Miss Smarty Pants

Back in December, K was making out her Christmas list.  Top on the list:  Pixie Dust.  She wanted Santa to bring her Pixie Dust.  In our household, Santa makes an effort to bring one or two of the most important things on the list, but this was a tough one.  However, I'm a smart girl!  I concocted the pixie dust and Santa delivered it with a letter telling K how hard it was to get in touch with Tinker Bell and with a reminder that the pixie dust only works in Neverland, so don't try to fly at home.

I need to remember that although she has her challenges, K is much smarter than I am.

Her first response was that she could take the pixie dust to Disneyland  RIGHT NOW and Tinker Bell would put the magic back in it so that they could fly together.  Fortunately, we weren't going to Disneyland, so I was off the hook for that one.

A few months have passed and we did plan a trip to Disneyland over Spring Break.  I was hoping that by now, K would have forgotten all about taking her pixie dust to Disneyland.  That's how these things usually work with kids.  Something that is ultra-important one day becomes a distant memory in a matter of days, weeks, or months.

Not so much this time.  We gave K a new backpack to take on the trip and the very first thing she put in it was the bag of pixie dust.  Darn it!  However, as luck would have it, the night before we left, she was rearranging her backpack, took out the pixie dust and forgot to put it back in so it was left behind at home.

Whew!  I'm off the hook!

Not so fast!  She is a clever problem solver.  No need to worry.  She can just tell Tinker Bell that the pixie dust doesn't work and Tinker Bell will give her the magic and she can bring it home to practice her flying.

Uh oh.

So, being the tenacious person that I am, I am wracking my brain to figure out how to get around this one.  Originally, I planned to tell a Cast Member at Disney about the pixie dust so Tinker Bell could give her the message that the pixie dust only works in Neverland.  I decided to stick with that plan.  The Cast Member said he would take care of it and when K approached Tinker Bell, the first thing Tink said was, "How did the pixie dust work out?"  K said, "It doesn't work!  I can't even fly!"  I'm worried now because this is a big deal for K and I am hoping that Tink will come up with something clever because I clearly did not do a good enough job coaching the cast member.

Tink says, "Well, it's just for practice.  Did you think a happy thought? What was your happy thought?"

K responds, "To fly with you."

Awwwwwww.....

It all worked out okay, but when we got home, the first thing Miss Smarty Pants did was get her pixie dust and sprinkle some on her head...just in case she took a trip to Neverland that night.

Gotta love the imagination!  I hope I can keep a step ahead of her, but it is unlikely.  I'm glad S went along with it, too.  She really likes being part of the magic for K and it is a wonderful thing to see.

A Brief Pat On the Back

There is nothing more gratifying for a parent than when other adults compliment their kids.  Yea me!  I'm doing something right!  When you spend all that time teaching "please," "thank you," "may I," "excuse me," and more time on offering someone your seat, addressing an adult with respect, etc., it's nice to know that your kids are actually doing those things out in public.

*For those friends that are reading this because they found it through the Shut Up About Your Perfect Kid! Facebook page or blog, please forgive me.  I'm about to brag about my perfect kid.  Please don't flog me or take away my membership card in The Movement of Imperfection club.  Sometimes it is nice to wade in the perfect waters for just a few moments.  ;-)

I've had some really great moments in the past few weeks that are so gratifying, they must be shared.  You see, while K has enough charm to melt the heart of Jack Frost, S is more reserved, so people don't always see her warmth right away.  She needs to take time to get comfortable, time to get to know someone, before she will let you in.  Once she's comfortable, though, she is genuinely kind and thoughtful.

Exhibit A:  S is participating in the American Cancer Society Relay for Life this year.  After sending out the call for donations via my Facebook page, she immediately got a donation.  When I told her about it, the very first thing she said was, "Wow!  That's so great!  I need to send a thank-you card."  Hallelujah!  She got there on her own and I didn't have to suggest that she send the thank-you note.

Exhibit B:  Dropping S off at school late one day, due to a dental appointment, and the principal is in the office.  First, he is concerned because she is late and wants to make sure she is okay.  Once assured that it was only a dental appointment, he turns to me and says, "You have a great girl here.  She is just so sweet and has such great manners.  She's just great!  Do you have any more like her?"  This is followed by all the ladies in the office chiming in with their agreement and suggesting that they won't want her to leave after her 8th grade year next year, so maybe they could arrange to flunk her so she could stay.  Well, no thanks on the flunking, but how great is it to know that S is leaving behind such a positive impression of herself?  It's pretty great!

Exhibit C:  S & K were riding bikes over the weekend and went to visit some friends in the neighborhood.  These friends have adult children, not kids for S & K to play with, but these friends have always been kind and loving to my girls.  I received a text from my friend saying, "...can't tell you how much I enjoyed them! Reminded me of our girls in their younger days and your kids have the best manners!"

Exhibit D (and yes, my imperfect friends, I am almost done):  S noticed a new girl at school last week.  She didn't hesitate to introduce herself and invite the new girl to have lunch with her and her friends.  She wanted to make sure that the new girl met some nice people and didn't get into the "mean girls" crowd.  While some of her other friends were more skeptical of reaching out to the new girl, she didn't even think twice.  This may be the thing that makes me most proud of her.  I didn't necessarily realize it, but I do think that having an extra-special sister has inherently taught S to give people a chance, don't judge quickly, and what you see is not always what you get.

It is one of my fondest wishes that she keeps that quality her whole life.  I believe that having an extra-special kid in the family has taught us all to be more patient, more forgiving, more understanding, and far less quick to judge.  Are we perfect at that all the time?  Of course not, but when I see my girls exhibiting these qualities, I know that they will be well equipped with compassionate hearts to make the world around them better, even if in small ways.

You Don't Know Me Very Well

It was a week ago that we had our second meeting with the school team to discuss K's IEP.  The good news is that this one was far less painful than the previous one.  The teacher had very little to say...well, maybe because it was my turn.

That sounds pretty assertive of me, doesn't it?  Shut up, Mrs. Negative Classroom Teacher.  It's my turn.  The fact is, I'm not particularly assertive.  I am determined.  I am tenacious.  I will work through an issue until I've beaten the proverbial dead horse into a puddle.  I am excellent at being the squeaky wheel (pleasantly persistent, thank you very much).  But I'm not particularly assertive.  There are times, though, when I can be manipulative...no, let's call it "strategic."

In the two weeks between meetings, I had plenty of time to do more research, gather more ideas, formulate more questions, and write a whole new list of things to cover.

*side note*  It is typically recommended to dig into a meeting until it is all hammered out, no matter how long it takes.  I've decided that splitting up the meeting actually works much better for me.  Not only do I get the extra time to absorb all the overwhelming information from the first meeting, but I get plenty of time to prepare for the second.  Granted, it gives the school/district team time to do the same, but I'm okay with that.  I think the whole idea of sitting there for hours is as much a strategy for a parent as it is for the school/district team.  There has to be some strategy to just plain wear a parent out and a long meeting can do just that.  Also, I'm less emotional when I'm not so overwhelmed and it's very helpful to leave emotion out of these meetings whenever possible.

Husband and I talked about what we wanted to accomplish and decided that there was one especially important concern that we wanted documented:  K is now about 2 years behind in reading.  That affects every other subject taught in school.  In the past year, she has not made much progress at all.  The gap is getting wider, not narrower, between her and her peers.  How do you (meaning the school team) plan to close the gap?  This was strategy on our part.

Originally, I just wanted the concern documented.  We were actually at this meeting to discuss the accommodations and services.  Boy, did this concern take the meeting in a totally different direction.  It was fine, but just not what we had planned.  Is any of this process EVER what we plan?  It was our intention, though, to plant the seed that we know what is expected - K to be at grade level - and to put everyone on notice that we won't stop until that day...and probably not even then.  We want a plan; we expect a plan; K deserves a plan.

We have been working with a school team since K was 3 years old.  The team we have now is not the team we had then.  This team has been with us for 2 years now, which is long enough to know me pretty well, I think.  Certain members of the team have been with us longer, so they should know me very well.  It came as a surprise to me when our school district program specialist (aka Budget Barrier) said,

"Ultimately, it is the school district that makes the final decision on placement for FAPE, but that doesn't mean that your input isn't important.  You are a very important part of the team."

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

Dude, you don't know me very well.  Hello?  Tenacious. Determined. Smart. Educated. Well-informed. Ph.D. in K.  Do you really think, for even one millisecond, that I will allow anyone other than my husband and I to make the final decisions for K?  Seriously?  Have I ever just blindly accepted anything on the table without at least questioning it, let alone reserving (or using) my veto power?  Clearly, I'm not following the school district rules.

I may not like the barriers that are put in front of me, but I would not be doing my job - I wouldn't be me - if I just looked at those barriers and accepted them.  No, I will look for every way around, over, under, through that barrier.  I may not always get my way, but it won't be because I didn't try.  Mr. School District, I will promise you this:  you are an important part of the team and I know you have a job to do; your input and recommendations are valuable and we will keep an open mind; but in the end,  decisions will either be mutually agreed upon or they will be mine (and my husband's) alone.  Maybe those aren't the "legal" rules, but that's how I roll and it's never been any different.

I think that perhaps I am just as ridiculous as they are sometimes.  I continue to be surprised, even when I really do know better and they continue not to know me very well, or perhaps they just forget what I am like.  Whatever the case, I'm going to get a lot of mileage out of his misguided assumption about me.  Every time I think about it, I giggle.  Thanks for the laugh, Mr. School District.  I have renewed energy.  Statements like that just fuel me.  I'm far from beaten down.  Bring it!

Laughter is the Best Medicine

A few weeks ago, my day went like this:  Take K to school at 8:35 a.m.; come back home, eat breakfast; while eating breakfast, I realize that K forgot her FM system (very important for her to have in class) and it is in the backseat of my car;  drive back to K's school to drop off system and drive back home.  That made two trips to K's school in the space of an hour.  I had two things on my agenda that day:  Make an appointment to get my hair done and make an appointment for S to see the orthopedic surgeon for a check up.  I know, already you are wondering how I got off so easy to only have 2 things on my "to do" list.  I didn't.  I've just learned to set my expectations really low, since things never seem to go as expected.  This is the life of a mom, not just a mom to an extra-special kid.  Call the salon; can't get an appointment until 4 weeks past the time I want it.  Hmmmm.... two things that have not gone smoothly.  I should see the warning in that.  Call the orthopedic surgeon's office, expecting that it will be a month or so before we get an appointment.  I was wrong!  They can see her that very day!  This requires some juggling, so I email K's teacher to let her know I will have to pick her up early; I call S's school to let them know I will have to pick her up early.  I call the piano teacher to cancel K's lesson that day.  I start packing the doctor's office survival kit because last time we had an appointment like that at the orthopedic surgeon's office, he was running 2 hours behind.  Okay, all bases covered!  Not more than 45 minutes later, my phone rings.  It is S, calling from school, not feeling well.  Could I please come pick her up?  Of course I can.  Dammit.  Now I've got a sick kid AND I have to go back and rearrange our entire schedule AGAIN!  I email K's teacher...again.  I call the piano teacher...again.  I call the orthopedic surgeon...again. I felt like a boomerang - right back where I started.  I could have been frustrated, but instead, I saw this as funny.  Seriously, could it have been any crazier? Once upon a time, before I had an extra-special kid - heck, before I had any kids at all - a day like that would have turned me upside down and completely derailed me.  Now?  I've learned that sometimes you just have to roll with the punches.  I'm learning to see humor in the mundane things we see every day.

S is at that age where she is just plain silly a lot of the time.  She will find something that amuses her and before she knows it, she's rolling on the floor in full belly-laughing mode.  We were recently listening to an old CD of Disney music.  It has a whole bunch of songs on it from movies S & K have never heard of or seen.  There is one song, "The Spectrum Song," from Walt Disney's Wide World of Color (1961).  Ludwig Von Drake (voiced by Paul Frees) sings about the colors of the spectrum and toward the end, is befuddled over all the colors - including black, and green, and white and stripes and plaid.  For some reason, this absolutely sends S into fits of giggles.  I know it's silly, but that silly?  Not sure.  However, her laughter is, indeed, contagious.  It is so funny to watch her laughing over something silly that it gets the rest of us going as well.

K has always been able to make us laugh.  It is often over things that she says or does that she never intended to be funny, but because it came from her, it made us laugh.  She will come up with things that seem so out of character for her.  The other day, she came marching into the office, cup in hand, and declared, "I just went to get myself a refreshment."  Refreshment?  Who says "refreshment?"  What 10 year old anywhere says, "refreshment," let alone a speech/language impaired kid?  When the song from The Muppet Movie won an Oscar, K enthusiastically hollered, "Oh yeah!  Now that's what I'm talkin' about!  Woo Hoo!"  Seriously, where does she get this stuff?

It's a simple gift: laughter.  I find that as an adult, the opportunities for that uninhibited laughter don't come along as often.  Maybe I've just lost my some of my sense of humor.  Maybe adults have so many responsibilities to manage that we forget to see the humor in the mundane parts of life.  Having an extra-special kid helps with that.  I mean, at some point, you have to look around all the things you are juggling, all the emotional burdens you are carrying and just realize that you can't let it get to you.  Watching the things that crack my girls up reminds me that sometimes, just because we are adults, we take life far too seriously.  When was the last time my girlfriends and I managed to just be together long enough to find something ridiculously funny that makes us dissolve into tear-inducing laughter?

One of my goals from now on is to make a conscious effort to share that laughter with my girls every day.  When the challenges in life get to me, as they did after our IEP meeting last week, I will remember that these two marvelous girls find the fun in their days in ways that I have forgotten.  May we all be blessed with more belly laughs in our days!

P.S.  In the time since I began this post a couple of days ago until now, when I am about ready to publish this post, I have found that this topic is more relevant than I thought.  First, while K was in speech therapy on Wednesday, I was chatting with another parent (who is actually the grandma to another child at speech) and she made a comment about how she hasn't really laughed - really, really laughed - since her husband died 8 years ago.  She finds things funny, but nothing that gets her really going.  It seems that maybe more people than me are losing that carefree experience of the world where we find the true laughter in life around us.

The second thing that happened was that I attended my book club meeting.  We were discussing a book set during WWII; main characters were Jewish.  Although the subject matter in the book wasn't particularly funny, our discussion was spirited and punctuated by moments of spontaneous laughter.  So, to my book club girls, I thank you for giving me an evening of much needed, grown-up girl time and the gift of some really good humor that kept me smiling the rest of the night.  You girls are some super fun people and I'm glad to know you!