I've been a bit obsessed with the Rubiks Cube my daughter got from her uncles this Christmas. So much so that I ordered a competition cube for me as well as the lubrication oil of a very specific viscosity needed to lubricate said competition cube.
The new cube arrived and it moved much more freely than my daughter's tactile cube, which is saying a lot, because her cube moves quite well. When I got the lubricant I took the cube apart completely, including the screws and washers and followed an exhaustive list of spots needing lubrication before reassembling the cube.
The next thing I had to do was tension the cube appropriately. This is to taste, but considering I have no experience in speed solving (or really solving at all) I was at a bit of a loss for a while, tightening here and there until I got a feel for what was too loose and what was just right. I think I have it about right now.
I've been taking both my cube and my daughter's cube in my purse all over the place for when I have a spare moment. I learned the basic algorithms for solving the cube. The "beginner" ones that go in a certain order without taking into account any specifics of the scramble. There are lots of shortcuts, requiring memorizing lots of additional algorithms.
I watched one video that said, "you should be able to solve the cube in under a minute-and-a-half before starting to learn these moves." Well heck, I'd only solved it a handful of times without messing up at some point, having to backtrack and redo steps before successfully returning the cube to its original state. I'd never timed myself. I'm not sure I was solving the cube in under ten minutes.
But I understand more now why he might say that. The more solves I do, the better an understanding I'm getting of how the pieces move relative to how you're rotating parts of the cube. Even so, when I look at the long list of shortcut algorithms and try to match them to the various scenarios I encounter in my scrambles, well, I mostly go back to the basic method.
I've had lots of people interested when they see me working on the Rubiks Cube. I've had both cubes at two parties and adults see them and light up, recounting stories from when they were younger. People love the tactile cube that's my daughter's. I've shown people tips and they've tried to remember how they solved the cube from years past—some successful and some not.
Today, my husband took one of the cubes and started moving it around. He asked what the process was and I took him through the first part before he had to take a phone call. Later, we came back and I helped him solve it for the first time. Tonight, I showed him again and he successfully solved it two more times. I know him, he memorizes things quickly. He's very good with anything physical. Right now, my best time is 2:17 to solve the cube, and that was with a lucky scramble that saved me several steps. I'm betting by next week he'll be killing my best times.
The Big Boy Update: My son came downstairs saying he'd had a nightmare—about seven minutes after he went to bed. This is his typical nightmare of the "I can't get to sleep and want to spend time with you" sort. Tonight he got on the bed, asked my husband and me to move over so he could fit in between us, and watched me teaching his father how to solve the Rubiks Cube. He took over mine and worked on the first layer with my help until we sent him back to bed. It would be fun if he got interested in solving the entire cube. For now, he's more interested in moving the pieces around to see what he can figure out.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: After a doctor's appointment yesterday, my daughter wanted to know if she could go spend a little of her money at a store. I agreed and we talked about how much money she might want to spend and if she wanted to buy things for her, the dog or her friends. She ended up getting several things, one of which was from a selection of $5 perfumes. She smelled over twenty testers until she finally settled on "Mysterious Beach." Then this morning one of those moments happen when you're a parent of a blind child. Sometimes your child will say something to you that shows just how much they don't know that we take for granted. She came to me and asked if she could have a small paintbrush. I asked her what she needed it for. She told me it was for the fingernail polish she'd selected the day before—polish that she'll never see the color of. She didn't even know there was a brush included in the tops of all bottles. She was happy when I told her about it and interested when I showed her how it worked. There was no way other than to let her feel the stalk and brush, getting polish all over her fingers. But now she knows.
Tuesday, January 7, 2020
Monday, January 6, 2020
Master Carpet
We've had the hardwood floors in our master bedroom for almost a month now. I am very pleased we decided to have them put in. The transition from the hallway into the bedroom had to be redone so the threshold had continuous wood planks coming in at the different lengths, standard to hardwood floor installations.
Martin, who did our original floors and updated our master last month, did such a good job you can't tell where the old boards end and the new ones begin. You can't tell any difference from the floors in the other areas to the new floors in the master bedroom. It's beautiful and I love it.
There is a different feeling in the room now. It feels cooler and yet warmer at the same time. We have a natural finish, meaning there is no color added to the floors in the polyurethane. It has a warm, dark honey look and feels welcoming while at the same time having an air of organized cleanliness.
I made some changes in the room that have been long overdue. Since moving here when my son was one week old, we've had a laundry basket at the side of the long dresser. This was ideal initially as we had the changing station for my son and then my daughter on that dresser. We'd pull off the soiled onesie and drop it straight into the basket without ever having to take our hand off the squirming child.
But that was some years ago and it was high time for the laundry basket to move into the closet. My children resisted the change with loud complaints. At the end of each day, they change into pajamas, which we keep in a drawer in our bedroom. It was easy for them to put their day clothes into the basket in our room but an unreasonable request (so they claimed) to have to walk to the closet instead—even though they were getting in the tub just adjacent to the closet.
I held firm and told them I realized it was wholly unreasonable for us to ask them to take the extra ten steps to the new location, but sadly (for them), the basket wasn't coming back. They adjusted. It took all of three days and the complaints stopped.
The other update was a stylish trash can. A friend mentioned the utilitarian black plastic trash can and how it didn't seem fitting in our bedroom. But it was large and, well, I didn't really have any other comment about it because when we moved in it was available and I'd just stuck it there, not thinking much about style, only functionality.
It was a good point though, so I ordered brushed stainless steel fashionable trash can that had a good bit less in the way storage but sported a higher degree of style. I see it as I sit here in my "office" while I type these blog posts, read my daughter's braille homework and check email. I like it.
There have been multiple discussions about what carpet to add to the room. Where the carpet would be, what size and if there would be more than one carpet such as one on either side of the bed. In the absence of any clear decision, we have gone with hardwood only in the room. And it's turned out that's what we like. Which makes things easy. I like no carpet. Hardwoods coupled with the Roomba that was my Christmas present and love the clean feeling smooth hardwoods under my feet.
As we thought about the carpet I remembered my parent's house as a child. At one point (I believe, I was young) they decided to remove the carpet from their bedroom and redo the hardwoods underneath. When they had them refinished they decided to get an oriental rug to put in the room. I was a bit baffled because the rug was about the size of the room, leaving only the edges of the hardwoods visible. The room looked lovely, but as a child, I didn't understand why they did all that work only to have almost the same result end the end. Today, as an adult, I can understand.
They Were So Sorry For Me: I made a mistake today. I knew my schedule for the day in the morning but I forgot mid-day as we talked about going to see Frozen II again as a family. We were all excited until I suddenly realized I had a steroid injection in my spine right slam in the middle of the movie. I was very disappointed. It was the last day of the holiday break for my son and the last day we could go to the movie together. My husband had even bought me a ticket. I was disappointed. My children both told me more than once they were so sorry I couldn't go. They wished I could go and were sad I wasn't going to be able to join them. They were very sweet about it.
Martin, who did our original floors and updated our master last month, did such a good job you can't tell where the old boards end and the new ones begin. You can't tell any difference from the floors in the other areas to the new floors in the master bedroom. It's beautiful and I love it.
There is a different feeling in the room now. It feels cooler and yet warmer at the same time. We have a natural finish, meaning there is no color added to the floors in the polyurethane. It has a warm, dark honey look and feels welcoming while at the same time having an air of organized cleanliness.
I made some changes in the room that have been long overdue. Since moving here when my son was one week old, we've had a laundry basket at the side of the long dresser. This was ideal initially as we had the changing station for my son and then my daughter on that dresser. We'd pull off the soiled onesie and drop it straight into the basket without ever having to take our hand off the squirming child.
But that was some years ago and it was high time for the laundry basket to move into the closet. My children resisted the change with loud complaints. At the end of each day, they change into pajamas, which we keep in a drawer in our bedroom. It was easy for them to put their day clothes into the basket in our room but an unreasonable request (so they claimed) to have to walk to the closet instead—even though they were getting in the tub just adjacent to the closet.
I held firm and told them I realized it was wholly unreasonable for us to ask them to take the extra ten steps to the new location, but sadly (for them), the basket wasn't coming back. They adjusted. It took all of three days and the complaints stopped.
The other update was a stylish trash can. A friend mentioned the utilitarian black plastic trash can and how it didn't seem fitting in our bedroom. But it was large and, well, I didn't really have any other comment about it because when we moved in it was available and I'd just stuck it there, not thinking much about style, only functionality.
It was a good point though, so I ordered brushed stainless steel fashionable trash can that had a good bit less in the way storage but sported a higher degree of style. I see it as I sit here in my "office" while I type these blog posts, read my daughter's braille homework and check email. I like it.
There have been multiple discussions about what carpet to add to the room. Where the carpet would be, what size and if there would be more than one carpet such as one on either side of the bed. In the absence of any clear decision, we have gone with hardwood only in the room. And it's turned out that's what we like. Which makes things easy. I like no carpet. Hardwoods coupled with the Roomba that was my Christmas present and love the clean feeling smooth hardwoods under my feet.
As we thought about the carpet I remembered my parent's house as a child. At one point (I believe, I was young) they decided to remove the carpet from their bedroom and redo the hardwoods underneath. When they had them refinished they decided to get an oriental rug to put in the room. I was a bit baffled because the rug was about the size of the room, leaving only the edges of the hardwoods visible. The room looked lovely, but as a child, I didn't understand why they did all that work only to have almost the same result end the end. Today, as an adult, I can understand.
They Were So Sorry For Me: I made a mistake today. I knew my schedule for the day in the morning but I forgot mid-day as we talked about going to see Frozen II again as a family. We were all excited until I suddenly realized I had a steroid injection in my spine right slam in the middle of the movie. I was very disappointed. It was the last day of the holiday break for my son and the last day we could go to the movie together. My husband had even bought me a ticket. I was disappointed. My children both told me more than once they were so sorry I couldn't go. They wished I could go and were sad I wasn't going to be able to join them. They were very sweet about it.
Sunday, January 5, 2020
Pavlovian Response
My son was wanting to earn some screen time this afternoon and the dog was wanting to burn some energy. I could tell, because every time I went outside to see if she wanted to come in, she would grab the long stick I'd gotten for her earlier in the day from the far back yard and get in the play crouch.
I offered a trade to my son: play fetch with the dog for screen time. He wasn't sure but decided to try it. I put the dog's training collar on and met him outside. I took the dog off her runner chain and got a tennis ball. My daughter joined us with her fuzzy crocks from Nana and heavy winter coat and pulled the hood up, putting her hair in more disarray than it already was.
I told them both, very firmly, that no matter how much the dog might want them to throw the stick, they must never, ever do so. I explained that she anticipated where they might throw and that she could easily get hit in the face by a rapidly moving and spinning stick. They could play tug with the stick all they wanted with her, however.
I demonstrated to my son how to throw the ball and then call the dog back. With me, since I've been doing this for a while, she fetches the ball, comes towards me and drops it in front of me for the next throw. This is something that has to be learned though. By default, they want you to grab for the ball and then wrestle to gain control of it. If you can get the ball, that is. There is a lot of keep-a-way behavior as well. You have to teach the dog that the only way you're going to interact with the ball and throw it again is if they drop it in front of you.
At this point, Matisse comes to me and drops the ball. But that's with me. I wanted to have my son elicit the same behavior with her. My son had an idea which I loved: he got his tennis racket and was hitting the ball with it for longer distance. He and I worked for a bit and made progress on her coming to him and dropping the ball. We still have work to do though.
I used the training collar twice, hoping it would give her clarity on coming to him instead of me after getting the ball. It turned out just having him say, "come!" in a firm voice was a better way to give her guidance.
While I was out there I noticed the collar was in a strange state. I had the controller with me and when the dog came inside after playing with my son I called her to me and took off the collar. I was sitting on the bed with the manual, trying to figure out how I'd gotten it into a different mode. I pressed the soft, rubber button with the collar sitting on my lap. When that didn't work I changed to another setting and pressed the button again.
Suddenly the dog was beside me on the bed. When I pressed the button again she was almost on top of me, leaning into me. Then I realized, she could hear the very light sound of the button being pushed. There was no vibration happening on the collar as it was set to zero. She was trying to comply though, even without the collar on or any command being given. After a third time and another setting test, I gave up and turned the unit off because even though she didn't have the collar on, she thought what I was doing was meant for her.
The Big Boy Update: My son said he was working on an art project that was a surprise for us. A bit later he came downstairs with the bottom of a small paper cup taped over his eye—with a pencil extending directly from the center. He had mock impaled himself. We took a picture of it it looked so realistic. Then we told him to walk carefully with it on until he got to his desk to take it off. I have no idea where he got the idea. Can I use the, "he's a boy" excuse this time? He was so pleased with his creativity.
The TIny Girl Chronicles: My daughter wanted to play fetch this afternoon too. I had her throw the ball a time or two but explained this was something I'd asked her brother to do and it wasn't her turn. I said I would show her how to play fetch with Matisse tomorrow, but that her brother had the job for now and she would have to wait. She got very upset, went inside crying and when I came in said, "leave me alone, I don't want to talk to anyone." She disappeared into her room to listen to an audiobook. I'm going to try and teache her tomorrow. Sometimes it's hard to wait your turn.
I offered a trade to my son: play fetch with the dog for screen time. He wasn't sure but decided to try it. I put the dog's training collar on and met him outside. I took the dog off her runner chain and got a tennis ball. My daughter joined us with her fuzzy crocks from Nana and heavy winter coat and pulled the hood up, putting her hair in more disarray than it already was.
I told them both, very firmly, that no matter how much the dog might want them to throw the stick, they must never, ever do so. I explained that she anticipated where they might throw and that she could easily get hit in the face by a rapidly moving and spinning stick. They could play tug with the stick all they wanted with her, however.
I demonstrated to my son how to throw the ball and then call the dog back. With me, since I've been doing this for a while, she fetches the ball, comes towards me and drops it in front of me for the next throw. This is something that has to be learned though. By default, they want you to grab for the ball and then wrestle to gain control of it. If you can get the ball, that is. There is a lot of keep-a-way behavior as well. You have to teach the dog that the only way you're going to interact with the ball and throw it again is if they drop it in front of you.
At this point, Matisse comes to me and drops the ball. But that's with me. I wanted to have my son elicit the same behavior with her. My son had an idea which I loved: he got his tennis racket and was hitting the ball with it for longer distance. He and I worked for a bit and made progress on her coming to him and dropping the ball. We still have work to do though.
I used the training collar twice, hoping it would give her clarity on coming to him instead of me after getting the ball. It turned out just having him say, "come!" in a firm voice was a better way to give her guidance.
While I was out there I noticed the collar was in a strange state. I had the controller with me and when the dog came inside after playing with my son I called her to me and took off the collar. I was sitting on the bed with the manual, trying to figure out how I'd gotten it into a different mode. I pressed the soft, rubber button with the collar sitting on my lap. When that didn't work I changed to another setting and pressed the button again.
Suddenly the dog was beside me on the bed. When I pressed the button again she was almost on top of me, leaning into me. Then I realized, she could hear the very light sound of the button being pushed. There was no vibration happening on the collar as it was set to zero. She was trying to comply though, even without the collar on or any command being given. After a third time and another setting test, I gave up and turned the unit off because even though she didn't have the collar on, she thought what I was doing was meant for her.
The Big Boy Update: My son said he was working on an art project that was a surprise for us. A bit later he came downstairs with the bottom of a small paper cup taped over his eye—with a pencil extending directly from the center. He had mock impaled himself. We took a picture of it it looked so realistic. Then we told him to walk carefully with it on until he got to his desk to take it off. I have no idea where he got the idea. Can I use the, "he's a boy" excuse this time? He was so pleased with his creativity.
The TIny Girl Chronicles: My daughter wanted to play fetch this afternoon too. I had her throw the ball a time or two but explained this was something I'd asked her brother to do and it wasn't her turn. I said I would show her how to play fetch with Matisse tomorrow, but that her brother had the job for now and she would have to wait. She got very upset, went inside crying and when I came in said, "leave me alone, I don't want to talk to anyone." She disappeared into her room to listen to an audiobook. I'm going to try and teache her tomorrow. Sometimes it's hard to wait your turn.
Saturday, January 4, 2020
Pull My Finger
My husband and I went to a White Elephant/Dirty Santy/Post Holiday party tonight. We've been in years past and it's nice to see some of the friends we only see once per year or so at this gathering. The party was in January but held the same function as if it had been before Christmas with the added advantage of being able to regift something you got that you didn't want or need.
The guidelines for the gifts are very flexible as over the years different themes and gift types have appeared. It's a friendly bunch that attends and no one ever leaves angry because they didn't get a particular item.
This year the first gift was a game for children four years and older, called "Pull My Finger". It featured a monkey with his butt sticking out. You spun and pulled the monkey's finger however many times the spinner indicated. At some point, the monkey would have had his finger pulled too many times and then would release all the air added into his butt (which had inflated every time his finger was pulled) making a farting noise.
Clearly, this was the present I needed to win to take home to my children. As it turned out, I was second to last, executed a steal and the game is sitting on the bookshelf for the morning. My husband wasn't so sure it was the best choice. I stand firm in my decision, we'll see if the children share my enthusiasm tomorrow.
The Big Boy Update: My son and I made candles the other day. I got candle making supplies for Christmas and have been looking forward to making them but have been otherwise occupied with getting the house in order again and other events, visitors, and other distractions until the other day. He and I had a very easy time melting some of the wax in a double boiler, adding scents, preparing wicks and then pouring the melted wax. He had an idea to add needles from the Christmas tree into the one we added wintergreen and peppermint oils to. It looked very nice when it had hardened.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter doesn't like for things to end or die. At the Santa Claus event at our clubhouse, Mrs. Claus had made her a Rudolph balloon. I told her it wouldn't last forever, but when it eventually deflated she was beside herself. She held onto the little limp balloon and said, "Even when you die, you won’t be gone because you'll be in my heart. Don’t worry Rudolph, you’ll be back to normal soon. I love you. Mrs. Claus will bring you back to life next year."
The guidelines for the gifts are very flexible as over the years different themes and gift types have appeared. It's a friendly bunch that attends and no one ever leaves angry because they didn't get a particular item.
This year the first gift was a game for children four years and older, called "Pull My Finger". It featured a monkey with his butt sticking out. You spun and pulled the monkey's finger however many times the spinner indicated. At some point, the monkey would have had his finger pulled too many times and then would release all the air added into his butt (which had inflated every time his finger was pulled) making a farting noise.
Clearly, this was the present I needed to win to take home to my children. As it turned out, I was second to last, executed a steal and the game is sitting on the bookshelf for the morning. My husband wasn't so sure it was the best choice. I stand firm in my decision, we'll see if the children share my enthusiasm tomorrow.
The Big Boy Update: My son and I made candles the other day. I got candle making supplies for Christmas and have been looking forward to making them but have been otherwise occupied with getting the house in order again and other events, visitors, and other distractions until the other day. He and I had a very easy time melting some of the wax in a double boiler, adding scents, preparing wicks and then pouring the melted wax. He had an idea to add needles from the Christmas tree into the one we added wintergreen and peppermint oils to. It looked very nice when it had hardened.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter doesn't like for things to end or die. At the Santa Claus event at our clubhouse, Mrs. Claus had made her a Rudolph balloon. I told her it wouldn't last forever, but when it eventually deflated she was beside herself. She held onto the little limp balloon and said, "Even when you die, you won’t be gone because you'll be in my heart. Don’t worry Rudolph, you’ll be back to normal soon. I love you. Mrs. Claus will bring you back to life next year."
Friday, January 3, 2020
Mini Tramp
We swapped presents tonight with Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Margaret. They arrived with a huge present they later revealed was for my daughter. She was so excited. My son got some gaming money for Fortnite, which he is already planning on how to spend. The present for my daughter turned out to be what she had wanted Santa to bring her early last month—a mini-trampoline.
It was an advanced model that didn't need to be put together, only snapped open and popped into place. We put a standing handle on it which let them hold on and jump at the same time. And yes, we have a big trampoline outside, but the mini one serves a whole different need. My daughter was doing flips with the handle and jumping in-between. My son was doing high bounces with it with his lightsabers, also from Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Margaret.
It was a good night. I ate too much. They brought us a panoply of food from P. F. Chang's. I ate it all. We had a good time catching up. I was glad for a break from the cleaning and organizing and putting up holiday items. I'd been working for six hours straight when they arrived. I'm now going to bed and expect to fall straight to sleep.
The Big Boy Update: My son was so excited about the Fortnite in-game currency he got as a present. He really wanted to play with Uncle Jonathan and offered to give him some when he played with him next. His other gift was a day of gaming together. When he got that present, he said it was the best present he could have gotten.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Would it surprise any adult out there to know my daughter was almost more excited with the large box the trampoline came in than the trampoline itself? She carried it up and down the stairs and spent time inside it, being sent as a package and hidden/found. So very typical of children and boxes.
It was an advanced model that didn't need to be put together, only snapped open and popped into place. We put a standing handle on it which let them hold on and jump at the same time. And yes, we have a big trampoline outside, but the mini one serves a whole different need. My daughter was doing flips with the handle and jumping in-between. My son was doing high bounces with it with his lightsabers, also from Uncle Jonathan and Aunt Margaret.
It was a good night. I ate too much. They brought us a panoply of food from P. F. Chang's. I ate it all. We had a good time catching up. I was glad for a break from the cleaning and organizing and putting up holiday items. I'd been working for six hours straight when they arrived. I'm now going to bed and expect to fall straight to sleep.
The Big Boy Update: My son was so excited about the Fortnite in-game currency he got as a present. He really wanted to play with Uncle Jonathan and offered to give him some when he played with him next. His other gift was a day of gaming together. When he got that present, he said it was the best present he could have gotten.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Would it surprise any adult out there to know my daughter was almost more excited with the large box the trampoline came in than the trampoline itself? She carried it up and down the stairs and spent time inside it, being sent as a package and hidden/found. So very typical of children and boxes.
Thursday, January 2, 2020
After Three Days
My daughter had a rough day the other day and had a total of four consequences as a result. Tomorrow my daughter will be able to jump on the trampoline if no one else is around. The following day she will be invited back to jump whenever, provided the does her final portion of her consequence—writing apology letters.
For three days my daughter insisted she wasn't going to write the notes—ever. Also, she also held firmly to the position she hadn't done anything wrong or had lied. In addition, she had been maligned by everyone else and ganged up on. She was accepting zero responsibility for her actions, even though others had admitted they had done things too. She said she didn't do any of the things they were saying she did.
Today we had a few ups and downs. At one point I got fed up with her behavior and said I was done for the day and I didn't want to have anything to do with her and her lousy attitude. And I meant it. I tried to avoid her for the next several hours. I think something got through to her at that point. It had been days of her trying things, things she knew we weren't going to put up with. Things would escalate and then we would try calm, reasonable, praising behavior and she'd figuratively spit in our faces. This morning I'd had enough. I was done trying for a while.
Something must have clicked. I don't know if it was the culmination of things or the last straw but about an hour later she had hurt herself and I responded minimally, making sure this bump or bruise wasn't bad and then I ignored her. As she walked out of the room she said, "I think I'm going to write my apology notes now."
And so she did. It didn't take her long, she's a fast typist. Just as I could write this blog post far more quickly than I could longhand, she can get her thoughts down as fast as she can type—and her mind moves quickly. Not ten minutes later she was downstairs with five notes written.
I had expected her to write, "Dear X, I'm sorry." and expect that to be enough, only she knew that wouldn't do. What I didn't expect was her to write notes that clearly demonstrated she knew exactly what she'd done and what was expected from an apology. Her notes were nice too, touching even.
Everyone was touched by her notes she hand-delivered. All is forgiven and even Benji made sure my daughter wasn't afraid of him, "punching her in the face" when we went to deliver the notes to him and his children, Claire and Jay.
The Big Boy Special Dinner Meal: My son wanted to make a special dinner for us with his father. They planned the meal, made a shopping list, did the shopping and made both the meal and the dessert working together. My son has been watching cooking recipes on the Alexa Show in the kitchen and has been wanting to do more cooking after the recent day he and the other upperclassmen cooked for his class. Tonight they made Spicy Thai Basil Chicken. I came home to my son fiercely chopping chicken up with a cleaver, and brownies with pretzels in and on top of them with a homemade caramel sauce drizzled over the top. We all loved both and have asked for a remake of the main dish tomorrow, it was so good.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter saw Dhruti this evening. I told her the story about the trampoline incident before my daughter came in. She said she'd been thinking about all the things my daughter misses, not only in non-verbal queues, but many other things we take for granted because we're sighted. She thinks her anxiety may be in part from the general lack of information she has to understand everything surrounding her. She's going to try and work with her on some ways we can help her in this area. In the meantime, back home tonight, my daughter, instead of being angry and cross, rude and mean when something accidental happened, she said, "you didn't mean to step on my foot, Mom" plus several other things. She and I had a very nice conversation in which I got the feeling she almost doesn't think we're all out to get her. I hope it lasts. We're all on her side. She and I had some special conversations tonight while I did her hair. I really hope whatever happened to change her attitude today is real—and that she continues to feel the same way about things.
For three days my daughter insisted she wasn't going to write the notes—ever. Also, she also held firmly to the position she hadn't done anything wrong or had lied. In addition, she had been maligned by everyone else and ganged up on. She was accepting zero responsibility for her actions, even though others had admitted they had done things too. She said she didn't do any of the things they were saying she did.
Today we had a few ups and downs. At one point I got fed up with her behavior and said I was done for the day and I didn't want to have anything to do with her and her lousy attitude. And I meant it. I tried to avoid her for the next several hours. I think something got through to her at that point. It had been days of her trying things, things she knew we weren't going to put up with. Things would escalate and then we would try calm, reasonable, praising behavior and she'd figuratively spit in our faces. This morning I'd had enough. I was done trying for a while.
Something must have clicked. I don't know if it was the culmination of things or the last straw but about an hour later she had hurt herself and I responded minimally, making sure this bump or bruise wasn't bad and then I ignored her. As she walked out of the room she said, "I think I'm going to write my apology notes now."
And so she did. It didn't take her long, she's a fast typist. Just as I could write this blog post far more quickly than I could longhand, she can get her thoughts down as fast as she can type—and her mind moves quickly. Not ten minutes later she was downstairs with five notes written.
I had expected her to write, "Dear X, I'm sorry." and expect that to be enough, only she knew that wouldn't do. What I didn't expect was her to write notes that clearly demonstrated she knew exactly what she'd done and what was expected from an apology. Her notes were nice too, touching even.
Everyone was touched by her notes she hand-delivered. All is forgiven and even Benji made sure my daughter wasn't afraid of him, "punching her in the face" when we went to deliver the notes to him and his children, Claire and Jay.
The Big Boy Special Dinner Meal: My son wanted to make a special dinner for us with his father. They planned the meal, made a shopping list, did the shopping and made both the meal and the dessert working together. My son has been watching cooking recipes on the Alexa Show in the kitchen and has been wanting to do more cooking after the recent day he and the other upperclassmen cooked for his class. Tonight they made Spicy Thai Basil Chicken. I came home to my son fiercely chopping chicken up with a cleaver, and brownies with pretzels in and on top of them with a homemade caramel sauce drizzled over the top. We all loved both and have asked for a remake of the main dish tomorrow, it was so good.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter saw Dhruti this evening. I told her the story about the trampoline incident before my daughter came in. She said she'd been thinking about all the things my daughter misses, not only in non-verbal queues, but many other things we take for granted because we're sighted. She thinks her anxiety may be in part from the general lack of information she has to understand everything surrounding her. She's going to try and work with her on some ways we can help her in this area. In the meantime, back home tonight, my daughter, instead of being angry and cross, rude and mean when something accidental happened, she said, "you didn't mean to step on my foot, Mom" plus several other things. She and I had a very nice conversation in which I got the feeling she almost doesn't think we're all out to get her. I hope it lasts. We're all on her side. She and I had some special conversations tonight while I did her hair. I really hope whatever happened to change her attitude today is real—and that she continues to feel the same way about things.
Wednesday, January 1, 2020
I Know We’re Not Alone...
...but it sure feels like it sometimes. I hear from other parents regularly that their child or children went through the same thing or does similar or other related things. They assure me our children aren't bad-mannered, spoiled brats, but it doesn't seem like it from here. We aren't easy on them (I don't think). We have expectations for behavior, language, and politeness. We give out consequences and follow through. We are consistent and we always back the other parent up unless by accident and then we explain to the children so they will understand.
And yet it seems like we have ill-tempered, spoiled brats that can't get along with each other or anyone and believe violence, insults rudeness and ignoring instructions from adults is okay. Are they privileged? Yes, they lead a privileged life. We have the financial means to keep them fed, certainly, but they also have many toys, are able to go to places and do activities that are fun whenever we want to do them. They have two parents with flexible work schedules who are around a lot and four loving grandparents who dote on them and give them lots of time and love.
Which is why I am so frustrated at them, again. We had a New Year's Day party we've been looking forward to going to. My husband went to the store in the morning to get supplies to make baked ziti. He cooked the pasta, made the sauce and assembled the ziti before he and his parents left to go see Star Wars. When he got home he cooked it and when it was ready we were leaving for the party with the children.
There is another story I wanted to write about instead of this one, which happened in between the time he left for the movie and before we left for the party, but it will have to wait for now because this story is taking precedence in my mind. Perhaps if I have enough energy after I'm done here and if the ring of pain around my trunk isn't too bad, I'll write it today.
During the time he got back and until we left, he was pretty much correcting my son non-stop and my daughter incrementally. I was busy with our guest, about which the other, happier story, revolves. As we drove off for the party, an event that both children had complained about going to, even though it was to Theo's house (who goes to my son's school and came over to create pictures on my daughter's braillewriter). We were fairly certain both children would have fun. Even so, I'd packed some entertainment for both of them. I expected the party to be packed with both adults and children.
In the car I calmly talked to them about being respectful, using appropriate language and using their best manners at the party. My daughter interrupted me mid-sentence to talk about something totally unrelated. I asked her to wait. My son wanted to put on a comedian station on the radio, even though my husband had said we weren't going to have any audio. They didn't even act like I'd mentioned anything. I asked if they had any comments.
My daughter wanted only to talk about something unrelated. My son was unhappy about the lack of music to his liking. I tried again, trying to keep my composure. They gave flippant remarks and then started an argument between each other about who got more or less or who's turn it was. I got upset and said all I had wanted was to have a nice time out where they were on their best behavior. My son said, "I'm not falling for that." And then I lost it. I told my husband to take us home. We weren't going to the party.
I was mad. I told them we were tired of their behavior. When they got home, they would be going to separate rooms (which were empty bedrooms with nothing to entertain them). Now they were upset. I told them how their father had worked hard to make a dish for the party and now we weren't getting to go. My husband said he was disappointed because we had both been looking forward to attending the party. The children now both said they had wanted to go to the party too and balked, saying it wasn't true that they had said they didn't want to go. We reminded them when they had complained about the party.
I don't think they believed we were going home. When they discovered we were, they both got upset. They even asked if we were serious. My husband said yes, we were. We got home and sent them to different rooms. My husband brought them paper to write how they felt. My son drew a picture and said he felt like a prisoner and then tried to leave the room multiple times. Both children complained about being hungry...starving even. We told them the food had been at the party. They didn't like the thought of that.
In the car, before we got home I had told them exactly what I thought about things. I told my children I hated them. I said I wasn't falling for it about my son saying he really wanted to go to the party. My daughter typed up her feelings, saying, "I hate you mom you are the worst why do you half to exsist I love you but I don't right now."
After about forty-five minutes, my husband and I decided to have a conversation with them to see if they had changed attitudes. I called them out into the hall and asked them to sit beside me. I asked them how they felt. My daughter told me about what she wrote, saying it was her feelings. I told her it was always okay to express your feelings to us, but that the way we express things can have hurtful consequences. I explained to them that I used the words, "I hate you" in the car because that's what my daughter had said to our neighbors and their fathers the other day. If it hurt them to hear that, maybe they could understand what someone else might feel if it was said to them. I told my son I said, "I'm not buying it" about him saying he'd be good because that's what he had said to me. I said I hadn't meant either of those things, but I wanted them to experience the power of their words.
They said they could be well-behaved and did want to go to the party. We said we would try, but if things went downhill, we were coming immediately back home. We got in the car and had a nice time, leaving after the party was officially over. I don't know how long the change in behavior is going to last but I think we got through to them today. They have habits we need to break as well as some bad habits of our own as adults we need to work on. Hopefully, today we made progress in the right direction.
The New Year's Fortune Visit: This is the story that happened in the middle of the day today. Mrs. Aagaard messaged me in the early hours of the morning today, asking if we were around and if we'd like to have her come over to give my children a New Year's fortune that was a tradition in her family. We scheduled her arrival at two o'clock, before we had to leave for the party. She had asked if Madison would like to have a fortune too since she had met Madison at our last festival meeting. She arrived with an angel food cake and some charms. She divided the cake up into pieces and then hid a charm inside each piece. Each child held their hand over the slices until they felt the fortune that they were the closest to. With our slices, we each found our charm and she told us what each fortune meant. My daughter had a penny, representing finding fortune in something in the coming year. My son had a car meaning he would take a trip this year. Madison had a man which said she would be making a new friend. I had a ball so I would be picking up a new sport or would have fun in a new way this year and my husband had glasses indicating he was going to learn something new this year. We are so fortunate to have such a good friend in Mrs. Aagaard. It is always a pleasure to see her and we always learn something new. She left when my husband's baked Ziti was ready and it was time to go. She and I had gotten involved in a discussion about education and her experiences as a teacher—a subject she and I agreed we could talk for hours on. We agreed to reconvene in the future for more discussion when time permitted.
And yet it seems like we have ill-tempered, spoiled brats that can't get along with each other or anyone and believe violence, insults rudeness and ignoring instructions from adults is okay. Are they privileged? Yes, they lead a privileged life. We have the financial means to keep them fed, certainly, but they also have many toys, are able to go to places and do activities that are fun whenever we want to do them. They have two parents with flexible work schedules who are around a lot and four loving grandparents who dote on them and give them lots of time and love.
Which is why I am so frustrated at them, again. We had a New Year's Day party we've been looking forward to going to. My husband went to the store in the morning to get supplies to make baked ziti. He cooked the pasta, made the sauce and assembled the ziti before he and his parents left to go see Star Wars. When he got home he cooked it and when it was ready we were leaving for the party with the children.
There is another story I wanted to write about instead of this one, which happened in between the time he left for the movie and before we left for the party, but it will have to wait for now because this story is taking precedence in my mind. Perhaps if I have enough energy after I'm done here and if the ring of pain around my trunk isn't too bad, I'll write it today.
During the time he got back and until we left, he was pretty much correcting my son non-stop and my daughter incrementally. I was busy with our guest, about which the other, happier story, revolves. As we drove off for the party, an event that both children had complained about going to, even though it was to Theo's house (who goes to my son's school and came over to create pictures on my daughter's braillewriter). We were fairly certain both children would have fun. Even so, I'd packed some entertainment for both of them. I expected the party to be packed with both adults and children.
In the car I calmly talked to them about being respectful, using appropriate language and using their best manners at the party. My daughter interrupted me mid-sentence to talk about something totally unrelated. I asked her to wait. My son wanted to put on a comedian station on the radio, even though my husband had said we weren't going to have any audio. They didn't even act like I'd mentioned anything. I asked if they had any comments.
My daughter wanted only to talk about something unrelated. My son was unhappy about the lack of music to his liking. I tried again, trying to keep my composure. They gave flippant remarks and then started an argument between each other about who got more or less or who's turn it was. I got upset and said all I had wanted was to have a nice time out where they were on their best behavior. My son said, "I'm not falling for that." And then I lost it. I told my husband to take us home. We weren't going to the party.
I was mad. I told them we were tired of their behavior. When they got home, they would be going to separate rooms (which were empty bedrooms with nothing to entertain them). Now they were upset. I told them how their father had worked hard to make a dish for the party and now we weren't getting to go. My husband said he was disappointed because we had both been looking forward to attending the party. The children now both said they had wanted to go to the party too and balked, saying it wasn't true that they had said they didn't want to go. We reminded them when they had complained about the party.
I don't think they believed we were going home. When they discovered we were, they both got upset. They even asked if we were serious. My husband said yes, we were. We got home and sent them to different rooms. My husband brought them paper to write how they felt. My son drew a picture and said he felt like a prisoner and then tried to leave the room multiple times. Both children complained about being hungry...starving even. We told them the food had been at the party. They didn't like the thought of that.
In the car, before we got home I had told them exactly what I thought about things. I told my children I hated them. I said I wasn't falling for it about my son saying he really wanted to go to the party. My daughter typed up her feelings, saying, "I hate you mom you are the worst why do you half to exsist I love you but I don't right now."
After about forty-five minutes, my husband and I decided to have a conversation with them to see if they had changed attitudes. I called them out into the hall and asked them to sit beside me. I asked them how they felt. My daughter told me about what she wrote, saying it was her feelings. I told her it was always okay to express your feelings to us, but that the way we express things can have hurtful consequences. I explained to them that I used the words, "I hate you" in the car because that's what my daughter had said to our neighbors and their fathers the other day. If it hurt them to hear that, maybe they could understand what someone else might feel if it was said to them. I told my son I said, "I'm not buying it" about him saying he'd be good because that's what he had said to me. I said I hadn't meant either of those things, but I wanted them to experience the power of their words.
They said they could be well-behaved and did want to go to the party. We said we would try, but if things went downhill, we were coming immediately back home. We got in the car and had a nice time, leaving after the party was officially over. I don't know how long the change in behavior is going to last but I think we got through to them today. They have habits we need to break as well as some bad habits of our own as adults we need to work on. Hopefully, today we made progress in the right direction.
The New Year's Fortune Visit: This is the story that happened in the middle of the day today. Mrs. Aagaard messaged me in the early hours of the morning today, asking if we were around and if we'd like to have her come over to give my children a New Year's fortune that was a tradition in her family. We scheduled her arrival at two o'clock, before we had to leave for the party. She had asked if Madison would like to have a fortune too since she had met Madison at our last festival meeting. She arrived with an angel food cake and some charms. She divided the cake up into pieces and then hid a charm inside each piece. Each child held their hand over the slices until they felt the fortune that they were the closest to. With our slices, we each found our charm and she told us what each fortune meant. My daughter had a penny, representing finding fortune in something in the coming year. My son had a car meaning he would take a trip this year. Madison had a man which said she would be making a new friend. I had a ball so I would be picking up a new sport or would have fun in a new way this year and my husband had glasses indicating he was going to learn something new this year. We are so fortunate to have such a good friend in Mrs. Aagaard. It is always a pleasure to see her and we always learn something new. She left when my husband's baked Ziti was ready and it was time to go. She and I had gotten involved in a discussion about education and her experiences as a teacher—a subject she and I agreed we could talk for hours on. We agreed to reconvene in the future for more discussion when time permitted.
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