
Julian's latest way of getting out of things is to scream "I'm **HUNGRY**!!" -- but only when asked to do something he doesn't want to do, and sometimes after he's had seconds or thirds at dinner. Sometimes he's so adament in this excuse that we have to send him outside. Sorry, Dave and I just need to talk when he gets home sometimes -- especially when I have a trip back East imminent because of my Dad's passing -- We get to talk!
I recently asked Julian's teacher about 2nd grade. She suggests that we fill in a request form with the principal for a teacher. We're not allowed to request a particular teacher; only characteristics. Here's what Julian's teacher said.
Yes, you can make a request of the type of teacher that would best fit Julian. I am going to recommend that his room and Gabriel's room be as far apart as possible next year. Being so close together this year made things difficult.
If I could pick the perfect teacher for Julian, the characteristics of this teacher would be: FIRM, structured, give positive praise when needed, appreciate music/arts, energetic, knows about nature and science.
Seems every year toward the end of the school year, I shift into "hang-in-there" mode, in which I cross my fingers and hope that we make it to the end of the school year without any major disasters. This year, that anxiety is directed at Julian!
What is it with my bright little boys, bursting with health and vigor, brimming with promise and potential -- why are they so DARNED DIFFICULT?!
5/3/2011
Saturday, April 30, 2011
4/30/2011 James Russell Berry
(I wrote this Saturday but didn't want to post it until notification had gone out.)
My father passed away tonight.
I got the call from the nursing home at around 7pm, he had just died a few minutes before. The kind night nurse gave me lots of details, but I couldn't hear a thing she said. I was overcome with shock and sadness and the mourning I've not been able to have for many years. Though I knew I'd want to know what she was saying, I intensely wanted to be with my brother and sister, and hurried off the phone to call them right away.
Dave took care of the kids while I talked to my siblings and absorbed it all. I felt like I'd just lost the father I knew before Alzheimer's slowly chipped away at his mind, leaving behind just a few familiar gestures and facial expressions. It's like the whole 10 years of taking care of someone slowly succumbing to dementia never happened. Now that I could freely remember him the way he was, I really wanted to, so looked through some old pictures.
This is a rare photo of him and me, in January 1966 when I was 2. I have many memories of sitting on my father's lap and talking with him; we did that up until I was 11 or 12. I like this picture because it reminds me that he really loved me, even though I drove him crazy sometimes and we argued a lot.
Many photos of my Dad are with one arm leaning against something, the other arm perched on his hip, and with one foot crossing the other. I think this photo was taken on our 5-week summer cross-country camping trip, in our 1969 VW squareback.
Alzheimer's is such robbery. My father was only 78 when he died, but he was clearly showing symptoms when he was only 68. 68 and 78 are when I should really have been able to enjoy him, when his childraising responsibilities, and resentments at not really meeting them, were long over.
(November 1999 I think)
Though the logistics of raising children weren't his strong suit, he was always warm and loving and extremely affectionate with us. He'd have made a much better grandfather, when his childlike side could come out and be put away quickly as soon as children become annoying and are handed back to their rightful owners.
With time and age, disappointments and anger about childhood failings had been met and resolved and accepted, and given way to appreciating the many things we did share and the solid bond and love we had. I'd love to be able call him and share new insights or funny stories about kids, and listen to him marvel at some idea I had or laugh heartily at something I said. Alzheimer's took that away from us.
And now the good memories are flooding in. Some had been bad memories that I can now look at differently with the privilege of retrospect, and laugh about. Now instead of being sad that I can't call my Dad and chat with him because he's in late-stage Alzheimer's, I can be glad about the times that I did call him, before the disease blocked his mind and memories and ability to speak. Death brings with it closure, an elusive luxury for Alzheimer's families.
Now, I can finally remember my relationship my father in retrospect and smile about it.
4/30/2011
My father passed away tonight.
I got the call from the nursing home at around 7pm, he had just died a few minutes before. The kind night nurse gave me lots of details, but I couldn't hear a thing she said. I was overcome with shock and sadness and the mourning I've not been able to have for many years. Though I knew I'd want to know what she was saying, I intensely wanted to be with my brother and sister, and hurried off the phone to call them right away.
Dave took care of the kids while I talked to my siblings and absorbed it all. I felt like I'd just lost the father I knew before Alzheimer's slowly chipped away at his mind, leaving behind just a few familiar gestures and facial expressions. It's like the whole 10 years of taking care of someone slowly succumbing to dementia never happened. Now that I could freely remember him the way he was, I really wanted to, so looked through some old pictures.
This is a rare photo of him and me, in January 1966 when I was 2. I have many memories of sitting on my father's lap and talking with him; we did that up until I was 11 or 12. I like this picture because it reminds me that he really loved me, even though I drove him crazy sometimes and we argued a lot.
Many photos of my Dad are with one arm leaning against something, the other arm perched on his hip, and with one foot crossing the other. I think this photo was taken on our 5-week summer cross-country camping trip, in our 1969 VW squareback.
Alzheimer's is such robbery. My father was only 78 when he died, but he was clearly showing symptoms when he was only 68. 68 and 78 are when I should really have been able to enjoy him, when his childraising responsibilities, and resentments at not really meeting them, were long over.
(November 1999 I think)
Though the logistics of raising children weren't his strong suit, he was always warm and loving and extremely affectionate with us. He'd have made a much better grandfather, when his childlike side could come out and be put away quickly as soon as children become annoying and are handed back to their rightful owners.
With time and age, disappointments and anger about childhood failings had been met and resolved and accepted, and given way to appreciating the many things we did share and the solid bond and love we had. I'd love to be able call him and share new insights or funny stories about kids, and listen to him marvel at some idea I had or laugh heartily at something I said. Alzheimer's took that away from us.
And now the good memories are flooding in. Some had been bad memories that I can now look at differently with the privilege of retrospect, and laugh about. Now instead of being sad that I can't call my Dad and chat with him because he's in late-stage Alzheimer's, I can be glad about the times that I did call him, before the disease blocked his mind and memories and ability to speak. Death brings with it closure, an elusive luxury for Alzheimer's families.
Now, I can finally remember my relationship my father in retrospect and smile about it.
4/30/2011
4/30/2011 Neighborhood kids
A most unusual sound coming from our backyard today: children! Four neighborhood boys found their way into our backyard today, and were playing ball and riding bicycles with Julian.
As normal an American scene as that might seem, this is still Cupertino (effectively), which means the non-English-speaking grandmother isn't far away. I felt bad for this lady sitting outside waiting for her charges, for hours, but I had a lot to do, I wasn't about to invite her in. I did try to talk to her, but she couldn't communicate at all.
One of the boys Julian was playing with is a 2nd-grader at his school, so he knows him. The boy's younger brother is going into kindergarten next year -- maybe he'll be in Katrina's class. The boy is also in the same soccer league that Gabriel is in, though in a different age division. Who knows -- maybe there is some hope yet for this neighborhood, and they'll be allowed to play together without the poor grandmother dogging them.
Speaking of community and kids, today Gabriel's soccer team had its official team photo. It was missing much of the official team, however.
Today's game was also missing much of the official team -- Gabriel's team was short one player, and there was no subbing at all.
Still, despite being short one player, Gabriel's team blew away its competition again, scoring 3 goals in the first few minutes of the game. Our coach had to impose measures in the first quarter, such as a "two-touch" then a "one-touch" rule, and telling the star Ivan not to score.
Gabriel was goalie for the 1st half of the game (too long in my opinion, no other players are ever goalie for more than a quarter). His teammates tried to stick him with goalie in the 2nd half too, but the coach insisted on a rotation. He had a good reason too: he needed to name the weaker players as the only ones who could score.
So in the 2nd half of the game, Gabriel was one of two "strikers," meaning one of only two kids on his team allowed to score. Gabriel assumed this was because he was one of the better players, but I straightened him out on that one. He had a few chances to score but didn't take the shots for some reason. Winning didn't matter by now because the game had been won in the first quarter. Many of Gabriel's teammates are just too good for this division, and will move to "U12" (under 12) in the fall, even though they're just 8 or 9 now. They'd already moved to this "U10" division when they were 6 and 7.
Soccer in the fall will be tough, but maybe a little easier if we actually get to know some of the other parents around here?!
4/30/2011
As normal an American scene as that might seem, this is still Cupertino (effectively), which means the non-English-speaking grandmother isn't far away. I felt bad for this lady sitting outside waiting for her charges, for hours, but I had a lot to do, I wasn't about to invite her in. I did try to talk to her, but she couldn't communicate at all.
One of the boys Julian was playing with is a 2nd-grader at his school, so he knows him. The boy's younger brother is going into kindergarten next year -- maybe he'll be in Katrina's class. The boy is also in the same soccer league that Gabriel is in, though in a different age division. Who knows -- maybe there is some hope yet for this neighborhood, and they'll be allowed to play together without the poor grandmother dogging them.
Speaking of community and kids, today Gabriel's soccer team had its official team photo. It was missing much of the official team, however.
Today's game was also missing much of the official team -- Gabriel's team was short one player, and there was no subbing at all.
Still, despite being short one player, Gabriel's team blew away its competition again, scoring 3 goals in the first few minutes of the game. Our coach had to impose measures in the first quarter, such as a "two-touch" then a "one-touch" rule, and telling the star Ivan not to score.
Gabriel was goalie for the 1st half of the game (too long in my opinion, no other players are ever goalie for more than a quarter). His teammates tried to stick him with goalie in the 2nd half too, but the coach insisted on a rotation. He had a good reason too: he needed to name the weaker players as the only ones who could score.
So in the 2nd half of the game, Gabriel was one of two "strikers," meaning one of only two kids on his team allowed to score. Gabriel assumed this was because he was one of the better players, but I straightened him out on that one. He had a few chances to score but didn't take the shots for some reason. Winning didn't matter by now because the game had been won in the first quarter. Many of Gabriel's teammates are just too good for this division, and will move to "U12" (under 12) in the fall, even though they're just 8 or 9 now. They'd already moved to this "U10" division when they were 6 and 7.
Soccer in the fall will be tough, but maybe a little easier if we actually get to know some of the other parents around here?!
4/30/2011
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