CPS vs. the Tooth Fairy

I'm lying in bed right now, at this freakishly early hour, watching the grey and angry ocean out the window, the waves crashing on the shore uninvitingly.  The constant fire on my back from the sunburn I sustained yesterday (note to self:  When applying spray sunscreen to your back in a breezy environment, have someone else do it for you so the precious 50-block doesn't disappear off into the air, or onto a passing seagull) is lessened only by the fact that my sweet Princess is sitting on the bed with me cuddling a new toy and perusing the photos and videos on my cell phone.  Oh, and the pain is further lessened by the 16 oz. Wawa coffee sitting on the bedside table, of course. 

I don't know what it is about vacations and loose teeth. 

Samantha's 4th loose tooth began to present itself as a little bit wiggly about a month ago.  I have to remind myself frequently to feel all of the teeth in her mouth periodically to see if any are getting ready to go.  The concept of losing teeth is still strange to me, when it took so darn long to get the ones she has in the first place.  But they seem to (so far) grow back pretty quickly, so with that I am satisfied.  So that 4th loose tooth, just a little bit wiggly, didn't seem that it would be ready to go for quite some time.  I figured we'd have another month, most likely. 

Sunday, as we sat on the beach, Samantha thoroughly occupied with filling and dumping buckets of sand and mud and water, thoroughly happy to throw herself onto her stomach into self-dug tidal pools full of sand fleas and baby hermit crabs, loose teeth were the last things on my mind.  More, I was keeping a close eye out for the previous day's drunk college students, hoping to get a good laugh at seeing them cradling their sore heads, nursing bottles of Gatorade.  But, much to my disappointment, they were nowhere to be seen.  Samantha and I returned to our blanket so we could dry off and gather our things to return to the condo.  Tired and just a little bit giddy, she was having a hard time listening, nothing terribly unusual these days.  As she threw herself at Steve, who was sitting in a beach chair, he put his hand out to stop her from crashing into him and knocking him over, but, in a lightning-fast moment of coincidence, she lowered her head directly into the path of his out-stretching arm, causing him to clock her in the face.

Tears, tears, tears...  And poor Steve, he felt just awful.

We checked her out, and she looked fine, the tears transcending to sniffles, then back to smiles again as we continued to gather our belongings.  Samantha then took a sandy hand and wiped her face with it, realizing in that instant that sand does not taste good, nor does it feel good when entering eyes.  Before the next round of tears could start, I grabbed a (slightly sandy) towel and began to wipe her mouth, but, again, she lurched forward as I reached out, and hand connected with mouth.

Ugh.

This time, she opened her mouth and blood poured out. 

Through her tears I was able to coax her to let me take a look and saw that the tooth was hanging by a thread.  Before she reached into her mouth and handed me the tooth. 

Niiiiice.

As Steve took Sammi down to the water to help her rinse with some salt water, I held up the tooth and joked with some women the next blanket over about how the beach is not the ideal place to lose one of those.  One of the women kindly offered me a baggie to put it in.

And so Steve and I feel terrible that we both had to beat our child to get her tooth, and are hoping that the Tooth Fairy will win this round and we won't find CPS (Child Protective Services) waiting at our doorstep when we return home to Virginia.  And Samantha harbors no ill feelings, proud that she's been so brave through yet another episode of this long, drawn-out right of passage. 

So I Lied...

Um, yeah, so I lied the other day when I said I'd be gone all week with no internet access.  Thanks to a work colleague who lent me her boyfriend's MiFi, we have a nice, healthy, strong signal.  Which is a blessing and a curse.  A blessing because we can still be blissfully tethered to the outside world (and the rolling dramas on the tempestuous sea that is Facebook, of course), but a curse because it means that valuable time ordinarily spent outdoors or in each other's company engaging in scintillating conversation, are spent in front of a computer/tablet/phone.  Eh, such is life.

So, here I am, on this cloudy, foggy, breezy morning following two of the most gorgeous beach days imaginable, exercising my right to blog, even when on vacation.

We have had several of the busiest days we've seen in a long, long time.  After Samantha's last day of Kindergarten, pictures from which will follow eventually, we quickly packed the car full to the roof of all of our warm-weather wear and portable electronic devices (uh, I think those may have comprised the bulk of the transportable items) and drove north to the beach of my childhood, up in South Jersey.  My uncle generously lent us the use of his spacious 2-bedroom condo for the week, where we could enjoy only slightly obstructed beach views and a short 20-yard walk to the boardwalk and the hot sand beyond.  On the other side, we could enjoy a short 20-yard walk to the Wawa.  For any of you following along on Facebook, you may be wondering which walk I'm more excited about.  And, to be honest, while I absolutely love the beach, it's a toss-up.  Feel free to read the article I just linked to, and be jealous...

First day, we drove 4 hours north and settled onto the beach, we soaked in some rays, covered ourselves from head to bum in sand, splashed around in in the waves, and tried to avoid the throngs of drunk college students, most of whom were likely not old enough to drink, who swarmed the coastline.  Actually, Steve witnessed them pouring vodka into soda cans.  I eavesdropped (and laughed maniacally, silently, in my head) on one young man, slurring his words pathetically, as he tried to chat up a group of young women sitting behind us.  It was actually his use of the R-word that made me turn my head.  I think sometimes I have some sort of "R-word" radar.  I'm sure most of you know exactly what I'm talking about.  Once the drunk guys started throwing a football around in the highest-traffic areas, hitting an old lady in the head as she strolled along the beach with her husband, narrowly missing Samantha not once, but twice, we stopped thinking it was amusing, and Steve shared his own word, of the 4-letter variety, with one of them, halting their reckless activity.  After showering and changing, we met up with my parents, who live nearby, for dinner.

I'll leave it here for now, with a couple of cell phone pics.  I'll recap the action-packed Day 2 in another post, as it requires a few photos. 

Anyway, my compulsion these days requires that I feel guilt if I miss a M-Th of blog-posting, so, boring post or otherwise, the show must go on.  Day 3, and we've woken up to a thick, rolling fog.  Not sure what the day has in store, but even if the beach itself is not in the cards, we've got plenty more to do!

       

Outta Here!



notmypic

Today will likely be my last post for the next week or so, while we're on vacation in the land of internet-free living.  Well, not by choice, anyway.  We'll be heading to the beach and just don't happen to have internet access while we're gone (unless we can leech a wireless signal from one of the neighbors...).  Maybe it'll be liberating, maybe I'll love it.  Maybe I'll be climbing the walls in desperation, composing all of my blog posts in Word on a static machine.  But at least I can still update my FB status and post pics from my phone with a simple text message.

As I cautioned you all last year when we went away on vacation, don't bother trying to rob our house - my neighbors might be packing heat, and all you'd find here would be a lonely cat who'd be thrilled to see you.  Oh, and probably enough dust and other allergens to send you running for the hills. 

I know I still need to post birthday party pics, and I'm terribly torn up about missing the next Special Needs Blog Hop on Wednesday, but trust me, I probably won't be thinking of any of you all that much while I'm sitting on the beach, eating Kohr Bros. frozen custard (if you've never had it, it's like heaven on a cone), watching the ocean, listening to the seagulls, and smelling the overwhelming odeur of coconut-infused, baking human flesh.

I'll just leave you with that thought for now. 

      

Wednesday Special Needs Blog Hop: Downs Kid? (and other words of brilliance)

This little snippet of conversation between Spock and Kirk illustrates Meriah's Blog Hop topic this week:  what have people said that has gotten under your skin about something that relates to your connection with disability - and what do you want them to say instead?

I'm not the sort of person to call out a well-meaning person on something they've said that isn't totally appropriate in the special needs community.  I mean, how are they supposed to know?  They think they're saying something nice, but there's a whole book of more PC jargon out there that they can't have been expected to read.  Those of us in the know hear what they say, we feel the nails on the chalkboard, and we should just let it go, which I do.  Why alienate someone over that? 

That being said, that nails-on-the-chalkboard effect still lingers when someone says "Downs kid," or "Down syndrome children."  Want to make me really squirm (another one for my Words I Hate list...) in my seat in discomfort?  Use the words high functioning or low functioning in a sentence.  No, I won't call you out on it.  Actually, you may be surprised that I'll actually be speechless and won't say anything at all.  I'll start fidgeting, look down, desperately trying to think of some appropriate way to respond.  Usually I'll just change the subject right then and there.  

I mean, what the heck do you say to that?  Thank you?  Not appropriate.  I don't think people can be viewed in terms of functionality, especially as children.  Do people, not in the SN community, view children who can't speak as low functioning?  Apraxia is a real condition that prevents someone from being able to mimic sounds.  Doesn't mean they can't function. Or that they aren't smart.  It can be overcome.  Do people, not in the SN community, view people who don't speak clearly as low functioning?  By nature of their physical make-up, they are unable to speak clearly.  Nothing to do with their mental abilities.  Do people, not in the SN community, view a person as high functioning or low functioning based on their ability to engage them, with their eyes, their smile, their body language?  Well, you know what?  My kid's a smart cookie, but catch her at a bad time, when any particular set of circumstances happen to come together randomly, and she may be completely shut down.  Head down, arms limp at her side, eyes on the floor, tongue out, not talking.  Does this mean someone will view her as low functioning? 

This term is based on nothing other than a need for people to categorize, to classify, to judge.  While the well-meaning person may just be wanting to pay a compliment, I think the better way to go about it would be to say, "Your daughter is so bright!"  And yes, they'll get an answer from me then.

"Thank you."

The Last Week

I'm in complete disbelief that it's already the last week of school.  The last week of Kindergarten.  It's bittersweet, really.  We'll miss her amazing classroom teacher, Mrs. R., as she has believed in our little girl in a way I didn't think existed.  As the mother of an adult child with physical and intellectual disabilities, she gets it in a way that I don't think most people do.  She knows how to teach to children, to encourage them, to guide them along the path they are forging to their futures.  Sure, you could say that about most teachers, but this one's different.

All the trepidation we had going into a typical public school Kindergarten setting melted away on the first day when we saw how well-supported she was by her teachers, how instantly-accepted she was by her peers.  And watching how she's thrived in that setting, and hearing how everyone is 100% behind the idea of her moving on to 1st grade, we can easily say what an amazing experience this whole year has been. 

Moving forward, staying in the same school, having the same Resource teachers and classroom support from the incredible two Mrs. Ds, interacting with many of the same children she's been with all year, I feel confident that next year will be just as rewarding.  My only fears come from the fact that she will be with many other children that she does not know, those children from the PM Kindy sessions that we never, ever see.  But I'm sure she'll win them over in no time. 

We're off for a bit after school ends, before Sammi begins her summer school run for 5 weeks, where again, she'll be meeting a whole new group of (older) children, 1st graders moving into 2nd (there is no Kindy summer school program).  I'm looking forward to seeing what she'll accomplish there, how it will help build her confidence and flexibility.  Heh, I hope.

In this last week of school, Samantha has been given charge of Maggie, the classroom bear.  Since February, Maggie has been going on short adventures with all of the other students in the class.  And, while her clothes are seriously in need of a wash, I have to put my germ phobia aside for a bit and enjoy how Samantha has embraced the responsibility of making sure Maggie has a good time.  Last night they played piano.  Today they'll be going to the bagel store.  Tomorrow we'll be prying Sammi's death grip off the bear as we try to explain to her that Maggie has to go back to school now so she can have another adventure with someone else over the summer.  Most likely at the bottom of a box somewhere.  Or in a washing machine.    

Pretty Party Pics

So, sorry to disappoint, but there are no people in these pics today.  Those will come in a future post.  But I was pretty pleased with myself again this year (if I may say so myself!) putting Sammi's 6th birthday party together.  As with last year, I started pulling ideas and bits and pieces together several months in advance, once I decided on a theme.  Samantha, still at this age, really couldn't care less about what the theme is.  Last year I knew that she was really into Olivia, and at that point in time, Olivia party stuff wasn't yet on the market (although the Party Store now has a section of it this year), so I made it.  This year she wasn't necessarily into anything in particular, so I took it upon myself to decide on a color theme, based on the colors in her room - turquoise, orange and pink floral.   

I had fun doing it, and am already looking forward to coming up with something for next year. 

Practical tip:  many thanks to April's (?) Parent's Magazing for showing me how to make these super-easy tissue paper flowers (I used crepe).  I made a garland out of some larger ones, then made small ones to attach to the goody "bags."  And thank you to Target and Michael's for these inexpensive and easy guest gifts.  Inside the metal pail was an orange pencil, a fat orange or turquoise floral pen, gummy fruit snacks, some fruit-flavored powder candy, and a pink or tuquoise butterfly-shaped lollipop.  Each one cost less than $3 to make. 

Enough of the heat of years past - I booked the park's pavilion for the morning so we could enjoy the shade and keep the food fresh.  But thanks to the previous night's storms, it was probably the most beautiful, dry, chilly (!), gorgeous morning ever.  The strong breeze brought the flower garland (below) down, but I just taped them to the posts.  All the flowers in the picture below were painted by me over the last few months.  The ones on the garland have both acrylic paint and glued-on bits of orange or turquoise string, craft paper, and construction paper.  Multi-media at its best.  :-)  The flowers stuck to the tablecloth were from a pack of blank flower stickers from Michael's, painted by me with acrylics.  If you've never used acrylic paint before, it's the best.  Easy to clean, dries quickly, gives you a nice, solid coverage on almost any surface, including cloth.  Oh, and you can buy it in about a million different colors at the craft store for @.89 each.

This photo was taken before I put all the food out, and was just trying to keep the tablecloth from blowing away.  Food wasn't terribly creative anyway.  Tortilla (gluten-free), potato and rice-cracker (also gluten-free) chips, salsa, goldfish, fruit salad, pizza... 

The first year we had the party at the playground, the Papa John's pizza place I ordered from told me they wouldn't deliver to a park.  I managed to convince them that they had to, and now, every time I call them and give them my cell number, they have the playground's address in their system associated with it.  No problems since!

I am so going to book the pavilion again next year.  There was another birthday party going on at the picnic tables below.  The mother of the birthday boy there told me I'd beaten her to it this year.  Whew!

While we ordered a regular cake from the supermarket, my mother made her totally delicious cupcakes, using orange and turquoise frosting.  They were beautiful!!!  And I made the cupcake toppers using packs of little orange and blue flowers from the dollar bins at Michael's, and gluing colored toothpicks to them. 

I will have more pics soon, I promise!

Explaining Death to Children

I've often pondered the concept of explaining death to Samantha.  She's got two things going against her - the fact that she's a young child, and the fact that she has an intellectual disability that makes understanding things, especially conceptual things that aren't tangible, much more difficult.  And I knew we would have to broach the subject sooner than later, with a 92-year-old great-grandmother with Alzheimer's, and, closer to her everyday life, a geriatric cat with multiple health issues. 

Gamie, my mother's mother, my grandmother, Sammi's great-grandmother, did pass away 2 months ago.  I didn't post about it then, as I didn't feel it was appropriate, but I mention it now because Samantha came to the funeral with us, but we didn't tell her where we were, or why we were there.  She wouldn't have understood, and we didn't want to upset her.  She had met Gamie numerous times, and I think she knew who she was, but I can't be sure.  I have to giggle, though, because between Gamie's Alzheimer's and Samantha's ID, I don't think either of them knew much more about each other than that each was a person the other had met in passing. 

But death remains a difficult idea to convey to a child.

Delilah, our geriatric, 3-legged cat with a raging thyroid issue, had to be put to sleep yesterday.  As I had posted previously, Samantha has become quite attached to the cats lately.  She tromps through the house on the hunt for them, calling them, searching under beds, behind doors.  She feeds them most nights.  She corners them and forces them to sit still as she pets and kisses them. 

When I got home from work yesterday evening, I knew it was time to say goodbye to Delilah.  Before putting her into the cat carrier so Steve could take her to the vet, I called Samantha over and let her pet and kiss her one more time, told her to say goodbye to her, and carefully explained that Delilah was very old and very sick, and that she would likely not be coming home with Daddy from the vet.  That when animals and people get very old and very sick, their bodies just stop working.  That the doctor would help her to go to sleep so she wouldn't wake up, but so she wouldn't feel sick anymore.  That she was going to heaven where she would be happy and have 4 legs again, and get to play with butterflies all day in the clouds. 

Sammi listened, and I'm not sure how much she got of it.  Sounding intrigued, like it was going to be a fun place to visit her, she said, "Really?  Delilah will be all better!" Actually,  her reaction was more like I'd just told her she was going to have a friend over for a playdate tomorrow.  But I do feel certain that she understood that Delilah wasn't coming back, and that she was in a better place. 

I told her that we were very sad, that it was okay to feel sad.  When she saw that I was crying, she put her arms around me, snuggled close, and said, "I love you mommy."  She knows.

Heaven is a tough concept, even for me.  The agnostic in me doesn't know if it exists, but likes the idea of heaven.  The mommy in me knows that it has to exist, that it's the right thing to say to my daughter, to help her understand.  We have to compromise our beliefs sometimes in the name of good parenting.  I'm not opposed to heaven as a concept Sammi grows up with believing - it's not necessarily a religious thing to me, but a coping mechanism, a way of putting things into perspective, and it's not something that's limited to children, like a belief in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.  Actually, as a coping mechanism is how I view religion in general (I'm not judging - I actually appreciate so much about it and know how much good it can do for some people!), but I certainly don't want to get into a theological discussion here.  Maybe one day, but not now.

I have to hand it to my husband.  I'm so grateful that he took Delilah lastnight.  It just wasn't appropriate for Samantha to go with us, and one of us needed to stay with her at home.  He spared me a very difficult task, and allowed me to have that talk with Samantha that I knew was coming.  Actually, I think that having gone through this with Delilah, it may be easier to explain to Samantha about Gamie.  The door has been opened, and I think she's learned something from this.    

For those of you who have been there already, what has worked for you in having this discussion with your child?