Category: Growing a Daughter

Updates and stories about my daughter from China who came home with challenges described in letters—PDD-NOS (on the autism spectrum), ADHD and RAD (Reactive Attachment Disorder). Her learning curve has been steep and therapy is a way of life. School and social interactions are a challenge. Making art is a way of life. So is a vivid imagination.

grandpa

Did grandpa love me?  Was grandpa excited when I came home?  Did grandpa scoop me up when I was a little baby? Did I have a dress on when I met grandpa?  He did think I was cute?  My grandpa would never abandon me.  My grandpa is handsome.

During breakfast, I was checking Facebook and Julia spied a picture of her grandfather, David’s father, that one of her cousins posted on Veterans Day.  It unleashed a torrent of questions and ideas that must have been bottled up for sometime.

It was a candid picture of Bob Schanker during his air force days.  A half smile, jaunty tilt of the head and obviously happy.  He was a navigator during the Second World War and, if his stories were to be believed, he lived some of the best years of his life during that time.  He thrived in the company of men from all over the country.  He explored outside of his Jersey roots.  He was no longer under his mother’s thumb.  He saw a little action — I’m not sure how much.  Most of his time was spent state side, first learning and honing his skills, and later teaching those navigators who came in behind him.  Much later, he would become a favorite and beloved high school business teacher and so I do not doubt that his gifts were put to good use in the service.  There are many pictures of the girls and/or women he met during his service time.  He had no special girl at home, at least the way he told it, and so flirted and socialized (and took pictures) as he moved from base to base.

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dreams

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“Find out the reason that commands you to write; see whether it has spread its roots into the very depth of your heart; confess to yourself you would have to die if you were forbidden to write.”

― Rainer Maria Rilke

Came across these Rilke words this morning as I looked for something else.  Rilke always speaks to me, from wedding vows (“. . . a good marriage is one in which each partner appoints the other to be the guardian of his solitude . . .”) to growing a spiritual life ( “. . . learn to love the questions . . .“).  I come back to, stumble across, have quoted back to me words that he wrote that always draw me deeper.

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small steps

IMG_2166Julia put a new roll of toilet paper in the holder on Friday.  A small gesture but one of the “one small step . . .” kind of things.  I know that for any 13 year old to actually notice that some household chore needs to be done and to do it without being asked is pretty incredible.  For Julia, the noticing of the world around her in that way and to reach out to contribute to it is a “giant leap.”

Is the the vision therapy and probiotics at work?  Or is it just maturation?  Certainly, it can’t just be being 13.

Brunch yesterday with friends and talk about middle school and their coming sabbatical.  The middle school talk was interesting.  I got to vent which I seem to need to do with ever increasing frequency these days.  My friend talked of how much she likes the school that I decided not to send Julia to.  I cannot say that Julia would have been better served there.  The change of principal seems to work in that school’s favor but it was big and crowded and at least last year there was no possibility of asking for an art class each semester.  But my friend talked of the near magical teachers, welcoming community and her son absolutely beamed talked about HIS school.  Oy!

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blue parts

IMG_2998I wrote this yesterday but after planting 400 bulbs, having a delightful dinner with a friend, and watching part of the last Star Wars movie with Julia, I fell asleep without publishing.  Ah, the writing life.

Observing myself this week possibly more closely than usual.  Looking for what to write about each day — umm, well didn’t work yesterday.  The mix of joys and sorrows and frustrations and blessings abound.  And the petals are falling on the dining room table.

Election result.  I am disappointed.  Not surprised.  I inform myself, I read, I think about who is running and what they believe in, I vote, of course, but I did nothing to work for those candidates that I believe in.  I don’t believe in turning away from our system in frustration and despair, but at the same time, I would rather not expend my energy working and advocating for the system.  Is that a mindset that just doesn’t work in a democracy?  Is it my job to be involved no matter what else there is in my life?  When I was in theater, I believed, however wrongly, that my art was all of the outreach I needed to do.  I would impact my world with my art.  I’m not saying that I really did that or that my work had some more global effect on anyone.

Later, when I worked for the federal court system, I was not allowed to be politically active in a visible sort of way and it was easy to embrace the judicial lifestyle.  Now.  Well, I did a little bit of campaign work when Obama was up for elections.  Didn’t love it, didn’t hate it.  I don’t feel it is my calling, but I hate feeling powerless or frustrate.  There are only so many productive hours in the day.  My plate does tend to be full but does that matter when I am watching the steady trek backwards in terms of policies that I think are important?

More middle school frustration.  More.  More.  In the assignment notebook last night was news of a science quiz.  There was a review sheet of sorts but it wasn’t clear whether Julia was supposed to fill out more of it than what was already done.  And she has no idea.  Her special ed teacher and I set up a procedure for taking quizzes and tests that involved getting Julia ready for tests over a period of days.  And so, a review sheet or sample test comes home a week or so before the testing day and we study little by little.  One night of studying does absolutely no good and it just frustrates Julia and I.

So that was where we started last night.  I had her read the little bit of material on the review sheet a few times and switched to practicing cello.

Today, I went in with her.  Talked to the special ed teacher who was also frustrated that the science teacher is not following the plan, but then again the aide in that classroom is different from the aide who was there when the plan was set up.  And I made my case for reducing the number of people that she sees.  Every doc and therapist that I talk to has agreed that Julia needs a smaller and  consistent staff.  When I made this pitched to the principal later, she talked about all the variables that can’t be controlled for.  And I agreed.  Someone is sick and out, someone is on leave, someone was needed in a place of higher need than Julia.  All of the makes sense and I know that Julia needs to learn to accommodate for that; however, if her people-environment is smaller to begin with she might start building some relationships that will allow for some change and flexibility.  As it stands now, it seems to be all change and transition for her— bells going off every 45 minutes, changing classes for each class, kids she doesn’t know and a building she is only beginning to recognize.  Some of this is the bedrock of middle school, but the plea that I am making is to make some changes where we can.  I see people as a possibility.  I think Julia’s special ed teacher can see that.  I am not sure about the principal.  It is system change that I am looking for and the powers-that-be would rather put a bandaid on the gap than change.

People with only neuro-typical kids tend to say that all kids face these kinds of challenges.  Middle school is a big change and some kids take a long time to settle.  I was going to write that if those people could spend one day with Julia they would know that her challenges with these change make typical kid settling into middle school look easy-peasy, but what strikes me is that if it is difficult for many kids, why is this the system?  I have read that middle school can be generally considered a wasteland between elementary and high school that needs to be endured.  I wonder why we are punishing kids for getting into sixth grade?  Why shouldn’t the system fit the kids instead of fitting those kids into an unfriendly and sometimes destructive system?

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ivy

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The doll has caught her interest.

Backstory:  Julia has never liked dolls.  I brought a baby doll with me to China when we met but it had eyes that opened and closed and that terrified her.  She threw it on the floor of our hotel room and used a teddy bear to beat on it.  It wasn’t until she was home for almost four years when she found a stuffed toy — Lizzy the purple t-Rex dinosaur — to cuddle with in bed.  She was nine and still crazy interested in dinosaurs.  The trip to Disney, the T-Rex Cafe, and finally Build-a-Dino that started the love affair with Lizzy.

I think I re-gifted the baby doll Julia’s third or fourth Christmas home.  She didn’t beat it up but she didn’t play with it either.  But last Family Day, the combination of a doll that looked like her — American Girl Doll Asian-version Ivy, a “best friend” doll — and the Gryffindor uniform and robes that I made for Ivy made for pretty good insurance that she would look a bit favorably on the doll.

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to yourself . .

So, I signed myself up to blog everyday for the month of November and rather conveniently I found a very good excuse not to do it yesterday.  I did jot a few notes for yesterday including that I was feeling slightly embarrassed to share the enhanced writing life on a daily basis with Facebook.  If the feeling continues I could disengage the Facebook feed or I can grit my teeth and just admit to the world that I write a lot of crap much too often.

Part of the excuse for not writing yesterday is driving to Chicago and a full day which included a long eye doc visit and a trip to the american girl doll store.  The high point of the day was late and delicious Chinese dinner with good conversation.  After which, sleep was the only thing I was interested in. Continue reading →

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and again . . .

Call to action or just a terrible awful week?  Um, maybe 12 days.  And maybe both.  Processing and working to avoid leaning to despair or Poly Anna optimism.

Yes.

So the terrible part.  Starting with last week — Julia unraveling in orchestra because there was no cello for her to play.  Tests without preparation to assess what was being learned when I could see the answer was ‘not very much.’  Projects coming home to finish without adequate instruction for me.  Sometimes not coming home at all.  Julia constantly rearranging the all important binder and losing its contents all over the school.  Julia picking and scratching at her head and growing bald spots — clear anxiety.  My own trip to the ER last Friday which postponed the teacher and staff meeting that had been scheduled for that day. Continue reading →

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vibrato

Julia is still struggling with counting eighth notes, which is not unusual at her level, however, this weekend she wanted to leap to some much more advanced level.  We listened to Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and she heard vibrato.  She has heard plenty of music with vibrato but this weekend she recognized it for the first time.

“What is that wobbly sound?”  And I tried to explain.

When it came time for cello practice, she tried to reproduce the sound by vibrating her bow instead of the fingers on the neck of the cello.  Quite ingenious really.  It looked very silly but she managed a sound that was something like vibrato.

When I explained how the sound was made, Julia did not like it as much as moving the bow around.  She tried it as she practiced and I asked her not to do it until Martha, her teacher, explains it much better than I could.

Bow hand and arm positions and directions, posture and sitting position, and recently having all of her tapes taken off, there seems to be plenty to concentrate on.  I send up a secret prayer that vibrato can wait a year or so down the line.

Still, gotta’ give the kid credit.

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weekend

I have not done any extra math work with Julia since school began.  She did have math homework and math-y science homework last week, neither of which was easy for her, but I have not tried to do more than assigned during the last two weeks.  Can I say that I feel like I am on vacation??

This week coming up Julia will have a spelling test on Tuesday and a book “review” due on Friday.  Starting on Friday, we’ve done a bit of each for the last three days.  The review is finished and she did her spelling sentences and is ready for the test.  The kid really is a very good speller.  She needed to look up definitions for almost all of her 10 words — narration, throughout, thoughtfully, essential — and some of her sentences are awkward or obvious.  My favorite was “Listening to my mom is essential in my life.”  The only word that seemed impossible for her was narration.  I don’t give her example sentences but I do try very hard to help her find definitions that are useful.  She is very proficient at finding definitions on the internet, but so many time the definitions shed no light on the meaning of the word unless you already know what the word means.  I was in seventh or eighth grade when I made the discovery — was I slow on the uptake? Continue reading →

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sad days & purpose

I wanted to journal as soon as I dropped off Julia at school today.  Instead, I came home and browsed around the internet letting the postings about 9/11 bounce off or sink beneath my skin.  Our Black Tuesday, Pearl Harbor and Kennedy Assassination — our days that changed everything.  Why do we need those days to change everything?   Why . . . Perhaps I should ask why don’t I change before it is forced upon me.  When I get the ‘why’ for me, perhaps I’ll comment on the bigger us.

Fall creeped in today as well.  Not creeped, although under cover of darkness.  Danced in with trumpets and streamers is more like it.  Last shorts worn yesterday, both of us in socks this morning, sweatshirts that will probably stay on all day, wondering whether I will get plants put in the garden before tomorrow’s predicted rain and the slight possibility of frost.

A gray day.  Working hard not to let the sad significance of the say stick but damn it is hard when the sky is so dreary and lights need to be turned on at nine in the morning.

A day of tasks preparing for dinner guests by clearing and a vacuum.  Wash needs to be folded and then outside to over seed, hoping it is not too late for that, planting new perennials and the Japanese iris I dug up yesterday.  Dividing perennials is always a thrill after the work of digging and dividing is finished.  What I dug up yesterday was a newly planted patch five years ago that should have been divided last fall.

Something else.

Each year First Unitarian Society (FUS), our church, has an art show/fair.  Art in the Wright Place — Wright because it is held in the space designed by Frank Lloyd.  I filled out an application for Julia this year.  The summer’s art work lends itself to sale and Julia could work on both money and social skills at the sale.  The response to Julia’s tee shirts has been great and more people are asking if they could order one and so, I thought that we could also make some shirts for the fair.  However, Julia did not make the cut.  The reasoning was that the art fair wants to attract quality artists and customers beyond our congregation.  If they open the door to Julia, other kids may want to participate forcing the PTB to pass judgment on kid art.  If any kid who applied is accepted, that would change the tenor of the show, professionals will be less likely to want to participate and the fundraising focus will diminish.

The particular power that sent the message also asked if she could order a dancin’ dino shirt because she had only become aware of them when some of the folks around her received them.  When I explained that the shirts were part of a limited time fundraiser and that I had hoped to offer some shirts at the art show, she suggested that I check out ways to keep the tees coming.  I momentarily thought about it but “the reason for the rule” tapped me on the shoulder.

“Reason for the rule” is short hand for something a law school prof proposed — if the reason for the rule does not apply to a situation, then the rule should not be imposed.

The reason for making more shirts was for Julia to get social skill and money practice with people at the show.  Doing any more by mail order doesn’t give her the practice that was intended, and to be honest, although she is thrilled that people are wearing her shirts, she is not impressed that her art is on a shirt.  She doesn’t need the ego boost.  To keep the shirts coming through some private printing might be only fanning my own vanity.  The shirts are fun but I’m not interested in setting Julia up in business just yet. Most of the work would fall on me and I’m not interested in setting up a Julia-related art business just yet.  I hate saying ‘no’ to folks who are asking for more shirts, but . . . there is such a pull to get sidetracked by endeavors that slide so far from original purposes.

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