From the file "I Couldn't Make This Sand Up":
Prologue: The Castle is full of crabbier-than-usual crabs. We're all together, many of us are feeling less-than-100% and others who are feeling a bit of Castle-fever. GMK, admittedly, is in the Crabby Camp.
Location: "Great (small) Room"
[TV on Fox News, GMK perched in the recliner, after dinner/meds, with Jamie self-talking/drawing on the couch, LLGA cooing, and the J-crabs having a feisty re-re-rematch of "spite and malice"]
GMK (for about the 95th time]: "Stop prattling! Or the two of you need to find some other place to play, like the floor of your room."
J-crabs: "Naw..." (packing it up)
CQ: "Jamie, I'll play you over here."
Jamie (the surliest crab in the Castle, always): "I'm outta here. That chick is always squawking at me."
-------
Sadly for the Effort at Good Conduct and Discipline, both the "chick" (and I think he intended it in the hen/foul sense == not the slur for female) and I busted out giggling, with CQ announcing, "That's the first blog-worthy vignette of the whole day!"
Thursday, April 30, 2009
The Epic Tale of Welfare Applications: Monday morning.
Background: In the state of California, county of San Diego, in order for children with significant/life-long disabilities to receive certain services, it is required that they receive Medi-Cal.
Really. I can't make this up. First, Medi-Cal...and only then In-Home Support Services.
Now, my gentle reader might think to herself, "But the A-----n family has fabulous, fantastic military healthcare."
Correct. Like I said, I can't make this up.
More (convoluted) Background: In the state of California, there is a special program for said "consumers" (i.e., persons with developmental disabilities) wherein their parents' assets are ignored when considering their eligibility for certain programs. This involves words like "DDS Waiver" and "Institutional Deeming".
What this means is that every year -- or in the CQ's case, every 6 months (as the Big Sled Dog and C-boy cases are staggered) -- a family must file a TON of paperwork. As bad as income taxes.
And in our case(s), the overwhelming majority of the paperwork (bank statements, pay stubs, etc.) is promptly set aside and disregarded. But we have to provide it anyway.
But it gets better. The geniuses (genii?) decided that rather than allow us to submit our child's birth certificate as a photocopy that they wanted to scan each/every birth certificate of a child from the original. Well, this would make sense except that there are, of course, services provided for those who don't possess said birth certificate AND a plethora of alternatives for those who can't produce one (such as an "Affidavit of Identity").
So, rather than photocopy and mail in the ridiculous paperwork, we had an extra crunchy layer of suffering goodness: a trip to the Medi-Cal office. In person.
Remember, a voyage, a journey, an Odyssey if you will to make re-application to a program that we don't need. Or use. In theory, Medi-Cal would pay our co-pays. I know some families who do use this "benefit". But the ol' Crab Queen feels that the Crab Family shouldn't put that on CA, who is helping with the disability part.
With great frustration, I spent much of last week contacting the Medi-Cal cogs to figure out whether we might do the efficient action and align the two boys' cases so that my pain could accrue on merely an annual basis (vice the current bi-annual schedule). When I type "frustration", read: I picked up the phone and called my State Senator Kehoe's office. That's after no fewer than 5 calls to Medi-Cal.
Finally, Medi-Cal worker AA (her initials) calls me and suggests an interview appointment. I somewhat churlishly agree. Having mutually endured one another for over 4 years, meeting in person had the potential to ruin our "love-story".
So on Monday (i.e., Day one of Charlie's fever/cough/etc.), GMK, LLGA, Charlie-boy, and I truck across town, arriving less than 5 minutes before the appointment. Even with a tour through the wrong facility's parking lot and with at least one illegal turn.
I have to admit the new office location is far superior to the one I recollect from my initial application. But, there is still a freedom search required. Always my favorite part. That and the fact that the signs are in a zillion tongues -- and English is no bigger or smaller than the zillion other translations.
Recall that the H1N1 Influenza A outbreak is the top news story of the day. So the CQ is holding her breath while surveying the teeming throngs of people, all sitting with that glazed-over expression best reserved for trips to the Dept. of Motor Vehicles. Not being able to figure out where to stand due to aforementioned lack of readable signage, I went for the shortest line (i.e., where there were no other humans standing). The clerk made me wait anyway, clearly feeling quick customer service would just convey a false first impression.
Even when she indicated that I could approach her window, it was ambivalent. So ambivalent that I stayed put in the labyrinth. The first invitation was not very inviting a milliseconds-long flail of the arm. Could have been shooing a fly and I wasn't leaving my hard-fought front-of-line spot. The second invitation involved the addition of the barest suggestion of eye contact and the same flail so I did approach. But with caution and my very best recreate-the-Crab-Queen's-image to a softer, more desperate, more human countenance. Clearly, not worth the effort.
I explained that I was now 2 minutes late for my 9:30 appointment with AA (not including that tardiness was thanks to the 3 minutes spent waiting for clerk to process my presence in the non-line queue). The clerk gave a jerk of her head to indicate that AA was just right over there. Apparently, milliseconds-long tics that could be interpreted as involuntary body movements were her preferred mode of communication. (Note: totally disappointed in myself as only AA's girth was as expected...all other aspects completely different). AA was wearing a most easy-to-follow in a sea of bland blood-red shirt. But, wait, there was a line of 4 or 5 zombies where she was working.
I gave the clerk my best Coach handbag-carrying look and asked whether I should just wait right here at this window. Nice try, CQ. I was instructed, Just get in her line. As I suspected. "But I have an appointment," I beseeched. No eye contact and I'm pretty sure her arm made some movement -- probably one to engage the overt security presence to her window. (If she made more complex motor sequences, it would have been the classic finger-encircling ear to convey "This one's cuckoo"). More waiting with the exponentially larger opportunity to acquire the H1N1 Influenza A virus. I was having NONE of that.
English as a first language, Demanding as an innate talent, I went for the only option that could change the course of my destiny in the five-person line. I bellowed, "A----a?!"
My new Best Friend Forever, AA, looked over like I was some sort of manna-with-a-Coach-handbag from above. Happily, she announced in a loud voice, "I have an appointment...I need to go take this meeting." I was whisked by a security guy to a private meeting cubicle (#4) so that I could hand her all the paperwork and the original birth certificates.
At this point I adopted my best Clint Eastwood voice/look/demeanor and said "Scan these. Please. And I'll be on my way." She looked like she wanted to draw the "interview" out so I opened the magnificent white folder where I'd copied everything twice for her ease in reviewing both cases simultaneously and she decided that my efforts called for immediate positive reinforcement.
She literally beamed and gasped in pleasure. So much organization, so little chaos. Oh, if AA had only known the vast spray of expletives (Sand, Sandy, Sand-encrusted, Sandwiched sand, etc.) that had created the glory of the white folder of non-needed, but mandatory up-to-the-second information about the finances of the Crab Familia.
I was back in the Odyssey within 10 minutes of my arrival. Pretty sure that I was the recipient of "Medi-Cal appointment envy" glares from my fellow applicants. And, if C-boy tests positive for the "H1N1 Influenza A virus", I'm blaming the teeming crowd first.
--------
For future reference: Only a frenzied idiot would have walked into the Medi-Cal office with an expensive handbag gracing her forearm. I am just that frenzied and just that stupid!
Really. I can't make this up. First, Medi-Cal...and only then In-Home Support Services.
Now, my gentle reader might think to herself, "But the A-----n family has fabulous, fantastic military healthcare."
Correct. Like I said, I can't make this up.
More (convoluted) Background: In the state of California, there is a special program for said "consumers" (i.e., persons with developmental disabilities) wherein their parents' assets are ignored when considering their eligibility for certain programs. This involves words like "DDS Waiver" and "Institutional Deeming".
What this means is that every year -- or in the CQ's case, every 6 months (as the Big Sled Dog and C-boy cases are staggered) -- a family must file a TON of paperwork. As bad as income taxes.
And in our case(s), the overwhelming majority of the paperwork (bank statements, pay stubs, etc.) is promptly set aside and disregarded. But we have to provide it anyway.
But it gets better. The geniuses (genii?) decided that rather than allow us to submit our child's birth certificate as a photocopy that they wanted to scan each/every birth certificate of a child from the original. Well, this would make sense except that there are, of course, services provided for those who don't possess said birth certificate AND a plethora of alternatives for those who can't produce one (such as an "Affidavit of Identity").
So, rather than photocopy and mail in the ridiculous paperwork, we had an extra crunchy layer of suffering goodness: a trip to the Medi-Cal office. In person.
Remember, a voyage, a journey, an Odyssey if you will to make re-application to a program that we don't need. Or use. In theory, Medi-Cal would pay our co-pays. I know some families who do use this "benefit". But the ol' Crab Queen feels that the Crab Family shouldn't put that on CA, who is helping with the disability part.
With great frustration, I spent much of last week contacting the Medi-Cal cogs to figure out whether we might do the efficient action and align the two boys' cases so that my pain could accrue on merely an annual basis (vice the current bi-annual schedule). When I type "frustration", read: I picked up the phone and called my State Senator Kehoe's office. That's after no fewer than 5 calls to Medi-Cal.
Finally, Medi-Cal worker AA (her initials) calls me and suggests an interview appointment. I somewhat churlishly agree. Having mutually endured one another for over 4 years, meeting in person had the potential to ruin our "love-story".
So on Monday (i.e., Day one of Charlie's fever/cough/etc.), GMK, LLGA, Charlie-boy, and I truck across town, arriving less than 5 minutes before the appointment. Even with a tour through the wrong facility's parking lot and with at least one illegal turn.
I have to admit the new office location is far superior to the one I recollect from my initial application. But, there is still a freedom search required. Always my favorite part. That and the fact that the signs are in a zillion tongues -- and English is no bigger or smaller than the zillion other translations.
Recall that the H1N1 Influenza A outbreak is the top news story of the day. So the CQ is holding her breath while surveying the teeming throngs of people, all sitting with that glazed-over expression best reserved for trips to the Dept. of Motor Vehicles. Not being able to figure out where to stand due to aforementioned lack of readable signage, I went for the shortest line (i.e., where there were no other humans standing). The clerk made me wait anyway, clearly feeling quick customer service would just convey a false first impression.
Even when she indicated that I could approach her window, it was ambivalent. So ambivalent that I stayed put in the labyrinth. The first invitation was not very inviting a milliseconds-long flail of the arm. Could have been shooing a fly and I wasn't leaving my hard-fought front-of-line spot. The second invitation involved the addition of the barest suggestion of eye contact and the same flail so I did approach. But with caution and my very best recreate-the-Crab-Queen's-image to a softer, more desperate, more human countenance. Clearly, not worth the effort.
I explained that I was now 2 minutes late for my 9:30 appointment with AA (not including that tardiness was thanks to the 3 minutes spent waiting for clerk to process my presence in the non-line queue). The clerk gave a jerk of her head to indicate that AA was just right over there. Apparently, milliseconds-long tics that could be interpreted as involuntary body movements were her preferred mode of communication. (Note: totally disappointed in myself as only AA's girth was as expected...all other aspects completely different). AA was wearing a most easy-to-follow in a sea of bland blood-red shirt. But, wait, there was a line of 4 or 5 zombies where she was working.
I gave the clerk my best Coach handbag-carrying look and asked whether I should just wait right here at this window. Nice try, CQ. I was instructed, Just get in her line. As I suspected. "But I have an appointment," I beseeched. No eye contact and I'm pretty sure her arm made some movement -- probably one to engage the overt security presence to her window. (If she made more complex motor sequences, it would have been the classic finger-encircling ear to convey "This one's cuckoo"). More waiting with the exponentially larger opportunity to acquire the H1N1 Influenza A virus. I was having NONE of that.
English as a first language, Demanding as an innate talent, I went for the only option that could change the course of my destiny in the five-person line. I bellowed, "A----a?!"
My new Best Friend Forever, AA, looked over like I was some sort of manna-with-a-Coach-handbag from above. Happily, she announced in a loud voice, "I have an appointment...I need to go take this meeting." I was whisked by a security guy to a private meeting cubicle (#4) so that I could hand her all the paperwork and the original birth certificates.
At this point I adopted my best Clint Eastwood voice/look/demeanor and said "Scan these. Please. And I'll be on my way." She looked like she wanted to draw the "interview" out so I opened the magnificent white folder where I'd copied everything twice for her ease in reviewing both cases simultaneously and she decided that my efforts called for immediate positive reinforcement.
She literally beamed and gasped in pleasure. So much organization, so little chaos. Oh, if AA had only known the vast spray of expletives (Sand, Sandy, Sand-encrusted, Sandwiched sand, etc.) that had created the glory of the white folder of non-needed, but mandatory up-to-the-second information about the finances of the Crab Familia.
I was back in the Odyssey within 10 minutes of my arrival. Pretty sure that I was the recipient of "Medi-Cal appointment envy" glares from my fellow applicants. And, if C-boy tests positive for the "H1N1 Influenza A virus", I'm blaming the teeming crowd first.
--------
For future reference: Only a frenzied idiot would have walked into the Medi-Cal office with an expensive handbag gracing her forearm. I am just that frenzied and just that stupid!
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
All you need to know about the Castle: Wednesday.
Charlie's on Tamiflu (R).
(Fast test was negative for Influenza A and B; however, the Infectious Disease specialist was suspicious of C-boy's symptoms (e.g., fever, cough, emesis). Swab sent for official testing -- should know definitively on Friday).
GMK was so sympathetic that she went to Target Boutique and bought him a replacement Leapster (since he'd drooled so much as to bust the touch screen). Er, perhaps she was willing to go pick up meds at Naval Hospital and make the mercy run to Target because EVERYONE had minimum days (Tim, Jack, and Jamie) today. Charlie, of course, had the most minimum day of all.
I am wavering between stoic and panic-stricken, as one would expect.
(Fast test was negative for Influenza A and B; however, the Infectious Disease specialist was suspicious of C-boy's symptoms (e.g., fever, cough, emesis). Swab sent for official testing -- should know definitively on Friday).
GMK was so sympathetic that she went to Target Boutique and bought him a replacement Leapster (since he'd drooled so much as to bust the touch screen). Er, perhaps she was willing to go pick up meds at Naval Hospital and make the mercy run to Target because EVERYONE had minimum days (Tim, Jack, and Jamie) today. Charlie, of course, had the most minimum day of all.
I am wavering between stoic and panic-stricken, as one would expect.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Weekend Report
Saturday:
Jack's team has dropped its third in a row in Mira Mesa (locale of latest outbreak of swine flu, thank you very much). According to Jack, he hit it to the "warning track" but it was caught.
Jamie's team lost, too. Jamie continues to amaze me with his poise on the mound. He gave up a run but struck out two in one inning of work.
Sunday:
Jamie attended a First Holy Communion party following a "super-long" (Jack's description) Mass. Then he went to Little League Day for the Padres with a buddy's family. After the game, he apparently got his fanny spanked by a 1st-grader at ping pong and announced that he wanted to go home now.
Monday:
Charlie spiked a fever in the wee hours. (I swear, this sentence could type itself). Lots of coughing. Weary - oh so weary - of the swine flu coverage.
But, alas, I had to go to the Health and Human Services Department for the County of SD. This epic tale deserves its own posting ... later.
Jack, after failing to be elected four consecutive elections in Boy Scouts, finally wins. Patrol Leader. The boy has resiliency.
Jack's team has dropped its third in a row in Mira Mesa (locale of latest outbreak of swine flu, thank you very much). According to Jack, he hit it to the "warning track" but it was caught.
Jamie's team lost, too. Jamie continues to amaze me with his poise on the mound. He gave up a run but struck out two in one inning of work.
Sunday:
Jamie attended a First Holy Communion party following a "super-long" (Jack's description) Mass. Then he went to Little League Day for the Padres with a buddy's family. After the game, he apparently got his fanny spanked by a 1st-grader at ping pong and announced that he wanted to go home now.
Monday:
Charlie spiked a fever in the wee hours. (I swear, this sentence could type itself). Lots of coughing. Weary - oh so weary - of the swine flu coverage.
But, alas, I had to go to the Health and Human Services Department for the County of SD. This epic tale deserves its own posting ... later.
Jack, after failing to be elected four consecutive elections in Boy Scouts, finally wins. Patrol Leader. The boy has resiliency.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Milestone: Day 365.
Tomorrow will be the one-year anniversary of Combat Crab's departure.
As a fan of integers, I'd like to submit these mostly-crabby & quite random annual tallies:
104 = Estimate of $5 hot n' ready Little Caesar's pizzas fed to crablets
6 = Memorable ER trips (definitely a low-ball tally -- 2 Tim, 1 Lucy, and 3 Charlie)
3 = Opossums participating in the Allbritton Garage/Yard Catch n' Release Program
4 = Crablet birthday cakes that Combat Crab didn't taste
1 = Exact and total number of times the CQ touched the Lawn mower.
7 (or possibly 8) = Care packages mailed to Combat Crab
5 = Calls from the Expeditionary Combat Readiness Center, to check in on the Familia Crab
1,389 = Times I've declined/forbid "Wii" playing when begged + 1 more while I'm typing this list
11 = Bottles of "mouse piss" (see glossary), 32 oz. per bottle.
2 = Late payment bills (i.e., CQ dropping the ball)
1 = Late fee
16 = Average number of daily diapers changed (down from a high of 23)
2 = Major purchases (Odyssey, Dell)
3 = Orange (or "sunset-colored") vegetables that LLGA has sampled
0 = Times the Crab Queen has bested a J-crab at Wii bowling.
5 = Houses toured
0 = Offers on real estate
10 = Merit badges earned
35 = Answering machine messages saved on the Castle machine boasting Combat Crab's voice.
6 = Available space for other voice mail messages.
2 = Scout rank advancements
11 = Report cards
5+ = Repaired holes in the wall
2 = Holes left not repaired
138 = Episodes of "Get Smart" TV series that J-crabs have viewed largely unsupervised.
30 = Average daily doses of medication & supplements administered to crablets
(Truly astounding & exhausting)
4 = Sinus rinses each day for Jamie and Tim.
(Less gross than it sounds, but altogether labor-intensive)
6 = Beds purchased & assembled by APC and/or CQ for crablets
6.5 = Daily average loads of Castle laundry
241 = Approximate inflations of the AeroBed(TM)
27 = Gallons of Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate Consumed via Drive-Thru
15 = Days of R and R
707 = Staggering number of blog postings
and, of course
1 = New Crablet.
As a fan of integers, I'd like to submit these mostly-crabby & quite random annual tallies:
104 = Estimate of $5 hot n' ready Little Caesar's pizzas fed to crablets
6 = Memorable ER trips (definitely a low-ball tally -- 2 Tim, 1 Lucy, and 3 Charlie)
3 = Opossums participating in the Allbritton Garage/Yard Catch n' Release Program
4 = Crablet birthday cakes that Combat Crab didn't taste
1 = Exact and total number of times the CQ touched the Lawn mower.
7 (or possibly 8) = Care packages mailed to Combat Crab
5 = Calls from the Expeditionary Combat Readiness Center, to check in on the Familia Crab
1,389 = Times I've declined/forbid "Wii" playing when begged + 1 more while I'm typing this list
11 = Bottles of "mouse piss" (see glossary), 32 oz. per bottle.
2 = Late payment bills (i.e., CQ dropping the ball)
1 = Late fee
16 = Average number of daily diapers changed (down from a high of 23)
2 = Major purchases (Odyssey, Dell)
3 = Orange (or "sunset-colored") vegetables that LLGA has sampled
0 = Times the Crab Queen has bested a J-crab at Wii bowling.
5 = Houses toured
0 = Offers on real estate
10 = Merit badges earned
35 = Answering machine messages saved on the Castle machine boasting Combat Crab's voice.
6 = Available space for other voice mail messages.
2 = Scout rank advancements
11 = Report cards
5+ = Repaired holes in the wall
2 = Holes left not repaired
138 = Episodes of "Get Smart" TV series that J-crabs have viewed largely unsupervised.
30 = Average daily doses of medication & supplements administered to crablets
(Truly astounding & exhausting)
4 = Sinus rinses each day for Jamie and Tim.
(Less gross than it sounds, but altogether labor-intensive)
6 = Beds purchased & assembled by APC and/or CQ for crablets
6.5 = Daily average loads of Castle laundry
241 = Approximate inflations of the AeroBed(TM)
27 = Gallons of Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate Consumed via Drive-Thru
15 = Days of R and R
707 = Staggering number of blog postings
and, of course
1 = New Crablet.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Guest Blogger: Patty Lisa Triplets
So, Patty Lisa T. was sitting at her computer and the beautiful Ava (one of the 5-y-o triplets) approaches and exclaims,
"Can we watch the Lucy Show??!"
Apparently, Ava thought that LLGA's videos (as posted routinely on this blog) were a TV show...a reality show of sorts for the younger crowd.
"Can we watch the Lucy Show??!"
Apparently, Ava thought that LLGA's videos (as posted routinely on this blog) were a TV show...a reality show of sorts for the younger crowd.
Having "Connections"
Not previously noted in the Castle tidings was a 3-for-3 streak. As in 3 meetings in 3 days for special education at the District level that does not in the least involve my own crablets' educations.
Wednesday: "Reunion" meeting of the Hehir Special Education Reform Workgroups, 3:30-5:10 p.m.
Thursday: Executive Committee meeting of the Community Advisory Committee (of which the CQ is Vice Chair), 6:30-8:30 p.m.
Friday: CAC-SDUSD Admin meeting, 9-10:20 a.m.
[Redacted] speech therapist, in the IEP, speaks up and says, "Aren't you friends with [Crab Queen]?"
I say, "Yes."
[Ed. note: Poor Patty, to be put on the spot thusly].
Speech therapist then says, "Well, she has connections"....
Apparently, 5 hours of meetings in under 48 hours = "connections".
Sigh. And here comes IEP season. Time to elevate the IEP Survivor widget.
Wednesday: "Reunion" meeting of the Hehir Special Education Reform Workgroups, 3:30-5:10 p.m.
Thursday: Executive Committee meeting of the Community Advisory Committee (of which the CQ is Vice Chair), 6:30-8:30 p.m.
Friday: CAC-SDUSD Admin meeting, 9-10:20 a.m.
[Redacted] speech therapist, in the IEP, speaks up and says, "Aren't you friends with [Crab Queen]?"
I say, "Yes."
[Ed. note: Poor Patty, to be put on the spot thusly].
Speech therapist then says, "Well, she has connections"....
Apparently, 5 hours of meetings in under 48 hours = "connections".
Sigh. And here comes IEP season. Time to elevate the IEP Survivor widget.
Friday, April 24, 2009
Thursday, April 23, 2009
This just in!!!
StoryPeople (TM) charms!
http://www.storypeople.com/storypeople/PageInclude.do?path=/doc/dig/charms.html
Oh, Combat Crab, this would be a Perfect Mother's Day present...
http://www.storypeople.com/storypeople/PageInclude.do?path=/doc/dig/charms.html
Oh, Combat Crab, this would be a Perfect Mother's Day present...
Video: "Da-Da"
Before anyone panics that we will be short a photo of LCDR Crab, know that we have enough copies in reserve to wallpaper not just the galley kitchen but also the galley laundry room and the galley bathroom.
Whew!
Crabby Review: Cheetos (TM) Giant
Never let the word "NEW" emblazoned upon a package sway you.
Especially when it is not accompanied by the word "IMPROVED".
GMK purchased this product when all Cheetos (TM) products were on special for $2.25/each.
After overcoming my shock and awe (each "puff" is about 1-1/2" in diameter), I about shredded my gum trying to bite into it.
GMK and I concur that the completely fake and processed cheesiness to completely fake and processed crunchiness ratio has been sent WAY out of whack with this release.
The cold, cruel fact is that Cheetos (TM) Puffs are far superior. Cheetos (TM) Balls in the blue canister are second-place. And these are last.
GMK promises, "I will not buy them again." And I predict that she'll encourage Tim's tutors to use them in the Box of Reinforcers. (Currently, there is a moratorium on including Cheetos (TM) in said box).
Sadly, I am forced to dole out a single claw rating on an otherwise trusty brand.
----
See http://www.taquitos.net/cheese_puffs/Giant_Cheetos
for a competing opinion and photo of bag (so you can avoid it!).
Especially when it is not accompanied by the word "IMPROVED".
GMK purchased this product when all Cheetos (TM) products were on special for $2.25/each.
After overcoming my shock and awe (each "puff" is about 1-1/2" in diameter), I about shredded my gum trying to bite into it.
GMK and I concur that the completely fake and processed cheesiness to completely fake and processed crunchiness ratio has been sent WAY out of whack with this release.
The cold, cruel fact is that Cheetos (TM) Puffs are far superior. Cheetos (TM) Balls in the blue canister are second-place. And these are last.
GMK promises, "I will not buy them again." And I predict that she'll encourage Tim's tutors to use them in the Box of Reinforcers. (Currently, there is a moratorium on including Cheetos (TM) in said box).
Sadly, I am forced to dole out a single claw rating on an otherwise trusty brand.
----
See http://www.taquitos.net/cheese_puffs/Giant_Cheetos
for a competing opinion and photo of bag (so you can avoid it!).
Playing catch-up ball...
- The dysmorphia specialist from the Naval Hospital called last week, fresh from a conference in which our family sounded interesting to the nation's "leading X-linked" researchers. There is a test awaiting my vein's presentation at the Main Laboratory that may shed some light on whether it's the CQ's "X" contribution to the XY-crablets. There is another panel being released soon that a crablet (probably Tim) could undergo for a broader look at potential autism markers. And, in a strangely auspiciously timed request, these researchers asked for photos of the kids. Lo, did the CQ just get everyone portraited!? Yes, the aqua photos are being used in the service of Science and the Greater Good.
- Lucy has made the acquaintance of Sweet Potatoes.
- SAND! I totally overlooked that today is "Take Your Kids to Work Day". Not that I'd need such an occasion on the heels of "Keep Your Kids Home Week" (aka, Spring "Break"). However, I'm super-bummed that the J-crabs couldn't just jet off to Baghdad and take in a "Day in the Life of Combat Crab".
- Lucy is cruising, officially. Pulls up on the couch and then gingerly scuttles along.
I should have predicted that, as a proud and clever member of the Crab Family, sidewise locomotion would have been a relative strength for her.
- Medi-Cal (required for Tim's and Charlie's eligibility for Institutional Deeming) re-certification in progress. It is worse than filing taxes and there's no refund on the other side of the mountain. Stay tuned for Monday, when I will regale readers with my Freedom Search (required to present original birth certificates to verify Tim and Charles).
- Lucy's making a lot of "Da-da-da" noises. When I finally reach the Year of the Baby Book Catch-up (c. 2015), I will be able to find this note and annotate "babbling".
- Pleased to report that Costco stands by its products. The much-depended-upon Aerobed (TM) sounded like the motor was on the decline. There's a 2-year warranty. Presented myself and said Aerobed (with all the paperwork and boxes...quite a Castle miracle) and left with a new Aerobed and a partial refund of money, as the price has fallen since the original purchase. Score one for the Castle.
- Experimentation on a Human Subject file: LLGA doesn't generally "come" when called yet. BUT, never fear, we have found a motivator:
bowl o' cheetos.
Kid you not, flash a bowl of that puffy, orange-not-found-in-nature goodness at her eye level (say, 18" from the floor) and she will Crawl with a Purpose and Velocity not otherwise displayed.
- Jamie's game on Tuesday. The best of all outcomes (well, aside from WINNING): it was a tie. She does remember that he smacked a triple (aka, a double and an overthrow) AND 2 runs came in.
- Speaking of Jamie, here's some action-shots of him pitching last Saturday:
- Under strong encouragement from GMK -- make that enhanced suggestive techniques administered by GMK, we retired most of our stainless steel cookware from our 1993 wedding. Rachael Ray's hard-anodized nonstick cookware with fun orange silicon holders and glass lids are gracing my recently-organized singular (it's a galley kitchen, remember) cupboard.
The 3-qt./10" saute pan was unpackaged and discovered to be irregular. 
See the warping around 7 to 8 o'clock in this photo? Kudos to RR's manufacturer who is shipping a replacement ASAP to the Castle.
- Jack's game on Wednesday. The CQ and her entourage actually showed up. GMK, LLGA, J-crab, Jr. and me. Alas, we got there for the 3rd inning, missing the chance to watch Jack stand in Right Field and not "get any action" and he didn't hit at all, because inter-league play means that only the 9 players on the field hit. It was his turn to bench-ride. Oh, well, LLGA had fun watching all the action and the rest of us inhaled hot chocolate with whipped cream. Jack's team lost to the best team in the other league.
- Just back from Lucy's flu shot appointment (for her "booster"). Combat Crab, it was a single-dose unit (which I inspected) that is free of thimerosol. The stunning part -- besides her 24 lb. 2.8 oz. weight -- is that she stared the med assistant in training down and didn't wah or even flinch. Maybe she can Train Jack in tear-free endurance of Enhanced Innoculation Techniques.
- My new computer is great!
- LLGA is officially into EVERYTHING. God forbid the CQ is ever tasked to complete developmental paperwork, I will be circling the "Leaves a Trail of Destruction in Her Wake" (an actual item in some psychological rating scale)! She is pulling stuff down upon her and grinning broadly at the mess she -- SHE -- created as well as the sudden flurry of activity brought forth in the clean-up effort.
- GMK has boldly introduced her own addition to the Castle's Crabby apparel line:
(It's a Joe's Crab Shack t-shirt). I know, I know -- Where has she been hiding this? Why did she wait so long to sink to our level of discourse and crabbiness?? Answer: She just brought it back from her latest foray to Illinois to prove to Jamie that she had it. In fact, this garment is now in the Regular GMK Rotation and is being flaunted about every other day.
- Lucy has made the acquaintance of Sweet Potatoes.
- SAND! I totally overlooked that today is "Take Your Kids to Work Day". Not that I'd need such an occasion on the heels of "Keep Your Kids Home Week" (aka, Spring "Break"). However, I'm super-bummed that the J-crabs couldn't just jet off to Baghdad and take in a "Day in the Life of Combat Crab".
- Lucy is cruising, officially. Pulls up on the couch and then gingerly scuttles along.
I should have predicted that, as a proud and clever member of the Crab Family, sidewise locomotion would have been a relative strength for her.- Medi-Cal (required for Tim's and Charlie's eligibility for Institutional Deeming) re-certification in progress. It is worse than filing taxes and there's no refund on the other side of the mountain. Stay tuned for Monday, when I will regale readers with my Freedom Search (required to present original birth certificates to verify Tim and Charles).
- Lucy's making a lot of "Da-da-da" noises. When I finally reach the Year of the Baby Book Catch-up (c. 2015), I will be able to find this note and annotate "babbling".
- Pleased to report that Costco stands by its products. The much-depended-upon Aerobed (TM) sounded like the motor was on the decline. There's a 2-year warranty. Presented myself and said Aerobed (with all the paperwork and boxes...quite a Castle miracle) and left with a new Aerobed and a partial refund of money, as the price has fallen since the original purchase. Score one for the Castle.
- Experimentation on a Human Subject file: LLGA doesn't generally "come" when called yet. BUT, never fear, we have found a motivator:
bowl o' cheetos.
Kid you not, flash a bowl of that puffy, orange-not-found-in-nature goodness at her eye level (say, 18" from the floor) and she will Crawl with a Purpose and Velocity not otherwise displayed.
- Jamie's game on Tuesday. The best of all outcomes (well, aside from WINNING): it was a tie. She does remember that he smacked a triple (aka, a double and an overthrow) AND 2 runs came in.
- Speaking of Jamie, here's some action-shots of him pitching last Saturday:
- Under strong encouragement from GMK -- make that enhanced suggestive techniques administered by GMK, we retired most of our stainless steel cookware from our 1993 wedding. Rachael Ray's hard-anodized nonstick cookware with fun orange silicon holders and glass lids are gracing my recently-organized singular (it's a galley kitchen, remember) cupboard.
The 3-qt./10" saute pan was unpackaged and discovered to be irregular. 
See the warping around 7 to 8 o'clock in this photo? Kudos to RR's manufacturer who is shipping a replacement ASAP to the Castle. - Jack's game on Wednesday. The CQ and her entourage actually showed up. GMK, LLGA, J-crab, Jr. and me. Alas, we got there for the 3rd inning, missing the chance to watch Jack stand in Right Field and not "get any action" and he didn't hit at all, because inter-league play means that only the 9 players on the field hit. It was his turn to bench-ride. Oh, well, LLGA had fun watching all the action and the rest of us inhaled hot chocolate with whipped cream. Jack's team lost to the best team in the other league.
- Just back from Lucy's flu shot appointment (for her "booster"). Combat Crab, it was a single-dose unit (which I inspected) that is free of thimerosol. The stunning part -- besides her 24 lb. 2.8 oz. weight -- is that she stared the med assistant in training down and didn't wah or even flinch. Maybe she can Train Jack in tear-free endurance of Enhanced Innoculation Techniques.
- My new computer is great!
- LLGA is officially into EVERYTHING. God forbid the CQ is ever tasked to complete developmental paperwork, I will be circling the "Leaves a Trail of Destruction in Her Wake" (an actual item in some psychological rating scale)! She is pulling stuff down upon her and grinning broadly at the mess she -- SHE -- created as well as the sudden flurry of activity brought forth in the clean-up effort.
- GMK has boldly introduced her own addition to the Castle's Crabby apparel line:
(It's a Joe's Crab Shack t-shirt). I know, I know -- Where has she been hiding this? Why did she wait so long to sink to our level of discourse and crabbiness?? Answer: She just brought it back from her latest foray to Illinois to prove to Jamie that she had it. In fact, this garment is now in the Regular GMK Rotation and is being flaunted about every other day.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Beth and Teresa.
Over the last four years, there have been two women who have done more to teach me about the kind of mother I want to be for Tim and Charlie than they intended or could have guessed. Neither of these women is a mom herself. And each of them has a developmental disability.
I met them when I joined a multi-county board. They were the "consumers". By "consumers", one can only conclude "consumers of goods and services" in the classic economic model. Beth and Teresa.
About three years ago, Beth asked to be nominated for Chairperson of our Board. It was my pleasure to nominate her. And it was a joy to see her elected and serve. No, her service was not necessarily equal in all respects to the non-disabled and supremely skilled chair who would follow her. But her service was infused with an enthusiasm and pride that would be difficult to match.
A couple of years ago, when friends on this Board were few, I pulled into the parking lot of our meeting location and was about to dig in to a trio of Taco Bell tacos and a soda and saw Teresa walking from the bus stop. I rolled down the window and said "hello" and realized that Teresa was staring at my bag. "Sure" she'd take a taco. By the time we entered the meeting room, it was obvious that my bucket o' soda needed to be divided up, too. Somehow it was humbling for me to realize that the person I'd always considered to be "neediest" had qualities still under-development in me: Self-confidence; Self-awareness; and Kindness.
We were all born in the early 1970's ... Beth, Teresa and me. I reflected how such a roll of the genetic dice had sent me on one sheltered, privileged path and these two women on a different sort of path -- a whole different kind of sheltered. And I knew that only another roll of the genetic dice -- twice-over -- had brought us together. Not because I'm a noble or altruistic person (though I'd like to be) but because my eyes were opened to a population I'd conveniently avoided until it populated my Castle.
Since the Pepsi brought us together, I learned that Teresa was a student at Grossmont College, worked at Michael's Craft Store, and was incredibly active (an officer and state representative) for People First (a self-advocacy group). She, unlike the Crab Queen, attended church EVERY Sunday and was active in the Special Olympics. All I could manage at the time was being a stay-home mom. Beth and Teresa were my primary educators for the idea of "independent living", as they'd talk about finding the right roommate, the right apartment and of course the right rent. A place that was near work and near the right bus stop. Most days, of course, I find plenty to whine about the Castle and even the lowly Windstar; however, not many times have I had to literally fret about the city bus routes being eliminated for low-ridership.
Beth's term expired a year ago. Teresa's expired this past winter. With each Board meeting, I felt like we were missing more and more the perspective that comes with having a constituent present, looking at us. And, sure enough, without Teresa and Beth, personalities have supplanted the cause. "Nothing about me without me" is a phrase that Patty SW imparted to me. Somehow I don't think Beth and Teresa would have been very interested in "conflict of interest" and "e-mail etiquette" trainings. Beth and Teresa would have said, "Will those help me find an IHSS worker to help me pay my bills?" and "Will those things get the bus to come on time for me to get to my job?"
Yesterday, I received a call that Teresa had passed away sometime over the weekend. When she didn't come to work, her mother drove to her apartment and found her. The initial cause of death appears to be seizure. Obviously, this story hits close to home.
Yet her mom -- the day after finding her daughter deceased -- was able to focus on two points: "that Teresa was very excited to be starting a new job, and had lived the life she wanted."
Teresa's family has decided not to have a memorial service. I'm saddened thinking that the gregarious Teresa's life will not have a celebration her non-blood family would have desired. By the same token, this family raised a woman who loved life -- all of it -- disability and all.
Selfishly, 35 years was too short a time for her. I have too much more to learn.
I met them when I joined a multi-county board. They were the "consumers". By "consumers", one can only conclude "consumers of goods and services" in the classic economic model. Beth and Teresa.
About three years ago, Beth asked to be nominated for Chairperson of our Board. It was my pleasure to nominate her. And it was a joy to see her elected and serve. No, her service was not necessarily equal in all respects to the non-disabled and supremely skilled chair who would follow her. But her service was infused with an enthusiasm and pride that would be difficult to match.
A couple of years ago, when friends on this Board were few, I pulled into the parking lot of our meeting location and was about to dig in to a trio of Taco Bell tacos and a soda and saw Teresa walking from the bus stop. I rolled down the window and said "hello" and realized that Teresa was staring at my bag. "Sure" she'd take a taco. By the time we entered the meeting room, it was obvious that my bucket o' soda needed to be divided up, too. Somehow it was humbling for me to realize that the person I'd always considered to be "neediest" had qualities still under-development in me: Self-confidence; Self-awareness; and Kindness.
We were all born in the early 1970's ... Beth, Teresa and me. I reflected how such a roll of the genetic dice had sent me on one sheltered, privileged path and these two women on a different sort of path -- a whole different kind of sheltered. And I knew that only another roll of the genetic dice -- twice-over -- had brought us together. Not because I'm a noble or altruistic person (though I'd like to be) but because my eyes were opened to a population I'd conveniently avoided until it populated my Castle.
Since the Pepsi brought us together, I learned that Teresa was a student at Grossmont College, worked at Michael's Craft Store, and was incredibly active (an officer and state representative) for People First (a self-advocacy group). She, unlike the Crab Queen, attended church EVERY Sunday and was active in the Special Olympics. All I could manage at the time was being a stay-home mom. Beth and Teresa were my primary educators for the idea of "independent living", as they'd talk about finding the right roommate, the right apartment and of course the right rent. A place that was near work and near the right bus stop. Most days, of course, I find plenty to whine about the Castle and even the lowly Windstar; however, not many times have I had to literally fret about the city bus routes being eliminated for low-ridership.
Beth's term expired a year ago. Teresa's expired this past winter. With each Board meeting, I felt like we were missing more and more the perspective that comes with having a constituent present, looking at us. And, sure enough, without Teresa and Beth, personalities have supplanted the cause. "Nothing about me without me" is a phrase that Patty SW imparted to me. Somehow I don't think Beth and Teresa would have been very interested in "conflict of interest" and "e-mail etiquette" trainings. Beth and Teresa would have said, "Will those help me find an IHSS worker to help me pay my bills?" and "Will those things get the bus to come on time for me to get to my job?"
Yesterday, I received a call that Teresa had passed away sometime over the weekend. When she didn't come to work, her mother drove to her apartment and found her. The initial cause of death appears to be seizure. Obviously, this story hits close to home.
Yet her mom -- the day after finding her daughter deceased -- was able to focus on two points: "that Teresa was very excited to be starting a new job, and had lived the life she wanted."
Teresa's family has decided not to have a memorial service. I'm saddened thinking that the gregarious Teresa's life will not have a celebration her non-blood family would have desired. By the same token, this family raised a woman who loved life -- all of it -- disability and all.
Selfishly, 35 years was too short a time for her. I have too much more to learn.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Dude, I've got a Dell (TM)...Finally!
As of Monday, 1230, I'm operational. The iBook is properly stowed in its rightful location (Ben's closet). My new BFF Robert was here for in excess of 3 hours to transfer data from the deceased desktop, upload Kodak photo software, and fight the demonic HP printer driver and software (before 2-1/2 hours into the project, I located the installation CD).
It is sleek. Unbeknownst to me (who was in my body during the time I placed the order), I have wireless keyboard and mouse so there's hardly any cords. Whatever will I do with the desktop? Oh, yeah...fill it with piles of paper!
Photo to follow.
-----------
Monday, 2100
Turn on computer and up in 21" (or greater) size is mahjong titans! One might infer that GMK is lovin' the new machine.
-----------
Tuesday, 0715:
Turned on monitor to check e-mail and realize that a crablet has been playing on my computer and I'm not talking mahjong titans.
There's a "post-it" note (TM) app on one side that I'd used yesterday to put a to-do list. This morning, it reads:
"Jack is Awesome"
If by "awesome" he means ENDANGERED!
It is sleek. Unbeknownst to me (who was in my body during the time I placed the order), I have wireless keyboard and mouse so there's hardly any cords. Whatever will I do with the desktop? Oh, yeah...fill it with piles of paper!
Photo to follow.
-----------
Monday, 2100
Turn on computer and up in 21" (or greater) size is mahjong titans! One might infer that GMK is lovin' the new machine.
-----------
Tuesday, 0715:
Turned on monitor to check e-mail and realize that a crablet has been playing on my computer and I'm not talking mahjong titans.
There's a "post-it" note (TM) app on one side that I'd used yesterday to put a to-do list. This morning, it reads:
"Jack is Awesome"
If by "awesome" he means ENDANGERED!
Story from the Lost Day of Last Week
I realized that I neglected to promulgate last week's Tale of my Long-Suffering-ness.
My Dell parcels arrived Friday. Alas, my installation appointment was not until Monday. Being as how the Castle is short on square-footage and high on per capita population, I looked about for a place to stash two not-very-small boxes.
I arrived at the concept of stacking them on the top bunk in the boys' room, thinking they'd be safe from claws.
Tim arrived home in a foul mood, which persisted due to the vacationing absence of our Pat-Zack. Finally, it seemed that we'd gotten Tim mellowed for the evening and GMK and I settled in for some high-quality TV-viewing with LLGA. The TV viewing involves lots of getting up and resituating LLGA away from an Item of Intense Interest that Would Injure Her.
After a pretty lengthy period of silence from Tim, I hear him ask "can we get your new TV on?"
I round the corner to head down the hallway, thinking we have this conversation way too often when my arthropod eyestalks process the vision of him padding toward me from the J-crabs' room with my BRAND NEW flat-screen Dell monitor in his claws.
YIKES!!
Yes, friends, the boy who hollers for help to double-knot his shoes, adjust the shower water temperature, open a bottle of Gatorade(TM), et cetera, managed to independently sniff out the unobtrusive Dell box, hoist it off of the top bunk, open the tape and remove plenty of styrofoam and other plastic packaging.
He seemed genuinely horrified to learn that it wasn't Tim's Lucky Day. As I type, there is a gigantic claw print on the side of my otherwise pristine monitor...a tribute to the Big Sled Dog's initiative.
My Dell parcels arrived Friday. Alas, my installation appointment was not until Monday. Being as how the Castle is short on square-footage and high on per capita population, I looked about for a place to stash two not-very-small boxes.
I arrived at the concept of stacking them on the top bunk in the boys' room, thinking they'd be safe from claws.
Tim arrived home in a foul mood, which persisted due to the vacationing absence of our Pat-Zack. Finally, it seemed that we'd gotten Tim mellowed for the evening and GMK and I settled in for some high-quality TV-viewing with LLGA. The TV viewing involves lots of getting up and resituating LLGA away from an Item of Intense Interest that Would Injure Her.
After a pretty lengthy period of silence from Tim, I hear him ask "can we get your new TV on?"
I round the corner to head down the hallway, thinking we have this conversation way too often when my arthropod eyestalks process the vision of him padding toward me from the J-crabs' room with my BRAND NEW flat-screen Dell monitor in his claws.
YIKES!!
Yes, friends, the boy who hollers for help to double-knot his shoes, adjust the shower water temperature, open a bottle of Gatorade(TM), et cetera, managed to independently sniff out the unobtrusive Dell box, hoist it off of the top bunk, open the tape and remove plenty of styrofoam and other plastic packaging.
He seemed genuinely horrified to learn that it wasn't Tim's Lucky Day. As I type, there is a gigantic claw print on the side of my otherwise pristine monitor...a tribute to the Big Sled Dog's initiative.
Overheard on the Crablet's Bus This Morning
Charlie-boy rides the bus with a very observant, very chatty girl we shall call "BeBe". Bebe is in Charlie's class at school and is the only other bus-rider we see in the mornings.
Bebe is as talkative as Charlie-boy is quiet. Bebe knows everyone in the Castle and keeps track of our latest visitors as well as tracks Charlie-boy's illness/attendance.
She asks "Where's Charlie's grandma?" "When's Charlie's aunt coming back?" "Does Charlie have a daddy?" "What kind of Illness did Charlie have?" And so on...ad infinitum.
This morning, I whisked Charlie-boy to the bus with LLGA on my hip.
You could almost hear the wheels buzz in Bebe's brain with excitement: "FRESH MEAT...a NEW topic!"
As the door opened, Bebe was ready:
"Is that Charlie's SISTER?"
Yes.
"She sure is CHUNKY!"
Did you say chubby?
"Chun-KEEEY! But she's chub-BBBY, too!!"
Well, yes she is.
"Those both mean kind of FAT."
Thank you, Bebe. She IS chunky and chubby.
"I looked just like that when I was a baby!"
Have a good day at school, Bebe and Charlie.
I swear Charlie rolled his eyes at me, like "See what I put up with all day?"
Bebe is as talkative as Charlie-boy is quiet. Bebe knows everyone in the Castle and keeps track of our latest visitors as well as tracks Charlie-boy's illness/attendance.
She asks "Where's Charlie's grandma?" "When's Charlie's aunt coming back?" "Does Charlie have a daddy?" "What kind of Illness did Charlie have?" And so on...ad infinitum.
This morning, I whisked Charlie-boy to the bus with LLGA on my hip.
You could almost hear the wheels buzz in Bebe's brain with excitement: "FRESH MEAT...a NEW topic!"
As the door opened, Bebe was ready:
"Is that Charlie's SISTER?"
Yes.
"She sure is CHUNKY!"
Did you say chubby?
"Chun-KEEEY! But she's chub-BBBY, too!!"
Well, yes she is.
"Those both mean kind of FAT."
Thank you, Bebe. She IS chunky and chubby.
"I looked just like that when I was a baby!"
Have a good day at school, Bebe and Charlie.
I swear Charlie rolled his eyes at me, like "See what I put up with all day?"
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Sunday, April 19: A Grievance
Followers of the Castle know that it is a challenge for the CQ to achieve the ideal Mass attendance. This morning, after ANOTHER overnight with multiple fussy awakenings by LLGA, I waved the white towel and got the crablets up, medicated, and loaded in under 30 minutes.
Generally, the crablets were on excellent behavior. Even better than Easter.
But then, after Communion, things went south as Father Steve introduced a newly-confirmed RCIA graduate.
NOoooooooo!
Now the unwritten rule of "Open Sunday Mike" is that the speaker keeps the details to a minimum, thanks the parish for its support, and sits down within, preferably, 60 seconds. 90 is okay, but the applause is less hearty.
Today's speaker didn't get that memo. Probably because "Open Mike Sunday" unwritten rule would only be known to those familiar with the parish. Sadly, new members don't have benefit of ambient learning.
At 90 seconds, Charlie, Lucy and I were pacing outside the church with dozens of my peers.
At the 4-minute mark, my peers and I dropped the facade of pro-social behavior and commenced overt eye-rolling, undertook whispered conversations, and I believe I am the party that hissed, "This is NOT the audience for a memoir". Much nodding. Mind you, those of us outside had already lingered longer than the majority of parents-with-children. (The Crabs, esp. Big Sled Dog, do enjoy a clogging-worthy closing hymn with off-beat clapping for the choir).
At the 6.5-minute mark, a cluster of us were ready to light torches and grasp pitchforks. I mean, please, we don't need to know that your sister is 11-years younger than you or that your parents were married in a rectory. Or the various religious affiliations within a family tree. Or that your mother didn't drive. Really, how is that factoid relevant to the 50-year-old standing in front of us as I hold 48 pounds on one hip and 24 pounds on the other?
Finally, Fr. Steve took back the stage and concluded Mass.
Closing: "Sing to the Mountains"?! A decent song, but not rousing enough to have endured "Amateur One-seventh Hour".
As I trudged to the Odyssey, it occurred to the Libertarian, capitalist CQ that people vote with their feet and their pocketbooks. If this "open mike" idea is so great, then Mnsgr. Steve could:
A. Invite the parish to convene 5 minutes before Mass (when the Crab Family was already installed in a pew) to hear a testimonial*; or
B. Invite the parish to remain after the recessional procession**; or
C. Come another night and have a true "open mike", where everyone can yap at whomever wishes to participate***.
When the dust cleared and the last van door had closed us back to our family unit, I announced my intention to educate Father to Rules. Jack was waving the rally towel at the idea that I'd take my IEP-persona to the Monsignor. Namely, that when you have a "Children's Mass", the yapping needs to be diverted to the other Masses. Stay tuned for how the Crab Queen navigates those treacherous waters. Just call me Advocate for the Child-Juggling, Mass-Attending, Too-shy-to-speak-up Folks. A regular Willamena O'Reilly -- looking out for the regular folks. After Communion needs to be a "No-spin zone". I'm bold, fresh, and CRABBY.
*Except that only a small percentage of folks arrive by this time.
**Except that only a small fraction of attendees are lurking.
***This idea has some intrigue. The capitalist in me wants the "open mike" speakers to have to put some "open wallet" in the jar first. A mike "cover charge", if you will.
Generally, the crablets were on excellent behavior. Even better than Easter.
But then, after Communion, things went south as Father Steve introduced a newly-confirmed RCIA graduate.
NOoooooooo!
Now the unwritten rule of "Open Sunday Mike" is that the speaker keeps the details to a minimum, thanks the parish for its support, and sits down within, preferably, 60 seconds. 90 is okay, but the applause is less hearty.
Today's speaker didn't get that memo. Probably because "Open Mike Sunday" unwritten rule would only be known to those familiar with the parish. Sadly, new members don't have benefit of ambient learning.
At 90 seconds, Charlie, Lucy and I were pacing outside the church with dozens of my peers.
At the 4-minute mark, my peers and I dropped the facade of pro-social behavior and commenced overt eye-rolling, undertook whispered conversations, and I believe I am the party that hissed, "This is NOT the audience for a memoir". Much nodding. Mind you, those of us outside had already lingered longer than the majority of parents-with-children. (The Crabs, esp. Big Sled Dog, do enjoy a clogging-worthy closing hymn with off-beat clapping for the choir).
At the 6.5-minute mark, a cluster of us were ready to light torches and grasp pitchforks. I mean, please, we don't need to know that your sister is 11-years younger than you or that your parents were married in a rectory. Or the various religious affiliations within a family tree. Or that your mother didn't drive. Really, how is that factoid relevant to the 50-year-old standing in front of us as I hold 48 pounds on one hip and 24 pounds on the other?
Finally, Fr. Steve took back the stage and concluded Mass.
Closing: "Sing to the Mountains"?! A decent song, but not rousing enough to have endured "Amateur One-seventh Hour".
As I trudged to the Odyssey, it occurred to the Libertarian, capitalist CQ that people vote with their feet and their pocketbooks. If this "open mike" idea is so great, then Mnsgr. Steve could:
A. Invite the parish to convene 5 minutes before Mass (when the Crab Family was already installed in a pew) to hear a testimonial*; or
B. Invite the parish to remain after the recessional procession**; or
C. Come another night and have a true "open mike", where everyone can yap at whomever wishes to participate***.
When the dust cleared and the last van door had closed us back to our family unit, I announced my intention to educate Father to Rules. Jack was waving the rally towel at the idea that I'd take my IEP-persona to the Monsignor. Namely, that when you have a "Children's Mass", the yapping needs to be diverted to the other Masses. Stay tuned for how the Crab Queen navigates those treacherous waters. Just call me Advocate for the Child-Juggling, Mass-Attending, Too-shy-to-speak-up Folks. A regular Willamena O'Reilly -- looking out for the regular folks. After Communion needs to be a "No-spin zone". I'm bold, fresh, and CRABBY.
*Except that only a small percentage of folks arrive by this time.
**Except that only a small fraction of attendees are lurking.
***This idea has some intrigue. The capitalist in me wants the "open mike" speakers to have to put some "open wallet" in the jar first. A mike "cover charge", if you will.
Saturday, April 18th
At 6:41 a.m., the SCS (Sand Castle Ship) Odyssey set forth to deposit Jack at Qualcomm Stadium to work a 7-9 a.m. shift at the Scout Fair with his Troop.
Home again, fed LLGA, and set forth on a second voyage of Love & Scouting to fetch him.
----
At 12:25 p.m., GMK dropped Jamie at his ball game en route to a far-away middle school so that Jack could participate in the District Band Festival. His group received unanimous "Superior".
At 1:47 p.m., I reported to the LL fields to witness Jamie's game. While LLGA dozed, I chatted with other parents for a couple of innings. Scary, social butterfly moment. Then I reverted to intense LL mom, overhearing *my* son grab-fannying in the dug-out. And then it was his inning to pitch. Poor Jaime (hi-me), to have to endure the laser-beam of his mother's spectatorship. He walked two, struck out three, and made one throwing error/mental error from the mound. On the plus side, he did strike out three. However, on the minus side, he was gloating about his strike-out tally to teammates, and his coach, and frankly, the springtime pollen if it was listening.
At 3:30 p.m., the 1 p.m. start game was still in progress. Moms were gathering near me by the dug-out. "Blue" (as we call the umpire, who was wearing a white shirt) asked if we wanted to continue into an "open inning", meaning keep going. Before our coaches (men) could respond, about four or five long-haired heads adopted no-shell expressions and shook our heads firmly. In unison. Apparently, that line drawn in the sand was just what the little Cubbies needed as they suddenly pulled their collective heads out of the sand dunes and scored enough to win by 1 run.
At 3:49 p.m., I pulled into the driveway.
At 3:52 p.m., GMK and Jack returned.
Fed LLGA a rushed appetizer of rice cereal, supervised a mass costume change of crablets and their queen, and loaded up in the SCS Odyssey once more.
---------
Presented our clan at St. B's hall only 12 minutes late for the Military Appreciation Dinner. Saw a neighbor family, met another neighbor, and got to know one of Jamie's teammates' parents. It was a catered Hawaiian meal. Tasty. The Knights of Columbus had the bar going, too. I joked that they didn't have anything "hard" enough for me and they looked a bit panicked that wine and beer options weren't good enough...then they took in the sight of the 5 crablets.
As the saying goes, "Hug a Military Wife...Or Give Her Liquor".
Of course, these events always require a bit of public speaking. After 4 active duty males had orated, I received the prompt. I cleared my throat, and lowered my voice (into the "Tim model" octave) and said, "Hi. I'm Ben Allbritton." Feeble attempt at humor followed up with a sincere introduction of GMK and a request that people "please say hi to Mary Kay when you see her as she single-handedly ensures that this [flailing gesture toward table of crablets] gets to CCD on time, attends Mass weekly, and um, eats dinner routinely."
Best of all, there were mini-cupcakes.
Strike that, best of all, our hosts insisted that we take left-overs home and I volunteered to take the cupcakes.
----------
Home again, fed LLGA, and set forth on a second voyage of Love & Scouting to fetch him.
----
At 12:25 p.m., GMK dropped Jamie at his ball game en route to a far-away middle school so that Jack could participate in the District Band Festival. His group received unanimous "Superior".
At 1:47 p.m., I reported to the LL fields to witness Jamie's game. While LLGA dozed, I chatted with other parents for a couple of innings. Scary, social butterfly moment. Then I reverted to intense LL mom, overhearing *my* son grab-fannying in the dug-out. And then it was his inning to pitch. Poor Jaime (hi-me), to have to endure the laser-beam of his mother's spectatorship. He walked two, struck out three, and made one throwing error/mental error from the mound. On the plus side, he did strike out three. However, on the minus side, he was gloating about his strike-out tally to teammates, and his coach, and frankly, the springtime pollen if it was listening.
At 3:30 p.m., the 1 p.m. start game was still in progress. Moms were gathering near me by the dug-out. "Blue" (as we call the umpire, who was wearing a white shirt) asked if we wanted to continue into an "open inning", meaning keep going. Before our coaches (men) could respond, about four or five long-haired heads adopted no-shell expressions and shook our heads firmly. In unison. Apparently, that line drawn in the sand was just what the little Cubbies needed as they suddenly pulled their collective heads out of the sand dunes and scored enough to win by 1 run.
At 3:49 p.m., I pulled into the driveway.
At 3:52 p.m., GMK and Jack returned.
Fed LLGA a rushed appetizer of rice cereal, supervised a mass costume change of crablets and their queen, and loaded up in the SCS Odyssey once more.
---------
Presented our clan at St. B's hall only 12 minutes late for the Military Appreciation Dinner. Saw a neighbor family, met another neighbor, and got to know one of Jamie's teammates' parents. It was a catered Hawaiian meal. Tasty. The Knights of Columbus had the bar going, too. I joked that they didn't have anything "hard" enough for me and they looked a bit panicked that wine and beer options weren't good enough...then they took in the sight of the 5 crablets.
As the saying goes, "Hug a Military Wife...Or Give Her Liquor".
Of course, these events always require a bit of public speaking. After 4 active duty males had orated, I received the prompt. I cleared my throat, and lowered my voice (into the "Tim model" octave) and said, "Hi. I'm Ben Allbritton." Feeble attempt at humor followed up with a sincere introduction of GMK and a request that people "please say hi to Mary Kay when you see her as she single-handedly ensures that this [flailing gesture toward table of crablets] gets to CCD on time, attends Mass weekly, and um, eats dinner routinely."
Best of all, there were mini-cupcakes.
Strike that, best of all, our hosts insisted that we take left-overs home and I volunteered to take the cupcakes.
----------
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Overheard in the Castle...er, in the USS Odyssey (sovereign Castle territory)
CQ: Jamie, do you want a Kids' Cocoa?
Jamie: [mumbling]
CQ: Or would you prefer a Kids' Steamed Milk
Jamie: Blech.
CQ [now at the ordering speaker]: Your order, please, Sir.
Jamie: Mommy, [note ingratiating suck-uppage], I'd like a medi-an-o hot chocolate with extra whipped foam.
CQ [to the barista-dude]: We'll take a Kids' Cocoa ... and a salted caramel signature hot chocolate with extra foam and extra salt. It needs to be a tall serving in a grande cup so there's room for the extra goodness.
Jamie: [mumbling]
CQ: Or would you prefer a Kids' Steamed Milk
Jamie: Blech.
CQ [now at the ordering speaker]: Your order, please, Sir.
Jamie: Mommy, [note ingratiating suck-uppage], I'd like a medi-an-o hot chocolate with extra whipped foam.
CQ [to the barista-dude]: We'll take a Kids' Cocoa ... and a salted caramel signature hot chocolate with extra foam and extra salt. It needs to be a tall serving in a grande cup so there's room for the extra goodness.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Friday: Damn French Toast & Happy Delivery
This very morning, the Queen of the Castle installed upon her livingroom-based Aerobed (TM), reset the alarm clock (i.e., oven timer) for 6:30 a.m. This "snooze button" recalibration was due to LLGA's ridiculous number of wee-hours-awakenings.
At 6:05 a.m., there was scuffling in the kitchen. Initially, through my arthropodic eyestalks (since my eyes were squeezed closed from the bright glare of massive and sudden illumination) I thought it might be the Tallest of the Crablets rummaging. But then I swear I heard through my shell-sensor the sound of one egg after another being tap-tap-tap-cracked and then, SHORE enough, the unmistakable sound of a SANDing whisk.
What the SAND!?!
But then, oh, yes, it gets better: The sound of major excavation. Since the galley kitchen (openly connected by some FOOL architect's design "plan" of a "great room" to promote the maximum noise transfer between kitchen/livingroom/diningroom) has one whole 9 cu. ft. cupboard for ALL the pots, pans, baking dishes, bowls, and lids to reside within, to unearth one item generally involves a cacophony of relocations of pots, pans, baking dishes, bowls, and lids.
And then the unmistakable clicking and whoosh of the gas stovetop lighting. More whisking, more clanking, and now, joy, weird burning smell.
The oven timer (had the Evil-Doer taken note of its blinking countdown) still had 20-odd minutes remaining for ... me ... to ... SLEEP.
GMK looked positively stunned that I awakened in a dismal mood, casting invectives and expletives about in the direction of her French Toast Project. She claimed, somewhat lamely, that she had been "quiet" and "unobtrusive". I pointed out in no uncertain manner that there is NO such thing as "quiet" and "unobtrusive" at 6 o'clock.
I took issue with her "agenda" -- that the stale bread be used before mold spores established squatters' rights. Mold spores deserve to live the American Dream of a white, butter-topped loaf, too.
Tim loudly rejected the proffer of French toast as did Charlie-boy. I refused the French toast out of principle, too.
Not an auspicious beginning to the Beginning of another Weekend. Proof that "No good deed goes unpunished" and evidence that Auntie Patty Cake's views about the Right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Snoozing may have spread to the Crab Queen.
=======
The Dell is in the Castle. Both boxes. My new best-friend-forever, Robert, is coming Monday first-thing to install. YAY!
At 6:05 a.m., there was scuffling in the kitchen. Initially, through my arthropodic eyestalks (since my eyes were squeezed closed from the bright glare of massive and sudden illumination) I thought it might be the Tallest of the Crablets rummaging. But then I swear I heard through my shell-sensor the sound of one egg after another being tap-tap-tap-cracked and then, SHORE enough, the unmistakable sound of a SANDing whisk.
What the SAND!?!
But then, oh, yes, it gets better: The sound of major excavation. Since the galley kitchen (openly connected by some FOOL architect's design "plan" of a "great room" to promote the maximum noise transfer between kitchen/livingroom/diningroom) has one whole 9 cu. ft. cupboard for ALL the pots, pans, baking dishes, bowls, and lids to reside within, to unearth one item generally involves a cacophony of relocations of pots, pans, baking dishes, bowls, and lids.
And then the unmistakable clicking and whoosh of the gas stovetop lighting. More whisking, more clanking, and now, joy, weird burning smell.
The oven timer (had the Evil-Doer taken note of its blinking countdown) still had 20-odd minutes remaining for ... me ... to ... SLEEP.
GMK looked positively stunned that I awakened in a dismal mood, casting invectives and expletives about in the direction of her French Toast Project. She claimed, somewhat lamely, that she had been "quiet" and "unobtrusive". I pointed out in no uncertain manner that there is NO such thing as "quiet" and "unobtrusive" at 6 o'clock.
I took issue with her "agenda" -- that the stale bread be used before mold spores established squatters' rights. Mold spores deserve to live the American Dream of a white, butter-topped loaf, too.
Tim loudly rejected the proffer of French toast as did Charlie-boy. I refused the French toast out of principle, too.
Not an auspicious beginning to the Beginning of another Weekend. Proof that "No good deed goes unpunished" and evidence that Auntie Patty Cake's views about the Right to Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Snoozing may have spread to the Crab Queen.
=======
The Dell is in the Castle. Both boxes. My new best-friend-forever, Robert, is coming Monday first-thing to install. YAY!
Thursday, April 16, 2009
CQ Ponders: Recognizing Inclusion When You Meet It, A Parent's Guide
This morning I had a brief, but direct, conversation with a Director of Special Education for the a very large, urban school district in So-Cal about finding Tim a high school. Tim's case manager, a very willing researcher, had tried to contact high schools to figure out what Tim might be able to take as an elective (along with PE) next year. Recall that this issue being unsatisfactorily determined last spring led to his retention in middle school/8th grade.
The case manager reported to me that only two of four high schools would even provide her the information requested. There is a reform underway in which the District is supposed to be requiring its schools to enroll kids within individual school boundaries without involving Special education in the decision-making. On the surface, adherence to civil rights legislations is cited. Just beneath the surface, it is clear this effort is about gleaning cost-savings before the culture of pigeon-holing kids has been overhauled.
The Big Sled Dog has taken a most unorthodox path to entering a classroom typically populated by general education students. First, he was in segregated day classes as a preschooler and kindergartner. Then, he was in a segregated (atypical) school where only special needs pupils attended. Then, he was transferred into a non-public school educating only students who shared his very disability. And, only then, did he enter the world of dual enrollment -- spending most of his day learning academics in a group of one (himself) and going to a comprehensive middle school campus to mainstream into two regular education classes (with about 40 kids in each): Band and PE.
Inclusion in a school setting is hard to put into words. Far easier, it seems, for me to stipulate what inclusion is NOT.
Inclusion is NOT adults arguing about who is ultimately responsible for a child's progress. Tim's mainstream experience has reinforced for me how little parents can control this and how much depends on the luck of the draw. His band teacher, a nice-enough man I'm sure, is under-trained and over-whelmed by the idea of including a teen with special needs. In fairness, Tim on drums (even "drum pads", because that's what special ed kids are assigned to play) is a challenge. His PE teacher, on the other hand, must surely change out of his cape into gym gear, as he has demanded Tim perform like everyone else -- including stupid football plays homework -- and considers him a Dream Student. In physical fitness measures, Tim has demonstrated significant improvement. He dances. He leads warm-ups in a rotation -- no more often, no less often than his "typical" peers.
Inclusion is NOT giving one set of forms and options to "general ed" kids and no forms/options to "special ed" kids . For example, Jack (going into 8th grade and while on an IEP, because of Seminar GATE placement receives pretty typical options) has a form that lists at least ten electives from which he may select. Contrast this with another young man (going into 9th grade--high school) whose mom was informed that his "elective" would be Art because "that's what those kids take in 9th grade." At a gi-normous high school.
We used to have a saying "taking the "I" out of IEP" ... this is a new low: taking the elective right out of elective.
Inclusion is NOT telling a case manager that Tim (another young man going into 9th grade) and other students with disabilities can pick either "Engineering" or "Computers" for a 9th-grade "elective". See "Undercover Investigator Report" below.
Inclusion is NOT allowing teachers to decide which students they will deign to teach. Sorry, but if you take a paycheck to teach public school children, then you get who the public sends you. If you want to select who you will teach, there's a word for that: TUTOR. If you don't have the training or skill set to be effective, then seek out the training and add to your "teaching tool box". If you don't have the support or training or materials or whatever from your employing District, bring the problem to someone's attention. (Like Neil Cavuto says on Fox News, "If you're not getting Fox Business Network, DEMAND it.") If having someone with special needs in the classroom will "ruin your experience" or "impact other kids", then perhaps it's time to rethink what kind of experience and impact an education devoid of both sides of the Bell Curve is having on this generation.
Inclusion is NOT a pre-determination of what activities and extracurriculars are appropriate for students with special needs.
All this philosophizing brings us to the outcome of today's aforementioned phone call, as memorialized to the case manager in an e-mail, Crab Queen-style:
Dear Dr. [Case Manager]~
After several phone calls to Ms. [Director]'s office, we touched base today. I think I conveyed that I could NOT Choice Tim into another site as his placement is officially an Non-Public School (i.e., an IEP team decision). I also explained that I did not desire her personal blessing for placement decisions but rather asked only for her to clarify to staff at the various h.s. (K---, M---, C----, M-- B--) that they needed to extend you the professional courtesy of responding to your appropriate inquiries re: bell times, scheduling, and ninth grade electives. My mantra was that I wanted the team to possess full information prior to the IEP meetings in order to make a team decision.
[The Director] was pretty mortified about the "engineering" or "computer" only for students with disabilities; however, I pointed out that while it is Tim's civil right to participate, it is also my position that this family -- MY family -- need not continuously fight the good fight for inclusion with small-minded people. I'd like to find a welcoming school for him to become part of its community so that we're not changing sites mid-high school career.
By the way, Tim really wants to attend a dance next year. (This is my sincere motivation for finding a place that will "own" a student who is only there a couple of periods per day). Another Valentine's Day has come and gone with him asking, "On Valentine's Day, you [meaning "I"] meet somebody new?".
Best regards,
CQ
Clearly, brevity is not my strong suit. But ASS POWER is. The Director has "got to do more research" and will get back to me. I'll be waiting with my new, revised list of what Inclusion (or "Where My Crablet Will Go To School") looks (and sounds and feels and smells)* like:
Inclusion is starting the dialogue with all the information. Make that with all the SAME information that a parent of a student without disabilities receives.
Inclusion is having professionals who know the student well help general educators design and deliver standards-based instruction to the student with the disability. To be clear, that does not mean that the general educator sub-contracts the planning, accommodating, modifying, teaching, and grading to a "specialist" or, in sandier times, an "aide". It means that the teacher with the subject matter expertise is the teacher actually teaching our most vulnerable learners.
Inclusion is seeing classrooms, most classrooms, reflect the overall demographics of the student body. Not classrooms (including elective classes) with English Learners and "double-F's" (at-risk of dropping-out) and kids with IEPs taking a completely different course of study as taught by a completely different set of school employees from the rest of the students.
Inclusion is working when the student's IEP goals are different (and loftier) with each passing year.
Inclusion is expecting that every student will participate in his/her community of learners. Not that every student will participate in everything, but that the opportunity to participate meaningfully with non-disabled peers is considered, fostered, and achieved.
Inclusion is grading all students. Not giving a "Z" grade (as in "present" but not worth the effort of gauging progress). Not giving an inflated, "feel-good" grade. Just grading the student in alignment with his/her IEP.
Inclusion is also testing all students. Not just some students, but all students. Because we care that each student is making progress and meeting standards. Even ones with cognitive disabilities. Dare I say, especially students with cognitive disabilities so that we can identify and celebrate those teachers and instructional methods that are effective.
People are people.
All means all.
* We support multi-sensory processing when appropriate.
UNDERCOVER INVESTIGATOR REPORT: 4/16/09
When the Crab Queen called this site (our neighborhood Senior High School) and spoke with a counselor without identifying the student as a person with a developmental disability, the list of choices was:
* World Languages (French or Spanish)
* Computers
* Pre-Engineering
With a prompt, the counselor added:
* Band
* "But no Art, no Drama...those are sophomore options."
With another probing question from our crack(ed shell) reporter:
* "Yes, a couple freshman are put into ASB (student government)." But they're elected, of course.
* Yearbook
* Journalism
The CQ also extracted information that even PE is substitutable with:
* JROTC
* Athletics (as in by try-out)
The case manager reported to me that only two of four high schools would even provide her the information requested. There is a reform underway in which the District is supposed to be requiring its schools to enroll kids within individual school boundaries without involving Special education in the decision-making. On the surface, adherence to civil rights legislations is cited. Just beneath the surface, it is clear this effort is about gleaning cost-savings before the culture of pigeon-holing kids has been overhauled.
The Big Sled Dog has taken a most unorthodox path to entering a classroom typically populated by general education students. First, he was in segregated day classes as a preschooler and kindergartner. Then, he was in a segregated (atypical) school where only special needs pupils attended. Then, he was transferred into a non-public school educating only students who shared his very disability. And, only then, did he enter the world of dual enrollment -- spending most of his day learning academics in a group of one (himself) and going to a comprehensive middle school campus to mainstream into two regular education classes (with about 40 kids in each): Band and PE.
Inclusion in a school setting is hard to put into words. Far easier, it seems, for me to stipulate what inclusion is NOT.
Inclusion is NOT adults arguing about who is ultimately responsible for a child's progress. Tim's mainstream experience has reinforced for me how little parents can control this and how much depends on the luck of the draw. His band teacher, a nice-enough man I'm sure, is under-trained and over-whelmed by the idea of including a teen with special needs. In fairness, Tim on drums (even "drum pads", because that's what special ed kids are assigned to play) is a challenge. His PE teacher, on the other hand, must surely change out of his cape into gym gear, as he has demanded Tim perform like everyone else -- including stupid football plays homework -- and considers him a Dream Student. In physical fitness measures, Tim has demonstrated significant improvement. He dances. He leads warm-ups in a rotation -- no more often, no less often than his "typical" peers.
Inclusion is NOT giving one set of forms and options to "general ed" kids and no forms/options to "special ed" kids . For example, Jack (going into 8th grade and while on an IEP, because of Seminar GATE placement receives pretty typical options) has a form that lists at least ten electives from which he may select. Contrast this with another young man (going into 9th grade--high school) whose mom was informed that his "elective" would be Art because "that's what those kids take in 9th grade." At a gi-normous high school.
We used to have a saying "taking the "I" out of IEP" ... this is a new low: taking the elective right out of elective.
Inclusion is NOT telling a case manager that Tim (another young man going into 9th grade) and other students with disabilities can pick either "Engineering" or "Computers" for a 9th-grade "elective". See "Undercover Investigator Report" below.
Inclusion is NOT allowing teachers to decide which students they will deign to teach. Sorry, but if you take a paycheck to teach public school children, then you get who the public sends you. If you want to select who you will teach, there's a word for that: TUTOR. If you don't have the training or skill set to be effective, then seek out the training and add to your "teaching tool box". If you don't have the support or training or materials or whatever from your employing District, bring the problem to someone's attention. (Like Neil Cavuto says on Fox News, "If you're not getting Fox Business Network, DEMAND it.") If having someone with special needs in the classroom will "ruin your experience" or "impact other kids", then perhaps it's time to rethink what kind of experience and impact an education devoid of both sides of the Bell Curve is having on this generation.
Inclusion is NOT a pre-determination of what activities and extracurriculars are appropriate for students with special needs.
All this philosophizing brings us to the outcome of today's aforementioned phone call, as memorialized to the case manager in an e-mail, Crab Queen-style:
Dear Dr. [Case Manager]~
After several phone calls to Ms. [Director]'s office, we touched base today. I think I conveyed that I could NOT Choice Tim into another site as his placement is officially an Non-Public School (i.e., an IEP team decision). I also explained that I did not desire her personal blessing for placement decisions but rather asked only for her to clarify to staff at the various h.s. (K---, M---, C----, M-- B--) that they needed to extend you the professional courtesy of responding to your appropriate inquiries re: bell times, scheduling, and ninth grade electives. My mantra was that I wanted the team to possess full information prior to the IEP meetings in order to make a team decision.
[The Director] was pretty mortified about the "engineering" or "computer" only for students with disabilities; however, I pointed out that while it is Tim's civil right to participate, it is also my position that this family -- MY family -- need not continuously fight the good fight for inclusion with small-minded people. I'd like to find a welcoming school for him to become part of its community so that we're not changing sites mid-high school career.
By the way, Tim really wants to attend a dance next year. (This is my sincere motivation for finding a place that will "own" a student who is only there a couple of periods per day). Another Valentine's Day has come and gone with him asking, "On Valentine's Day, you [meaning "I"] meet somebody new?".
Best regards,
CQ
Clearly, brevity is not my strong suit. But ASS POWER is. The Director has "got to do more research" and will get back to me. I'll be waiting with my new, revised list of what Inclusion (or "Where My Crablet Will Go To School") looks (and sounds and feels and smells)* like:
Inclusion is starting the dialogue with all the information. Make that with all the SAME information that a parent of a student without disabilities receives.
Inclusion is having professionals who know the student well help general educators design and deliver standards-based instruction to the student with the disability. To be clear, that does not mean that the general educator sub-contracts the planning, accommodating, modifying, teaching, and grading to a "specialist" or, in sandier times, an "aide". It means that the teacher with the subject matter expertise is the teacher actually teaching our most vulnerable learners.
Inclusion is seeing classrooms, most classrooms, reflect the overall demographics of the student body. Not classrooms (including elective classes) with English Learners and "double-F's" (at-risk of dropping-out) and kids with IEPs taking a completely different course of study as taught by a completely different set of school employees from the rest of the students.
Inclusion is working when the student's IEP goals are different (and loftier) with each passing year.
Inclusion is expecting that every student will participate in his/her community of learners. Not that every student will participate in everything, but that the opportunity to participate meaningfully with non-disabled peers is considered, fostered, and achieved.
Inclusion is grading all students. Not giving a "Z" grade (as in "present" but not worth the effort of gauging progress). Not giving an inflated, "feel-good" grade. Just grading the student in alignment with his/her IEP.
Inclusion is also testing all students. Not just some students, but all students. Because we care that each student is making progress and meeting standards. Even ones with cognitive disabilities. Dare I say, especially students with cognitive disabilities so that we can identify and celebrate those teachers and instructional methods that are effective.
People are people.
All means all.
* We support multi-sensory processing when appropriate.
UNDERCOVER INVESTIGATOR REPORT: 4/16/09
When the Crab Queen called this site (our neighborhood Senior High School) and spoke with a counselor without identifying the student as a person with a developmental disability, the list of choices was:
* World Languages (French or Spanish)
* Computers
* Pre-Engineering
With a prompt, the counselor added:
* Band
* "But no Art, no Drama...those are sophomore options."
With another probing question from our crack(ed shell) reporter:
* "Yes, a couple freshman are put into ASB (student government)." But they're elected, of course.
* Yearbook
* Journalism
The CQ also extracted information that even PE is substitutable with:
* JROTC
* Athletics (as in by try-out)
Tuesday, Part II & Wednesday (all of it)
Not much "lil" about her!
Certainly nothing little from this angle either!
Here's LLGA burrowing to access Charlie's much-coveted Magna Doodle (TM).
Tuesday, 4/14 (continued)...
J-crab, Jr.'s birthday gift from the LL gods: A win for the Cubbies!
(Their second win of the season, but it's SHORE been a long time).
0 hits.
1 RBI.
1 run scored (off a walk)
3 walks.
Closing pitcher.
1 strike-out.
No runs allowed.
SAVE.
Great job fielding at 1B and OF.
But, sand-dagnabbit, it was COLD and WINDY at the ball field.
Jamie's birthday celebration: The Sequel.
After the game, GMK treated Jamie (and CQ) to Chipotle. Some leftover manna (I mean chocolate cake) and then he opened gifts.
He loved the Smurfs DVD (and I fear we'll all be humming "la-la-la-la-la-LA-la-la-la-la-LA" for the forehearable future), Aunt Patty Liz.
Wii Music game was a big winner, too, Patty Lisa NYC. 
Here he is, clutching some new Goosebumps (TM) books.
Thank you, thank you.
The little mercenary was clutching his recent mail from NFCU (savings account statement) to calculate his new balance. At least one crablet respects a dollar unspent.
Wednesday, 4/15...
GMK took Jack to the Naval Hospital for a deciduous tooth extraction. Lo and behold, there was an oh-so-painful game of telephone involving his orthodontist's office and the Navy pediatric dentist.
The private office's receptionist apparently was unfamiliar with the digits "eighty-six hundred" and recorded a telephone number as (xxx) xxx-80600, confusing all to come after her with instructions to communicate the desired (um, NOT desired) tooth location to the military dentist.
So when the military dentist had Jack in the chair he called the private dentist, only to be transferred to the "pediatric dentistry person" (vice the "orthodontia person").
The pediatric person didn't pull the orthodontia chart and so conveyed that there was no recommendation for extraction.
GMK, having forgotten her cell at home, called to report that there was a clustersandstorm in progress.
Enter CQ, who reamed the pediatric person for not checking both charts and demanding immediate communication.
The pediatric person called back to report that all was corrected, apologize profusely (for the $99/month + big down payment for orthodontia plan) and to offer up the "mom-gave-the-wrong-number" excuse.
Surprise, surprise, CQ then reamed the receptionist for not recording the number (which the pediatric person clearly was able to utilize with no issue, when provided by CQ only minutes before). And all was well...
Unless you are the boy having a close encounter with multiple doses of Novacaine. He doesn't exactly rave about the military dentist's technique ("wiggling"). Here's J-Brave:
But he rallied 90 minutes later to go Play Ball.
J-crab, Sr.'s team continues its winning ways.
He was 1-for-2 but his "1" was AWESOME, according to the Coach's wife's testimony. Jack "jacked" (his word) it to the fence for a 2-RBI two-bagger.
His team ended up winning by that 2-run margin.
He played CF and 1B. No errors. He "almost" made an error, bobbling a fly, but in fact, sustained the catch for an out.
Meanwhile, back at the Castle, LLGA is already a skilled standee.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
APC's Visit: Departure. Tuesday, Part I
APC departed the Crab Pattern. Boo-hoo. And it was before dawn. Double-boo, double-hoo.
-----
I awakened to a dozen Linda's doughnuts* and oversleeping crablets. After the 75% of crablets attending school today ** departed, GMK confessed to a brush with a friend in Law Enforcement.
-----
GMK's Castle mug shot.
Well, my friends, the words "cop", "peace officer", "patrol car", and pretty much any other whisper of Law Enforcement generally snaps me straight to Alertness. Let's consider this tale:
According to GMK, she decided to "go the Point Loma way home for the first time" [ed. note: before dawn, in the dark, with her not-very-good night vision, in order to go past Linda's least circuitously].
She made a right hand turn and was prompted with flashing lights to pull over. So she did.
The officer instructed her to pull forward more.
So she did.
The officer then said, "Let's try this again. Pull forward enough that my vehicle can also be out of traffic."
So she did.
[ed. note: By this point, one can only imagine that the officer is mentally reviewing all the various "bad driver" ordinances he might apply].
He approaches the CR-V (Ben's) once more with feeling.
Taking note of GMK's out-of-state driver's license, he inquires whether GMK has been arrested previously.
According to GMK, her response was to tilt her head, ponder the meaning of "arrested", and then say "I don't think so."
[ed. note: Pure .... comedy .... gold].
Our hero (the officer) asks GMK, "Did you see the "no turn on red" sign?"
GMK responds much more quickly and definitively, "No. I hadn't gone the Point Loma way and usually take the freeway."
[ed. note: One can only imagine the officer mental picture of GMK at high rate of speed].
He asked GMK where she was going; she recited my exact and precise mailing address. Good grief.
I asked her "Did you tell him that you were staying here helping me with my husband in Iraq?"
GMK looked puzzled and said it didn't occur to her to "play that card."
To which I said, "If not, sitting in the dark by the airport with a cop, WHEN?!"
After confirming that her record was clean [ed note: O what a miracle], he let her proceed with a warning.
----
Distracted by this tale of hilarity involving a Crab vehicle, I did not consult my log of what med I had given Charlie last and dosed him prematurely with Motrin (TM). Dutifully, I contacted Poison Control to ascertain that I was just stupid and not dangerous.
----
"Lucy, Carrots.
Carrots, meet Lucy."
LLGA slurping carrots with one of my latest "finds" -- see "Crab Queen Recommends" near bottom of this page.
-----
In a frightening flurry of errand-running (after a Spring "break"), I ran to the Post Office to return not one, but two! cardiac monitors. Then to the UPS Store to ship my grandma's photos. Then home to snatch LLGA and head to Target. Yep, it was a whopping 3-1/2-day "Boycott." (See APC's Visit: Friday, 4/11 installment for more on the threatened Boycott). And home to eat Easter leftovers.
* Minus a couple that GMK had removed and hidden so that she could sleep in. Sleeping in, within the castle, of course, means 8 a.m.
** Charlie's still sick.
-----
I awakened to a dozen Linda's doughnuts* and oversleeping crablets. After the 75% of crablets attending school today ** departed, GMK confessed to a brush with a friend in Law Enforcement.
-----
GMK's Castle mug shot.Well, my friends, the words "cop", "peace officer", "patrol car", and pretty much any other whisper of Law Enforcement generally snaps me straight to Alertness. Let's consider this tale:
According to GMK, she decided to "go the Point Loma way home for the first time" [ed. note: before dawn, in the dark, with her not-very-good night vision, in order to go past Linda's least circuitously].
She made a right hand turn and was prompted with flashing lights to pull over. So she did.
The officer instructed her to pull forward more.
So she did.
The officer then said, "Let's try this again. Pull forward enough that my vehicle can also be out of traffic."
So she did.
[ed. note: By this point, one can only imagine that the officer is mentally reviewing all the various "bad driver" ordinances he might apply].
He approaches the CR-V (Ben's) once more with feeling.
Taking note of GMK's out-of-state driver's license, he inquires whether GMK has been arrested previously.
According to GMK, her response was to tilt her head, ponder the meaning of "arrested", and then say "I don't think so."
[ed. note: Pure .... comedy .... gold].
Our hero (the officer) asks GMK, "Did you see the "no turn on red" sign?"
GMK responds much more quickly and definitively, "No. I hadn't gone the Point Loma way and usually take the freeway."
[ed. note: One can only imagine the officer mental picture of GMK at high rate of speed].
He asked GMK where she was going; she recited my exact and precise mailing address. Good grief.
I asked her "Did you tell him that you were staying here helping me with my husband in Iraq?"
GMK looked puzzled and said it didn't occur to her to "play that card."
To which I said, "If not, sitting in the dark by the airport with a cop, WHEN?!"
After confirming that her record was clean [ed note: O what a miracle], he let her proceed with a warning.
----
Distracted by this tale of hilarity involving a Crab vehicle, I did not consult my log of what med I had given Charlie last and dosed him prematurely with Motrin (TM). Dutifully, I contacted Poison Control to ascertain that I was just stupid and not dangerous.
----
"Lucy, Carrots.
Carrots, meet Lucy."
LLGA slurping carrots with one of my latest "finds" -- see "Crab Queen Recommends" near bottom of this page.
-----
In a frightening flurry of errand-running (after a Spring "break"), I ran to the Post Office to return not one, but two! cardiac monitors. Then to the UPS Store to ship my grandma's photos. Then home to snatch LLGA and head to Target. Yep, it was a whopping 3-1/2-day "Boycott." (See APC's Visit: Friday, 4/11 installment for more on the threatened Boycott). And home to eat Easter leftovers.
* Minus a couple that GMK had removed and hidden so that she could sleep in. Sleeping in, within the castle, of course, means 8 a.m.
** Charlie's still sick.
APC's Visit: Monday, 4/13
2 a.m. Charlie is sick. So close to getting a break from Spring Break and yet not so close. Likewise, so close to continuing the Crab Family tradition of illness on significant holidays. Only missed that streak by 2 hours!
8 a.m. 75% of the crablets go to school.
APC baked a chocolate cake with love and awesomeness. Indeed, she made chocolate frosting, in order to honor Jamie/Jaime's request for double-chocolate (and thereby ruining his chances of a Von's "AN" special, Patty SW).
After Jamie's baseball team practice, we celebrated with the traditional birthday singing. (See separate blog posting).
He loves his new, camo-like-Daddio cool jacket from APC
and nearly cried at the vision of a 2nd Wii controller. (See separate blog posting).
The CQ's Alias (the TV series) obsession has commenced, courtesy of APC. That should keep me FB-reduced even after my Dell arrives for a few weeks.
8 a.m. 75% of the crablets go to school.
APC baked a chocolate cake with love and awesomeness. Indeed, she made chocolate frosting, in order to honor Jamie/Jaime's request for double-chocolate (and thereby ruining his chances of a Von's "AN" special, Patty SW).
After Jamie's baseball team practice, we celebrated with the traditional birthday singing. (See separate blog posting).
He loves his new, camo-like-Daddio cool jacket from APC
and nearly cried at the vision of a 2nd Wii controller. (See separate blog posting).
The CQ's Alias (the TV series) obsession has commenced, courtesy of APC. That should keep me FB-reduced even after my Dell arrives for a few weeks.
APC's visit: Sunday, 4/12 - EASTER
She was fascinated with her glittery slippers.
Mass. We arrived with Perfect Timing to roll into a spot recently relinquished by a perky and early-rising 7:30 a.m. Mass attendee. We took photos to offer as exculpatory evidence to GMK that we were *all* present:
Home to stage an admittedly lame "candy hunt". As we herded the boys indoors from the van, Tim intoned, "Are we going to [Patty Kiki's] for the Easter Bunny?"
So we called Patty Kiki, wished her a happy Easter, and had a moment of verklempt.
Then having literally thrown a dozen plastic eggs* on the front lawn, I "released the hounds".
Pre-hunting: not the most challenging hunt.
"On your marks...get set...GO!"
Charlie with his treasure.
Having attended Mass and learned that He is risen!, Lucy decided to rise, too. (See separate posting for video).
A bunny with teeth on the bottom.
How LLGA loves standing up like every other crablet.
APC readied & served a delightful brunch (after the two adults snarfed some Easter treats in the galley):
* Breakfast Casserole.
* Monkey bread, which we concurred has been an under-utilized breakfast-carb item.
* Strawberries.
* BACON (fried and baked, for variety--actually because the oven was packed).
Ode to an APC...bacon makes everything better.
APC feeling chipper with her worth-the-hunt Reese's(TM).
Very-popular "monkey bread".
Breakfast casserole by APC.
Bacon delights.
Everyone gives Brunch a big thumbs-up!
Lots of rabbit-ears around the Castle today.
Hoppy Easter from LLGA!
Scalloped Pineapple. 
Grandma Mary's Potato Casserole-meets-APC's Potato Casserole. 
Dinner. The ketchup was for some crablets' ham portions. Tasty *and* we were definitely on T-minus countdown for SCHOOL to RESUME by this point in the day.* Purchased hurriedly and desperately but *triumphantly* at Vons after the abysmal Target outing.
APC's visit: Saturday, 4/11 + Other Notes
APC and I picked up meds from the Naval Hospital.
For our next Fun Stop, APC did the Von's pre-Easter shop while the baby and I circled the lot until finally locating a spot and watching others drive in circles. Lucy found that occupation quite entrancing. She is truly the World's Easiest Baby.
Later we drove Jack to his French horn lesson. APC and I had a grudge-match of "spite & malice" in the van. (Sadly, no photos were taken of the various yoga-contortions needed to play cards with cup holders balancing various stacks).
I made delicious burgers for dinner and then APC laid siege to the kitchen (say it with me, "galley kitchen"). She prepped and planned and staged for Easter meals. Always happy to be in touch with my inner-Eater of Other's Efforts, I guarded the perimeter. Nothing if not a "helper".
------
I may have neglected to report fully that during one of our earlier Target runs (with APC), several shoppers approached APC to remark on LLGA's cute-ness. One of these shoppers stated (and a proud Auntie quoted to a gullible, out-of-earshot Mommy), "That is THE cutest baby I've seen in my entire life...and I have a one-year-old of my own!"
Only including this note to jog my memory for the Some Year Baby Book Project and because Combat Crab should know.
------
The Parking Saga continued last weekend.
I have a perfectly lovely-I'm-sure neighbor who, alas, met me for the first time with Tim going a bit ape-sand about his teeny-tiny off-the-leash, trying-to-come-in-our-house, white puff of a pup when I was last-trimester with LLGA. His later encounters with me have been mostly auditory -- as in him in his backyard overhearing me going ape-sand at one or another J-crab's malfeasances (there's plenty to choose from, so I'm going to stick to generalities). Suffice it to say, there may have been multiple sandy words invoked. By the CQ. I haven't exactly been much of a social being the last year so I've had minimal opportunity to undo the impression of the Familia Crab as imperfect and challenged.
Fast-forward to this winter, when the 'hood had a rash of break-ins. Said neighbor took this entree to approach me (without the pup) to gesticulate about the number of vehicles that park at my quarters. "Who is that? Whose car is that?" I tried to explain that we have hot-and-cold running interventionists/respite providers/et cetera. Frankly, he was unmoved. "I do not want them parking in front of MY house." [CQ note: Because the teenagers breaking in to steal Wii systems always park their non-vehicles in FRONT of the very house they are hitting?!]
To be fair, he has a fire hydrant that limits the number of spaces in his driveway and front of house to a mere FOUR. But he has three vehicles. And with regularity, a large motor home. So he also specified he didn't want the vehicles of Unknown-to-Him Drivers on the side of the street facing his driveway either. I tried to be a good neighbor and told all the people as I saw them and remembered to try to avoid his home (and him).
Fast-forward to a couple weekends ago, when a new respite provider broke this Rule (because he was new and this Parking Rule was far from top-of-my-mind) and parked behind the Neighbor's vehicle, in a DMZ of sorts between "my frontage" and "his frontage". As I backed the Odyssey out of my driveway, I spotted the Neighbor with a very grumpy countenance gesturing at the vehicle and marching down to my house. Ever not seeking conflict (esp. with menacing Marines) and already late to LL game, I did not pause but did call the respite provider and instructed him to please immediately relocate his vehicle to avoid an ugly scene.
I did contact the Housing Office to verify whether the Neighbor was being a jerk. And more importantly, whether the CQ was breaking some sort of Housing rule. He is, I'm not. Officially. I was invited to write a letter about the problem; however, I really do not wish to escalate. You read it here first: I just want to get along and wave good-bye to his moving van someday with no further discourse in the interim. I was also informed that he is not, as a service member, supposed to approach a spouse...that there is an expectation that interactions will be conducted professionally between service members. I pointed out he's not seen my deployed service member (and that might have normally created a bit of sympathy rather than gritty territorialism). Anyway, I am ready to recite that "You are free to contact Housing to complain about my visitors parking in accordance with City of San Diego parking regulations."
Combat Crab is so much handier with putting the Face to good use.
For our next Fun Stop, APC did the Von's pre-Easter shop while the baby and I circled the lot until finally locating a spot and watching others drive in circles. Lucy found that occupation quite entrancing. She is truly the World's Easiest Baby.
Later we drove Jack to his French horn lesson. APC and I had a grudge-match of "spite & malice" in the van. (Sadly, no photos were taken of the various yoga-contortions needed to play cards with cup holders balancing various stacks).
I made delicious burgers for dinner and then APC laid siege to the kitchen (say it with me, "galley kitchen"). She prepped and planned and staged for Easter meals. Always happy to be in touch with my inner-Eater of Other's Efforts, I guarded the perimeter. Nothing if not a "helper".
------
I may have neglected to report fully that during one of our earlier Target runs (with APC), several shoppers approached APC to remark on LLGA's cute-ness. One of these shoppers stated (and a proud Auntie quoted to a gullible, out-of-earshot Mommy), "That is THE cutest baby I've seen in my entire life...and I have a one-year-old of my own!"
Only including this note to jog my memory for the Some Year Baby Book Project and because Combat Crab should know.
------
The Parking Saga continued last weekend.
I have a perfectly lovely-I'm-sure neighbor who, alas, met me for the first time with Tim going a bit ape-sand about his teeny-tiny off-the-leash, trying-to-come-in-our-house, white puff of a pup when I was last-trimester with LLGA. His later encounters with me have been mostly auditory -- as in him in his backyard overhearing me going ape-sand at one or another J-crab's malfeasances (there's plenty to choose from, so I'm going to stick to generalities). Suffice it to say, there may have been multiple sandy words invoked. By the CQ. I haven't exactly been much of a social being the last year so I've had minimal opportunity to undo the impression of the Familia Crab as imperfect and challenged.
Fast-forward to this winter, when the 'hood had a rash of break-ins. Said neighbor took this entree to approach me (without the pup) to gesticulate about the number of vehicles that park at my quarters. "Who is that? Whose car is that?" I tried to explain that we have hot-and-cold running interventionists/respite providers/et cetera. Frankly, he was unmoved. "I do not want them parking in front of MY house." [CQ note: Because the teenagers breaking in to steal Wii systems always park their non-vehicles in FRONT of the very house they are hitting?!]
To be fair, he has a fire hydrant that limits the number of spaces in his driveway and front of house to a mere FOUR. But he has three vehicles. And with regularity, a large motor home. So he also specified he didn't want the vehicles of Unknown-to-Him Drivers on the side of the street facing his driveway either. I tried to be a good neighbor and told all the people as I saw them and remembered to try to avoid his home (and him).
Fast-forward to a couple weekends ago, when a new respite provider broke this Rule (because he was new and this Parking Rule was far from top-of-my-mind) and parked behind the Neighbor's vehicle, in a DMZ of sorts between "my frontage" and "his frontage". As I backed the Odyssey out of my driveway, I spotted the Neighbor with a very grumpy countenance gesturing at the vehicle and marching down to my house. Ever not seeking conflict (esp. with menacing Marines) and already late to LL game, I did not pause but did call the respite provider and instructed him to please immediately relocate his vehicle to avoid an ugly scene.
I did contact the Housing Office to verify whether the Neighbor was being a jerk. And more importantly, whether the CQ was breaking some sort of Housing rule. He is, I'm not. Officially. I was invited to write a letter about the problem; however, I really do not wish to escalate. You read it here first: I just want to get along and wave good-bye to his moving van someday with no further discourse in the interim. I was also informed that he is not, as a service member, supposed to approach a spouse...that there is an expectation that interactions will be conducted professionally between service members. I pointed out he's not seen my deployed service member (and that might have normally created a bit of sympathy rather than gritty territorialism). Anyway, I am ready to recite that "You are free to contact Housing to complain about my visitors parking in accordance with City of San Diego parking regulations."
Combat Crab is so much handier with putting the Face to good use.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
