Analogies

I was going through my daughter's homework folder tonight and found one of those "extra" works that are sometimes sent by her braillest.   She prepares all work the students may be doing in the course of the school day, only sometimes they don't get to everything planned.  In this case, she had created tactile versions of two photocopied sheets on analogies that I'm guessing they didn't have time to cover.

I know I go on about this, but I am continually impressed with the work that's done for my daughter so she has a tactile version of everything the other students have.   When her teacher selects work the other students will be doing, it's picking from existing materials that have already been created.   She chooses sheets and they're photocopied for the class.  That's the extent of work that needs to be done for her sighted students.  The materials clearly introduce a topic, give examples and then there are questions or problems for the students to complete.  For my daughter, that same material must be converted into a tactile form—and that takes work.

When I saw the sheets on analogies, I was excited.   This is, perhaps, because I love math as does my daughter.  I knew she would love the work.   She read the explanation her braillest had copied into braille and then felt the first problem that had been completed as an example.   She got it immediately. There was a baggie with the answers prepared for her by her braillest.   She could select the correct answer and stick it to the page.   I didn't give her the answer pieces though, I had her tell me what the answers were.   She loved them and was disappointed when we'd gotten to the last one.

Here are the three sheets.  The first two pages are multiple-choice, with the answers shown on the line below the problem.  For the third page, I had her tell me what the answer would look like.  Her braillest used materials including foam, felt, stickers with texture and raised tape.



It's a joy to watch my daughter understanding a concept as she feels over the page with her fingers.   Her braillest created such a lovely representation of the assignment in tactile form.  Math, explained like this, is fun.

The Serious Parent Issues Evening:  My children were having a lot of fun this evening with lightsabers, wands, and spells.   They were galavanting around the house calling out casting curses at each other using items from both Harry Potter and Star Wars.  Plus, there was a broom in play.   Maybe it was a hexing broom, I missed that part.   They didn't want to settle down to go to bed and after I left the room they got in a row over the light my son uses to read after lights out.   I came up and told them if I had to come up one more time, I was going to be very cross indeed.  It only got worse and I had to go back up.   This morning there were similar issues with them not caring about getting ready on time, not listening to me telling them to do things like get their shoes on, brush their teeth or that breakfast was over even though they wanted to tarry longer at the table.    I was a calm parent all day, but they pushed it one too many times and I lost my temper at them.  Tomorrow, I told them, they were on their own.   If they didn't get ready in time, they would go to school without clothes, or breakfast or shoes, etc.  I was mad and I yelled at them, telling them that I was tired of being told I was "mean" because I was telling them things they didn't want to hear or do and that just because they didn't get to do everything they wanted when they wanted, I was not a mean parent.  As I turned to leave the room for the night, my son said, "mom, you have serious parenting issues."   He lost his entire week's allowance for the comment.   Lately, he's taken to taking jabs at people that are completely unacceptable.   He did this to my father earlier this week.   He's going to have a lot of consequences coming to him if he doesn't learn some respect.

Playing With Fire

I've been making candles the past two days in-between other things I've been doing.   I received several holiday gifts from family and friends that I'd put on my Amazon wish list and had everything I needed to make what I hoped would be simple candles.

It was fairly easy: melt the wax base, add color and scent, put a wick into a container and then pour.  That's simplifying it a bit, but that's basically all there is to it.   I wanted to get the process down so my daughter's and son could make candles as gifts or as a Y Guides craft.  

Food coloring won't work as it doesn't mix with the wax so I'd gotten some sprinkle dyes that were easy to add into small batches of melted wax.  I made a layered candle in just a few minutes by sticking it in the freezer while I mixed up the next color.   I also got some dried flowers I thought would look nice floating in the candles.



Tonight, while my children ate their dinner, I lit some of the candles and told them they were having a candlelight dinner.  My daughter was a bit afraid at first, which is a common reaction from her.   If there is something that could hurt her in any way, she's very cautious.  

My son was interested in the candle wax as it was melting and asked about the flame and why one was higher than another.  We talked about wicks and how a burning candle was a very interesting thing because solid wax doesn't burn, nor does liquid wax and it was the capillary action of the wick that pulled the liquid wax upwards and then with the heat of the existing flame, the wax turns into a gas, which only then will burn.   It's a self-perpetuating cycle that is started when the flame is initially lit.

I'm not sure my son was all that interested in the scientific explanation of how a candle works, but he was interested in the flame.  I came back later to find him having burned tiny pieces of the paper he was writing on that he'd stuck on a tine of his fork.

I could tell he was interested in the fire and wanted to experiment so I talked to him about burning things and how a fire could get out of control quickly.   We talked about what would and wouldn't burn.  I put the candle on a metal tray and got him a kebab skewer.  I told him to burn small pieces of the paper because if he put the whole sheet against the flame, it could all ignite, start to burn and then he'd have a proper fire on his hands—literally—and he could get burned and things around him could also be lit if he were to drop the lit paper.

I don't think he was thinking of any of that but having him think about implications before he tried something without thinking it through was my goal.   He had burned the end of my pen he told me sheepishly.

While I cleaned up, he tinkered around with the fire, cleaning up ashes with a very wet cloth.   The sizzling of the paper as it went out scared him and the task of cleaning up messy ashes was more of an incentive to stop than anything else. Hopefully, he learned something about fire and about the potential dangers of playing with it by being given the chance to experiment in a safe environment.

I remember playing with fire in the fireplace at home when I was a child.  Fire is magical in its own way.   It's also dangerous.   It only took a few times getting singed to give me a healthy fear of fire.

The Big Boy Update:  My son was picked up from school by Mimi today.   When they got home he asked her if she wanted to continue watching Star Wars: A New Hope.   They watched a bit more of the movie before she had to go.   He's really liking watching a movie with her.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  I don't know how well my daughter could see the candles at her dinner place tonight, but she was able to find them by holding her hand up higher and feeling for the heat.   Initially, she was scared, but she experimented and figured out she could hold her hand over the flame high up but it was too hot lower down.  A year ago, she would have been far too afraid to even get near the fire.

The Letter Game

My daughter loves to play verbal games.   As much as she likes music and to sing at the top of her lungs, she likes also to interact with the people around her by coordinating a game.   This typically starts with the statement, "let's play a game."

One of the first games she pioneered in our family was tic-tac-toe.   She realized there was no need to have some be X's and the other person be O's when what you were doing was picturing ownership of cells on the 3x3 board.   She also realized the playing area was the same as the numbers one through nine as ordered on a keypad.   She would say, "I'll keep track, you tell me which location you want."

We'd call out numbers, picturing in our mind which spaces we each owned until someone won or there was a tie.   Once we got used to the system, we could knock out a game of tic-tac-toe in less than half a minute.

My daughter loves word games the most I would venture to say.   There have been many over time but her latest one is the easiest to play, can accommodate any number of players, has no winner or loser, doesn't involve keeping track of scores and is simple while also challenging at the same time.   It's also a lot of fun.

The game is simple: pick a letter of the alphabet.   On your turn, say a word that starts with that letter.    Play passes in turn around the group.   There are two restrictions: you can't repeat a word and the plural of a word is considered the same word.   So, for instance, fish and fishing are two different words because one could be a noun while the other is a verb.

Typically everyone is trying to come up with something different and interesting.  We played with the letter W earlier today.  'Wigwam' was followed by 'wig' and then the next person called out 'wiggle.'  The fun is in trying to go as quickly as you can.   We all get stuck though.   There are an untold number of 'W' words including proper nouns like William and Walter and yet after a while, nothing is there, your brain is devoid of anything starting with 'W'.  When this happens the group just waits while you struggle to come up with a word.

While this happens, someone will invariably exclaim, "oh, I've got a good one!" while your mind is a complete blank.   During gameplay, it's common for the group to say, "nice one" when someone comes up with an uncommon word.   The game continues until we arrive at our destination (we do this in the car a lot) or the group has had enough of that letter.  It's a friendly game with people being willing to help each other out if they're stuck by giving them a word.  We're getting good at this new game.   Soon, we're planning on even tackling the letter Q.

The Big Boy Update:  My son has been very into Star Wars after his recent Disney trip.  He spent a few hours after school with my mother yesterday and when I got home I saw them sitting on the couch, my son's lightsaber in hand, and the very first released movie in the series, Star Wars—because back then, then no one called it Star Wars: A New Hope.   He doesn't have screen time after school but he wanted to see if Mimi remembered the movie.   I got sucked in when I got home, standing in the living room, unable to walk away.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter threw up yesterday when we got home play therapy with Dhruti.   She vomited twice within an hour, all of which seemed to be her lunch school salad that was not digesting well.   Today she was home all day ut agreed with me that she hadn't been sick, the food disagreed with her. Her complete lack of temperature and the fact that she felt back to normal once she had gotten the food out of her and we decided she was back to school tomorrow.   She got to lounge around in pajamas all day though, which was fun.

The Pushing Game

We have children running in and out of our house all the time.   We're fortunate to live on a street with a good number of children close in age to my son and daughter.  Some parents want their children to play outside during good weather and some would prefer no screen-based activities.   But on the whole, all the parents on the street are of similar mind which makes it nice for both the parents and the children.

We have other children here at our house more than we have our children at other homes.   We get to see a lot of the social dynamics and have watched as they've developed from pre-verbal, crawling on the floor state to today's complex gameplay, negotiating and conflict.

I don't think any of the children that know my daughter well are unkind to her because she can't see.   Yes, they can take advantage of her lack of sight, but for the most part they all seem to treat her as an equal where possible and provide accommodations where needed.   Sometimes this is hard for my daughter because there is a game she wants to play and simply can't because she would need sight to play.  The other children aren't trying to exclude my daughter because they don't like her, but it's hard for them to explain it without hurting her feelings.

Or at least that's what I've seen in many cases.  Sometimes my daughter can annoy her friends.   She can be incorrigible, stubborn and strong-willed and her personality can clash badly.   And then there are times when the children play together well, no one is crying, no one has been hurt and we don't have to intervene to make sure things are safe.

Yesterday I saw something from the window of my bedroom that was happening on the trampoline that alarmed me.   Two boys my daughter doesn't play with that often were on the trampoline with her.   My son had come inside and what I saw was the two boys running away from her and then, when she got close to them, they would shove her.  

She would go down but would get back up again, put her arms out and try to find them once more.   What was going on?   This seemed wrong.   They were moving away from her, knowing she couldn't see them.   She wanted to catch them, or grab them or something—perhaps in anger, but when she got close they pushed her over.

And yet my daughter was smiling and laughing.   As I was going to check on her to see if she was okay, I saw my son in the living room and asked him about it.   He said, "They're playing the pushing game.  She loves it."  And so she did.  She came inside happy.

The Big Boy Update:  This morning I yelled up to my son to get dressed and come down.  I had called him down twice before.  He groggily called out, "I'm sorry, Mom.  I dreamed I was getting dressed."   When we got in the car he told me the dream had gone all the way through getting to school before he woke up and found himself still in bed.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  On the way home from school my daughter said, "I miss swearing."   She said she knew she couldn't say the words out loud, but she was saying them in her head.  

Three Thousand

I've been looking at the number of total posts to this blog more frequently recently because I've been approaching three thousand posts and it seemed like some sort of a milestone.  Maybe it makes more sense to do a first post date anniversary, which would have been eight years this past December.  The total post count I see on the left side of Blogger every time I finish writing one of these little entries kept my attention more though.

And then, after preparing for it, I completely forgot and the three thousandth post past me by last week.   It's still hard for me to believe that for close to a sixth of my life I've been writing something here every day.   It seems like it wasn't that long ago that I started.   It also seems like I've been writing for as long as I can remember.  

Blogger has made writing online easy for over eight years.   I hope I'm still here eight years from now, celebrating six thousand posts.

The Big Boy Update:  My son has this personal space thing that has been getting him in trouble a lot lately.   He touches people (his sister most notably) when they don't want to be touched, in ways they don't want to be touched.   His sister pretty much never wants to have a lightsaber jabbed into any part of her body, she doesn't want her witch's hat jerked off her head and then smashed back onto it.   She doesn't want him coming up and doing anything to her, basically.   He does this with other people, mostly getting in their face and yelling like he's a caveman or something equally energetic and unidentifiable.  People don't like it.   We've been telling him it's called assault when you touch people (or punch them in the stomach) and it's stealing when you take their property—even if you planned to give it back when you wanted to at some point in the future.   He's not getting it.   I don't get it, there has to be something going on that would explain it.  

The Swearing Girl Chronicles:  My daughter had a splinter in her foot tonight.  It was one of those that went straight in and was sharp and sensitive to try and get out.   I was doing my best delicate work but it was still taking a long time and my daughter kept pulling away and crying in pain.   She said she wished she were old enough to swear.   I told her there was scientific evidence that swearing actually helped people cope with pain (truly, I just saw a lecturer at The Royal Institution speak about ongoing research in this area.)  I told her in this case, I thought it would be okay if she swore.   She wasn't sure, saying she didn't want to get in trouble.   I told her she had my permission, but to stop when her brother came upstairs.   So she swore.  It was all I could do not to laugh.   She knows all the words, as evidenced by the variety she used.   She didn't quite put them together in the typical order they're usually heard in, which made it all the more funny.   Once she got started, she didn't want to stop.   She was having a great time swearing and was much more relaxed about me digging into her foot to get the very embedded splinter.   Her father called right as we had finished and she showed off her newfound vocabulary to him right after saying hello.   He laughed and I had to explain the circumstances.   Then her brother came in and we were back to age-level appropriate words.

The Truth Comes Out

My husband was packing to leave for a week skiing this morning when I headed off with the children to Aditi's birthday party.  Aditi is my daughter's close friend and the other VI student in her class.  They've known each other for three years now and have become quite close.   So I was surprised when my daughter started saying how she didn't want to go to the party on the ride.

She had multiple reasons, but the main one was that she didn't like bowling.   She's bowled before with her father, brother, and me and had what I thought was an enjoyable time.   We had the bumpers pulled up, she got to pick her bowling ball from the collection on the rack, and we used that little ramp thing to let her roll her ball down the lane without having the need to swing and release the ball.  I reminded her of this, but it didn't make any difference, she didn't like bowling, and that was that.

We told her there was suppose to be an arcade at the location, but she didn't want to play games.   She was unhappy and became more so as I pressed her, saying when Aditi came to her party, she was polite and did all our activities without complaining.   My daughter said that it was because she liked what we did at her party.  It was getting fairly bad, with my daughter being negative about everything associated with the party.   She didn't want to see Aditi or eat food or do anything.

I became firm, telling her I was disappointed in her that this was a party to celebrate Aditi's birthday, not a time to be selfish and complain that it wasn't something you wanted to do.   After some more defiant and negative comments from her, I said with that attitude she could stay in the car, and her brother and I would go in, and I would explain to Aditi's mother that she wasn't going to be able to come in.  

I was hoping to turn her attitude around.  It wasn't working.   It upset her brother.   He said he was staying in the car too if she couldn't go in.   I told him he wasn't helping, that he was supporting her poor behavior in not wanting to go in.   He got pretty upset and screamed at me to stop being mean to his sister (which was super sweet to see him be so protective of her.)

He asked if she could please come inside to the party.  I told him she absolutely could, and I hoped she would, but she wasn't saying anything about changing her attitude.   That was all she needed to do—to tell me she would participate, without complaint, bowling, and anything else that happened at the party.   My son asked her to please come in to the party.   She remained silent.  My son said, "I think I know why you don't want to bowl.  It's because you're worried you won't be good at it and don't want to be embarrassed."

And that's when we got the real reason.   My daughter said, "no, it's not that."  He asked her what was it then?  she said, "The truth is, I'm afraid of bowling."  I was floored.   She put up a huge fight, got in trouble, and was willing to miss the party and sit in the car, all because she was scared to go bowling and didn't want to tell me.

Now that I knew, it all made sense.   We asked my daughter what she was scared of.   She didn't want to fall down.  I vaguely remember her walking on to the lane at one point the last time we went bowling and slipped, falling because the lane itself is very oily.  It's hard to see the oil if you don't know it's there, but right over the foul line, the wood is covered with oil, so the bowling balls slide and roll more easily.

I talked to her, saying I would be with her, and I would make sure she didn't get close to the edge of the lane and would help her bowl all her balls.   We told her no one needed to know she was scared, and we'd make sure together that she had a good time.   She agreed, and that was that with the bad attitude, it was gone as if it had never been there.  It was all fear.

My daughter did very well bowling, getting a spare on the first frame, closing the first frame of anyone at the party.  All the cheering for her did a lot for her self-confidence.   She was doing so well she was a contender for first place on her lane.  She ended up third out of seven with only a few pins from taking first place.

She had a good time the whole party after finding out her classmates and good friends were there.   She is well-liked at school and supported positively by the other students, not treated as though she has a disability.   It's nice to see the other students and parents treat her as though she's just another child in the group.

My son had a great time.   He can jump into a crowd of children he's never met before and make instant friends.   He's more easy going around newly met friends.   All three of us enjoyed the party and the friends we celebrated with.

The Big Boy Update: After bowling today, we all went to the arcade where we had game cards that were open play for an hour.   My son and I started playing a zombie killing game with machine guns. He and I were doing well as a team, beating back hoards of zombie alien monsters.  During downtimes and cut scenes, I would swipe the card again, building up credits for our regular demise and the large "Continue?" message that would pop up on the screen when we'd run out of health.   My son's arms must have gotten tired holding the large gun because he wanted to quit after playing through four chapters.   We left the game with ten credits on it, handing the weapons over to two boys who'd been watching us and waiting for a turn.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  We got home today and as is typical, were greeted by the dog.   When our dog greets us, she goes into a near frenzy of joyous energy.   My daughter, upon grabbing the dog said, "can you handle all this happiness?"

Turns and Jurisdictions

I have a truly remarkable man as a husband.   I have joked many a time saying I don't know why he puts up with me.  He is of the most even temperament, managing the children with a calm demeanor while I'm losing my temper and using a colorful array of four-letter words.  He is of the, "never mind" mentality, meaning he never minds doing something and never complains.

I am forever worrying that I'm not pulling my weight, doing my share, making even all the things that are required in managing the household, our children and our lives.   Sometimes I reflect on the things we each contribute and when I think of all he does, I question if my contributions are equivalent in weight.

In a marriage, things tend to divide out into jurisdictions or alternately in turns.  For example, taking out the trash is my husband's jurisdiction.   He's good at it and I'm glad he likes the job of wedging all the recycling into the bin for recycling day.   I'm responsible for coordinating sitters.   He does the taxes and I tally and document all medical expenses for him to add into the taxes.   I manage the children's clothing, changing with the seasons, retiring worn out or too small items and getting new clothes when needed.   He cooks meals.  

These things we've gravitated into because we prefer to do them over other things.   I would rather do my jobs than his and he feels the same about my jobs.   Some things we take it in turn to do.   We both grocery shop.   It doesn't matter who goes, we both can get the job done as well as the other person.  We can both ger the children wrangled into bed ("wrangled" being the word to best describe the forceful encouragement needed to get to reticent children to go to sleep each night.). The dishes get put into the dishwasher and put away clean by whoever gets there first (or possibly last).

We get it all done.  Sometimes though, I don't feel like I'm doing as much as I should.   And since my husband never, ever complains, how am I to know?  We each take time to do our own things, to get away from family life and have some fun without having to be the parent constantly on the job.

Tomorrow, my husband leaves for a week of skiing with my best friend's family and some of their friends.   A few years ago we all went as a family.   It was fun but wasn't something we wanted to do every year.  My husband, on the other hand, could go skiing multiple times each year.  He told me tonight he felt guilty leaving tomorrow.   Hs came after a bout of whining on my part about being tired and wanting to go to sleep and he was downstairs, watching a second movie without movie night friends while I was upstairs, still managing things—something I'd been doing for several hours.

He shouldn't feel guilty for leaving; this was a good thing.  He was going to have fun.  We would be fine here and we were all glad he was going on the trip.   I suppose I'm not alone in worrying I don't do enough all the time.  I still think he does more than I do.   I'm glad he's getting away for the week.

The Big Boy Update:  My som has continued to change the color of his lightsaber multiple times per hour.   He did so during breakfast when he got home and just before singing the happy birthday song for our friend tonight.   The cake was lit only with candles and his purple lightsaber.

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter is fine after the car accident yesterday in her cab (minivan).   Her driver is eight months pregnant and is fine as well.  This morning I asked her if she wanted to go to the chiropractor again, that if she was in pain in her neck or back, we could go.   Typically she would say no, but this morning, she said yes.   She was doing well, the chiropractor said.   I think, after asking her some questions, that she said yes because she wanted to have me drive her to school instead of going in the cab.  She had a new driver this afternoon.  She liked this driver a lot.  Perhaps she'll have her next week until her regular driver's school transportation vehicle is repaired or a replacement is found.