The Domestic Diva, Valentine Edition

Couldn't really include this in yesterday's post because Sammi's teachers read my blog.  And these cookies are for them. 

So, continuing with Saturday's productive activities, Sunday also proved to be fairly productive, even if it involved staying in jammies.  While the cookies were (just skip the next part of this sentence, teachers!!) not totally made from scratch, I did add some ingredients, add food coloring, roll the dough, cut the shapes by hand with a knife, and attempt to decorate them.  Okay, so they're sort of from scratch, right?  Sammi helped a little bit, but being a control freak, I couldn't let her do much more than sprinkle the red stuff on.  She was more interested in scamming ways to eat the raw dough.

And scamming ways to eat the finished product, of course.  "Mommy, I need another cookie!  Please?  Please, Mommy?  I need it!  Pleeeeeeeease?" 

May I just say that there are a freaking gazillion kids in Sammi's class?  20-something.  Way more cards to address than a child with a short attention span can hope to knock out in a week.  We did Hello Kitty for the girls, and Star Wars for the boys.  Would have done them all the same, but the cards came with magnets.  I don't really think the boys would really appreciate the Hello Kitty magnet.  Besides, (and I'm gonna make my geek-girl confession, here...) I wanted a Star Wars magnet (or 8) for myself...

The Valentine's Day Princess, getting ready for school.  Thank you to Steve's friend, who made this adorable dress for her!  

Happy Valentine's Day to you all!

The Domestic Diva, Weekend Edition

As I have done so often before, I will bite the bullet and date myself by recalling a rainy day elementary school memory.  You know, those days too wet to go outside for gym or for recess, the days when the tall, metal A/V cart was wheeled into the classroom, a reel-to-reel projector perched on the top, the teacher spending entirely too long trying to feed the film end into the empty reel...  The movies watched on those occasions, miraculously, have remained in my memories, ingrained in most of my senses, from the sound of the scratchy audio track to the plasticine scent of the celluloid, mixed with the dust settled onto each tier of the cart, the visual smorgasboard projected before us, my emotions, some more intense than others, piqued. 

I remember one film with a catchy little tune and no dialogue, of two little animated characters, one round and one tall, best friends, torn from each other by misunderstanding and jealousy - something to do with a rolling stone (the title, perhaps?)...funny how it feels so fresh, yet the details remain just outside my grasp...  One film was a puppet animation, King Midas.  Another, most certainly the one that affected me the most, perhaps the one that shaped a big part of who I am today (dramatic?  not really - it was devastating to me), was a short nature documentary about a fire in a field.  No dialogue, but the soundtrack was intense as the camera zoomed in on a nest of baby birds, alive, mouths open searching for food in one scene, their blackened carcasses smoldering in the next.  I cried every time, the rest of my class seemingly untouched...  I was in 4th or 5th grade.  I still wonder why, and at that moment, I could only think that the cinematographer must have no soul, no heart, no conscience (neither did my teacher, for that matter, for thinking it was okay to show that).  Why couldn't they have intervened?? 

Anyone else remember that? Sorry, didn't mean to put a damper on your day, but sometimes I just don't want to be the only one with the memory.

But, as usual, I digress.  One other film we viewed was a documentary of a little girl and her family, their garden overflowing with a bounty of fruits and vegetables, her fingers digging in the rich, dark dirt to pick fresh legumes, washing each item with such care, cutting them, tasting their fresh earthiness.  Seriously, watching that I could think of nothing better at that moment than eating a raw carrot, crunching into a lettuce leaf, eating fresh peas right out of the pod.  Maybe it was close to lunchtime, maybe it was just my first taste of pure documentary filmmaking, romanticizing such an ordinary activity to evoke a strong emotional response.

I thought of that film on Saturday.

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before (on numerous occasions) that I don't cook.  But on the weekends, especially on the cold, dreary winter weekends, I always vow to at least try to make something that I think Sammi will actually eat, or that can involve her in the preparation.  And sometimes food just begs to be photographed. 

I'll start you off with my Saturday lunch, enjoyed by me, myself and I.  Avocado and Laughing Cow blue cheese spread sandwich.  Yummiest. Lunch. Ever.  

Next I dusted off my neglected slow cooker (something I've been meaning to do on many a winter weekend) and attempted a recipe my mother had cooked for me just last Saturday - pork chops and sweet potatoes in an apple cider reduction (okay, reduction may not be the correct word to use here, but it makes it sound fancier...).  And, if I must say so myself, it tasted great and the ingredients were pretty darn beautiful. 

I love how, through well-staged photos, my kitchen (sorry, Steve, for my use of "my" here, when I'm so rarely in it...) can look like this beautiful, old, country-style kitchen, nestled at the back of a cozy farmhouse instead of a typical townhome-builder's mass-produced cookie cutter creation.  Or maybe I delude myself...

Our newest furniture acquisition, thanks to many months of Steve trawling Craigslist for exactly. this. piece.  So sick of dust-covered items on the silver bakers rack that formerly occupied this space.

Guess what else we made yesterday?

Um, yeah, definitely not a country farmhouse sink.  Oh well, it's nice to dream.

A carefree moment, Mommy relaxing her rules (ie. over-cautious fears of salmonella poisoning) and letting a kid be a kid.  Poor Sammi, she relentlessly begged me to let her lick the spoon.  How could I possibly say no to this face?

Sorry, I Got Nuthin' Today...

...except this sweet, silly, smoochable little face.  Happy Friday!

In Search of Perfection: OCD and Down Syndrome

Somewhere, embedded in the extra chromosome that graces the genetic makeup of our children, there is a little compartment labeled, in neatly-organized organic matter-type letters, "Perfectionism," and I don't mean the kind that just says our kids are perfect (which they ARE!).  I'm pretty sure they all have it.  Somewhere.  Although, in anticipating some of your responses about how messy or disorganized your children are, I'll venture to say that that little "compartment" may not have been accessed just yet... 

First of all, I have not done any research into this topic, although I'm sure plenty of data exists.   But leaving it up to individual experiences and heresay is so much more fun, don't you think?  And trust me, if I thought there was a problem, I'd be all over the web in a hot second to find out more from that expert data, wherever it may lie.

Samantha likes to have order in her life.  Advanced warning of things-to-come is key to a smooth transition from activity to activity, and following the rules on how things should be, or how she thinks things should be (often based on something she'd observed us doing on at least one occasion, whether right or...gasp...wrong...) is just something she does (okay, not always, but most of the time).  Especially when we've given her some sort of reasoning as to why something should be done a certain way.  Telling her that a seatbelt needs to be on so she can be safe (thank you, Dora!) is a very compelling reason, and she's obsessively gung-ho about it, to the point where she yells for me to wait and not drive the car yet because Daddy's seatbelt hasn't been fastened yet.  Okay, okay, I got it!  Right now we're working on the "Don't use too much toilet paper because it'll break the toilet, okay honey?" lesson.

Closing the downstairs powder room door is a biggie for her, and one for which I don't believe I've ever given her reason to feel that need.  I'm thinking that she's seen us do it often, which is reason enough for her. 

Changing her underwear twice a day...well, I have no idea about that one...  Any time there's a clothing change, it has to include underwear.  Or she has a whiny little fit, eyes squinched, feet stomping, arms crossed...  Do I give in?  Well, unless I can provide a compelling reason not to let her change, yes.

There was a scene in Monica and David that both Steve and I call back to memory often.  Monica and David were making their bed, carefully, neatly.  When it came time for them to place the little decorative pillows on top of the spread, there was an urgent back and forth between the two of them, one moving the pillow into a position they thought was perfect, the other tugging it back just slightly into what they thought was the right place.  Samantha does that when she helps me make our bed.  If I move it to where I want it, she jumps in and quickly edges it back, just. so.

Consistency.  Order.  Object Permanence, perhaps.  Control. 

Such important concepts that shape the brains of our children. 

Is this a bad thing?  Nah.  Well, not unless it starts to get in the way of daily functioning or leads to anxiety.  Applying reason to the situations may help mitigate some of the less-desired behaviors, but for now, I'm going to pick my battles and enjoy the nice, (mostly) tidy room with Samantha's name on the door. 

What has your experince been with OCD and your child with Down syndrome?

Wordless Wednesday: Rainbow Bright and The Artist's Showroom

Educating the Masses (A Quick World Geography Lesson...)

So today I'm gonna do my husband a little favor and give my fellow Americans a quick lesson in World Geography (Rochelle, let Jason know this is for him, too!).  I won't say why I'm bringing this up today, but let's just say I'm reasonably certain that this is not being taught properly in American schools, threatening to ruin our long-standing relationship with our closest ally.

I am talking about the United Kingdom and all of its parts.  If we fall out of favor, what would we do without Masterpiece Theater?  Posh and Becks?  Cadbury?  Dr. Who?  Madonna?  And do you have any idea just how many of the television shows we produce ourselves in the US were actually based on shows previously and originally created by the folks across the pond?  What on earth would we do without those?  I think we'd be forced to revert to new programming, the likes of Starsky and Hutch, Man from Atlantis, Happy Days...

So, in an effort to promote peace, here we go...

England, Scotland, Northern Ireland, Wales and Ireland (Eire) are all countries.  That's right, folks, they are each separate and individual countries. 

Great Britain is comprised of England, Scotland and Wales.

The United Kingdom is actually a "sovereign state" (don't worry, that won't be on the quiz...), more formally known as The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. 

Still with me here?

Ireland (Eire) is a completely separate country, not in the United Kingdom. 

Okay?

Now, just to reiterate and check for understanding:

*  England is a country.  Here is the flag of England (the symbol is known as the St. George's Cross):

* Scotland is a country.  Here is the flag of Scotland:

* Wales is a country.  Here is the flag of Wales:

* Contrary to what many, many people think, this is NOT the flag of England:

It is the flag of the United Kingdom (hint:  see how it contains elements of the flag of England and the flag of Scotland?  Wales is not represented due to factors in play at the time the flag was designed...).

I think it's time we begin to practice Country First language.  England is a country.  A person from England is English first, British second.  Call Steve British, and he'll be quick to correct you, to tell you he's English.  Why shouldn't he be allowed to feel pride in his country?  Sometimes we Americans can be pretty self-centered to think that downplaying the importance of someone else's national origin shouldn't be offensive to someone.  I won't even go into the cringe-worthy pain and offense he feels when people think it's funny to mimic his accent.  It's not.   

In teaching school children, I think this distinction should be made.  It doesn't have to be a complicated lesson, but it does have to be something that is understood.

'nuff said.

Okay, now, back to your regularly-scheduled airing of the Golden Globes... 

Hearing Our Voices

Let's face it, there just isn't enough money for everything.  Needing more money for things, tangible or otherwise, is just a fact of life, unless you're some sort of mega-star bleeding enough cash to pretty much close off the entire maternity ward during the birth of your beloved daughter or trick out a new babymobile with enough bling to be seen from Jupiter (Beyonce, you know I'm talkin' about you...). 

County public school systems are no exception to the need for money, and the need for bucks at the County level affects so, so many people in a rather abrupt trickle-down effect.  Perhaps spalsh-down effect would be more accurate.  Our county announced recently that it was considering cuts to the Special Education teachers' salaries.  One such cut would involve reducing the hours-per-day of the Special Education classroom aides to make them ineligible for benefits.  These aides are incredibly valuable and brilliant resource teachers here, most of whom do what they do because they love the job of working with the children, not because they're making much money, which they're not.  The result of the cut would force many of these teachers to resign, causing less classroom support and making self-contained classrooms an ever-present, proliferating wave of the future, making an archaic jump backwards, away from inclusive classroom settings, and stunting so much of the progress of the last 20 years.

Last Tuesday the School Board opened their doors to an evening of public comment at one of their meetings.  This was the last opportunity for people to speak out in front of the Board before the decision is made.  Now as much as I, personally, would have loved to have attended, Steve and I discussed it and decided that he should go and speak.  I'm way too shy and know I would have instantly balked, and having a man, a father, get up there and speak out for his little girl also would likely make a bigger impact.  He called and got himself on the speaker's list, at number 53. 

The audience was comprised of approximately 400-500 people - teachers, educators, parents, etc.  He was a little dismayed to see very few parents there speaking out against Special Education cuts - the bulk of the speakers were bus drivers, another group being similarly affected.  He left after he spoke, and there were many speakers still to come, but of the 53, only about 10 were there regarding Special Ed. 

He got oohs and ahhs when he showed a blown-up and laminated photo of Sammi from her preschool graduation, and had a house-full of silent applause, arms waving furiously in the air, when he finished.  He was followed out by a reporter from a local NPR affiliate radio station and briefly interviewed, the audio of which aired the next morning, missed by us but heard and recounted back to me by a friend. 

Below is his basic speech that he gave, minus some effective ad-libbing, at which he tends to shine.  He has also sent an e-mail to the Board, something I am hoping all those who were absent or who did not speak that night have done.

This is a picture of my daughter, Samantha Elizabeth Bates.  Remember that name, because given the opportunity through education, she may be able to achieve things that would not have been possible without the dedicated Special Education teachers and aides in (this) County.  Please do not restrict my daughter's education by cutting any of the positions currently occupied and by not supporting other proposed positions.

My daughter did not choose to be born with Down syndrome, but she *does* choose to participate alongside her peers in reading, writing, playing and learning.  This would not be possible without the support and love of the great team of special educators involved in Samantha's life.

Samantha and students like her have the right to be given the chance to fulfill their potential.  Not just part way, but to the limit of what they are capable of achieving.  Samantha loves to read books, she loves to learn her numbers and letters.  She loves to play doctor and has told us numerous times that she wants to *be* a doctor.  That may not be a realistic option, but at least give her the chance to try, and don't restrict her education because of money and statistics.  You have the opportunity to make the lives of these students exciting and less restrictive.  They will have many challenges throughout their time in the school system.  With your help, they may just surprise you all.  I'm going to go now, so my daughter can read *me* a bedtime story.

Thank you for your time.

For those of you who live in this county and were not able to make it to that meeting, you can still submit an e-mail to the School Board.  Do it today!! - I think tomorrow is decision-time...  Fingers crossed...