Tutorial in AAC Learning

Micah uses his Voice at school a lot, and it's a very good thing. In speech therapy, he's encouraged to learn to use full sentences on it instead of one-word requests and demands. In math class, he can show his teacher that he knows his numbers when asked what a 5 is, or he can count with the class using his Voice to touch each number. He's learning his alphabet by touching letters to hear what they are.

At home over the weekend, Micah gave me a glimpse of what happens in school every day. He armed himself with a highlighter (he likes the larger size - it's easier for him to grasp with his limited fine motor skills), blank paper, and his Voice.

First he'd touch a number on the Voice.



Then he'd write that number on his paper. He did most of them all by himself, but wanted hand-over-hand help with the numbers 5 and 6. I'm not sure why, though, because he guided his hand all by himself while my hand was just going along for the ride.



He filled two entire papers with numbers. It was awesome. He was so proud, and insisted on making two copies of his handiwork on the copier.



My favorite numbers are 2 and 3. Some day he will perfect his handwriting and those will be legible numbers instead of squiggles. I'll miss those squiggles then; that's why I love them so much now.

Apparently You Can't Buy Manners

Today had me out of town, driving around in places that I'd never been before. Posh was an understatement, and the homes were gorgeous. We stumbled upon a shopping center in this uber upscale neck of the woods and stopped in for a restroom at Starbucks and a sandwich at the grocery store. You know you're in high society when the Beamers and Audis are the lower end cars in the parking lot. I mean, how often do you see a Maserati in *your* local shopping center? (Around our parts, the answer is Never.) (As in Never EVER.)

We met at this point to pick up Luke, who was visiting cousins for a few days. Micah was thrilled to see his brother and spent a good bit of time talking to him in his Big Loud Outdoor I Have One Volume Voice. I smiled at the brotherly love as we walked the grocery aisles looking for portable drinks and sandwiches to take on the road with us. That's probably why I was taken aback by the lady who walked by us just as Micah started telling Luke about something important. Micah spoke (in his Big Loud Outdoor I Have One Volume Voice that doesn't say words but merely sounds) and this lady's head swiveled like something from a horror movie to stare into the face of the child who dared make that noise in her presence. I was so shocked that I had no reaction, other than to think somewhere in the back of my stunned brain that her behavior was incredibly rude.

Standing in the checkout lane, we waited our turn patiently. Luke was talking about the fun that he'd had, and Micah chose to comment on something. The lady in front of us turned around to stare at Micah, then look at me with mouth agape and glowering eyes. I had a reaction ready this time. I turned on my brightest "that's my boy and I'm incredibly proud of him" smile, then sipped my Starbucks as I turned away from her to lay a hand on Micah's shoulder.

The End

Saturday Shots: The Many Faces of Micah

After the Bath

When one gets out of a bath, restyling the hair is of utmost importance.



The faux hawk is the in-thing to have.



Having it come out right is harder than it appears.



Once you're satisfied with the results, you're free to check out the rest of yourself. Like your mouth.



And then you raspberry the mirror, because you're all that.

If Only The Kids Were This Well Trained

The puppies get "boxed" when I clean their kennel. Despite the fact that they CAN get out, they're trained not to. Sure, the independent one will make a break for it when I'm not looking on occasion, but for the most part they're incredibly obedient.

So how can I train the kids to be this good?

He Knows What He Likes

Today while shopping, I found a Micah-sized Polamalu jersey at Salvation Army. It was a must-purchase, of course. I came home and tossed it into the washer. I don't know about your house, but when something gets thrown in the wash, it doesn't always get shuffled into the dryer as soon as it's done.

In the meantime, I let the dogs out, and back in. I made supper and cleaned up afterwards. I let the dogs out, and back in again. I looked through backpack paperwork. I let the dogs out, and back in AGAIN. (Gotta love a new puppy in the house. Potty training is time consuming, yo.)

As Micah was eating his last dinner before bed, I was folding laundry. (What? Your kid doesn't eat 3 dinners?) Sorting socks, folding jeans, setting aside kitchen towels, and Hey! Look what I found! Micah's Steelers jersey! I called the boy over to show him what I'd got. His face lit up, his grin stretched from east to west, and he said, "Steelers!" (Or at least an understandable approximation of it.) He then proceeded to break into a happy dance, right there on the spot.

My boy. He loves him some football. And obviously he supports his home team. He'll be thrilled to wear that everywhere he goes.

Well That Mistake Hurt

Micah has had this crack on his bottom lip for a few weeks now. The winter weather will dry just about anything out, and for little boys who lick their lips and won't use Chapstick, it's particularly hard.



It's large and noticeable, no? Thankfully it's only seemed to bother him every now and then. In those cases, he's willing to allow me to apply Chapstick, or something in the lip gloss line. My goal is anything to make it moist. Most of the time, though, he's not willing to let me do anything with it. And if I had the nerve to apply something anyway, he'd grab a towel and wrap it around his face. That's his way of saying, "don't dare touch me again with that stuff. It's my lip and it can be cracked if it wants to be."

Tonight, at bedtime, Micah decided to show his disapproval of the time by locking himself in Daddy's closet. It was a matter of seconds before he came out grinning, holding Daddy's deodorant in his happy little hands. He shook it, he wiggled it around, he held it up for my inspection. And then I made the mistake of turning my back on him for a minute. When I turned around again, he was applying deodorant to his cracked lips.

Ouch.

He wrapped his face in a towel and laid down on the bed. Poor guy. He was quite willing to allow me to wash his face, which in itself is a miracle. And shockingly, even with special attention paid to his mouth to wipe off the deodorized lips, he's still dirty. The boy is a dirt magnet.

My Boys, My Super Heroes

At this point in the month, there are some incredible deals to be had in retail. Stores are desperate to ditch last season's things, and are practically paying you to take them. Like the leftover Halloween costumes we scored for $1.11 each. It's disappointing that the sizes were too big for Micah, but since he frequently employs his brothers to play dress-up with him, we figured it was worth it. Plus, we can cut the legs off if we need to. This was the best $2.22 we've spent in a long, long, LOOOONG time. Behold, our super heroes.



Micah was all over those costumes when he saw them, and he was thrilled to be Batman, right up until he saw that Superman had a cape. He needed to be Superman. He needed a cape.



Capes are sweet.



So are six pack abs. Batman, too, rocks.



The bad thing about the costumes being several sizes too big was the Super Underpants look going on. It was a little bit wrong.



But Super Underpants or not, those costumes rock. Just ask my boy; he'll tell you.

Hats Make Him Very, Very Happy

The Numbers Equal 4 No Matter How You Add Them Together

Here's the thing: I had a birthday today. I'm sure you all know this because of the super fantastic birthday greetings on Facebook. I may or may not have gotten more well wishes than I even have friends, and that's a lot. I am feeling the love, and I really like it.

Here's another thing: my family is awesome. I got the best cards from all involved, and my very own Nerf gun to participate in Family Nerf Night.

And another thing: Now that I'm the big 4-0, I'll be using this as a viable excuse to get out of anything. Like doing a real post because I'm tired. See? It's working already.

Number 8, Done

Micah had his 8th set of ear tubes placed today. I wasn't at all sure it was the right thing to do since my entire reasoning behind the surgery was to get more out of sedation than a tooth extraction. (Proof positive that you can take frugal just a little too far.) Turns out my trepidation was unfounded. It might have been lack of sleep that I was feeling instead. The good Doc said that he had serious need of tubes and from what I understood of her I'm-Trying-to-Talk-Medical-To-A-Layman-ese, it's a wonder he didn't have hearing problems. Or permanent damage done. There's also a name for what he suffers from, but for the life of me I can't remember what it is. Something to do with the middle ear. I think. Or maybe not. Middle Ear Disease? Is that really something?

See that part where I'm lacking sleep. It applies.

But the good news is that these tubes are to stay in until they're physically removed. Of course, that's pretty much what the others were to do and they lasted a whopping 4 months, but I am an incurable optimist and am hoping that we get a few years out of them at least.

In other news, this surgery was done at the local hospital and we were incredibly impressed with the whole thing. For being first-timers in dealing with Micah, they were more than glad to listen to the knowledgeable parents, and when I said Micah needed un-IV'd and un-banded, they complied instantly. That pretty much toned the screaming to nonstop fussing. We were all happier for it, and he was released in record time.

Cake?

God Has Quite the Sense of Humor

We grew up on farms, both the husband and I. Being raised on a farm, there is an abundance of bounty to eat. Gardens grew any side dishes you wanted to serve up beside the meat the barns produced. And I had the advantage of being raised on a dairy farm, so whole and natural milk was also on our menu. I had no hormonal additives to my food until I went to school and was forced to drink milk from a carton. (UGH, the nasty taste difference. It was like drinking water, and that was whole milk!) And don't even get me started on the meat, or whatever those burger shaped patties were.

Needless to say, people like us have never understood vegetarianism. Meat is good. It's a natural part of life. But because of incredibly vocal ads by animal rights activitists telling us that our entire way of life (farming!) was more wrong than slavery (at least the plantation masters never ate their slaves) I have an incredible distaste for vegetarians. Nobody likes to be judged based on what they eat. If you want to eat a tofurkey, more power to you. I won't understand it, but it's your perogative. And please don't judge me because I enjoy a good steak. It's a two-way street.

We raised our kids exactly as you raised yours - in the footsteps of our own upbringing. We ate meat growing up, and our kids eat meat at the dinner table right beside us. It's the way life works.

Right up until your daughter says that meat is disgusting and she'd rather not eat it. While she does eat meat, her focus is on fruits and veggies. She has cut back drastically on her meat consumption over the past year. I forsee the day that she will be vegetarian, and I will hear God laughing heartily because of the meat-eating family Becky was saddled with.

Kid Tested, And Approved

We retired a few of our corgis last fall, so out of necessity we needed to replace them. We were going to keep two puppies out of our current litter for that very reason, but a puppy came up for sale from another kennel that looked incredibly promising, so we made the purchase. (And we'll only be keeping one from our current litter. Follow how that works?)

Being as that we have 3 dogs in the house at all times, plus the corgi mom who will be in all winter with us now, Becky voiced the question on whether or not Micah would even notice that we have another dog in the house with us, and if so, how long would it take him.

I said that he'd notice, and right away, because he's my boy. He loves corgis. They are his favoritest dogs in the whole wide world. Or at least from the choices that we have here. I was right.

Micah was away when I brought Stella home, so when he came in he immediately noticed a smaller corgi running amidst the pack and honed in to claim her as his own.



He posed with her, and carried her around like he would any new toy.



The unfortunate part was that it was his bedtime, so he couldn't spend hours getting to know his new friend like he wanted. Never fear, though, he had a solution. He'd take Stella to bed with him.



He set her on the bed, then tried covering her up.



I'd say that Micah approves wholeheartedly of the new addition.

Saturday Shots. The Theme Would be Looking At You.

Teach Me, My Sons

Snow days are every bit as fun as you make them. I kind of look forward to the kids being off school because we're all trapped in the house together and get to make the most of it. Sometimes we cook, sometimes we play games, sometimes we'll find creative things to do, but it's always fun.

Today, Luke made a fort out of cards. He not only did a wonderful job, but practiced his photography skills by taking pictures of the finished project himself.



Micah knocked down his original creation, so Luke and I took that opportunity to create another one. Luke is much better at card houses than I am.



Micah, knowing that his fine motor skills weren't up to stacking cards, decided to find another activity within our proximity. He wrote his name on Luke's chalkboard wall. He was twelve shades of proud of it, as was I.



But he wasn't ready to stop after his name, and apparently needed inspiration. He raised his hand, and pointed to me. That was my signal to raise my hand, so I did. Why, look! Someone in the class with their hand up! Yes, mom? And it only took about six or thirteen more times before we realized that he was asking us to call out a letter for him to write. Mom's turn, Luke's turn, Josh's turn, we called out letters and Micah wrote them until the wall was full.

That twelve shades of proud multiplied tenfold.

Hold On

The Two Day, Speech-Inspiring Poop Saga

Micah was supposed to be in bed last night when he, instead, showed up in our bedroom with his pants down around his ankles. This is generally a sign that he needs after-potty assistance. But of course things weren't as easy as a simple wipe and send on your way. He must not have been feeling all that well because there were leftovers on his underpants, and it wasn't in the solid state. I changed his clothes and sent him back to bed. Except he insisted that I follow him to the bathroom first.

Yoi, the yuck. The toilet was a lake of brown liquid; nothing solid except a few pieces of toilet paper. I did what anyone would do - I flushed. I was a bit horrified to see it rise instead of fall, so I called for backup. That was a clear Daddy-type job. Micah seemed proud of his mess, as he told Daddy "I-ya!" before heading off to bed.

Daddy tried unplugging the mess, but it wasn't to be unplugged. There was ranting and raving and much speculation about what could be stuck in the pipes before finally deciding that locking that bathroom door until a sewer snake could be procured would be the best option.

Day 2 finds Daddy kneeling in front of the porcelain throne, threading the snake down the pipes, trolling for something solid enough to do damage. Micah was instantly aware that it was a continuation of yesterday's fun, so he said "I-ya did that." Only it wasn't that clear. But being parents, we are becoming amazingly adept at interpreting that boy.

This happened in the kids' bathroom, mind you, and I am a firm believer in making the kids clean up after themselves. The flaw in this plan is the fact that kids aren't very good at that, and I'm not very good at follow-up. The bathroom is generally avoided by adults, so the level of disgust was beyond words. Daddy put the kids in charge of cleaning after the toilet paper roll bar thingy (official name) was fished out of the insides of the toilet.

My kids were abducted by aliens and replaced by robots, and I have proof, because they cleaned happily together (all 4 of them!) without grumbling or falling to fighting amongst themselves. This has happened exactly NEVER in the 15 years we've been parents. And the bathroom got cleaned. Bonus.

Micah wanted in on the cleaning action, so he grabbed a sponge and started scrubbing the wall. Wanting recognition for his work, he showed Becky, then asked for a high five. Becky, ever the encourager, told Micah to show mom his good job. So he did. He came downstairs and requested that I come follow him. He pointed happily to the well scrubbed wall and said, "I did a good job cleaning that!" I have 3 other kids who witnessed the sentence. He got double high-fives for the good job. He did a better job with speech than he did with cleaning, just for the record.

I don't know why I'm shocked that the boy is speaking in full sentences. I mean, he's nearly 8 years old, and he's not stupid. I guess I'm still stuck in the mindset that kids learn to talk by babbling, then trying out a few words, then gradually putting a few together to make nonstop yakkity yak. That would make me the stupid one, failing to learn from my boy who is contantly trying to teach me a new and better way. But I do have the part of Proud Mama down pat.



(And also, how sad is it that puppies sit still enough for good photos with my crap lens when Micah does not?)

Some days, it's just nice to have a dog sit in your lap to kiss your problems away.

It's a Sign of the Times

You'd think that raising teens would be a "this worked for me, it'll definitely work for you" kind of thing, but it's really not. Just when you think that there's nothing new that kids can possibly do, all the rules change. Bad attitudes and disrespect and pushing limits are standard no matter the era. You'll have every generation experimenting with alcohol and tobacco and whatever drugs are current at the time. But with each generation, there's an element thrown in that you just couldn't have seen coming, or didn't know would affect the teen generation the way it does.

Can you imagine the invention of cars? Suddenly kids could just run into town and hang for the night, while still being home by midnight. I'll bet parents were freaking, having their kids so far from home, and out so late. And the telephone! My word, teens were instantly connected to a friend. They paced back and forth with that corded phone to their ear until the longer cord gave them freedom to cross a room. Oh, the convenience of that. And then the cordless phone finally gave them privacy to talk in their own bedrooms, away from parental units.

Today, the world has so much technologically advanced stuff that it's hard for parents to keep up with their teen set. You've got the internet with it's IMing and Facebook and email, and cell phones with texting, and who knows what else out there that's in the instant range and connects kid to kid to kid. It makes things easy for kids, and interesting for parents.

Knowing what kids are up to at all times is becoming extremely difficult. Not knowing who they're talking to can be scary. There are boundaries for befriending people. There are battles on time limits for internet use, and cut-off times for cell phones at night.

I long for the good old days, when teens sat in their rooms mooning over the boy they met that day, wondering when they'd see him again. Nowadays, kids are sharing cell numbers and Facebook info 7 seconds after meeting someone, and parents have no idea who these people are. Are they kids your teen goes to school with? Do we know their parents? Or is it the creepy stalker guy that works at the local movie theater that kids tend to find irresistible? My word, the gray hairs this creates.

I've never been a huge fan of technology. I am not a techie. I am terribly happy living in the dark ages. I only wish my teens would as well. Instead, I'm now becoming quite savvy at all this technology because I'm forced to monitor my kids (as any parent would). But that doesn't mean that I like it. I still refuse to text. One has their old fashioned standards to keep up.

Bath Time

On Parenting

I parented my share of toddler years since becoming a mom. When I became pregnant with Micah, we were thrilled about the new addition to our family, but I was already looking forward to the future. The future without toddlers, and car seats, and sippy cups. I was ready to move on to the next phase of parenting. The one that comes after toddlers.

And then we were blessed with Micah. At age 7 (and 10 months) he's still so much like a toddler in so many ways. And we're still dealing with sippy cups. And while I could complain heartily that we just wanted to be done with this stage of our lives, not drag it out indefinitely, instead I am incredibly grateful. See, God knows what He's doing even when we have not a clue. That's the amazing thing about God, and why we need to blindly trust when there are no clear answers.

That next stage we were looking forward to has come and gone. We are now at the Parenting Teens stage in our life. (Along with the Parenting Elementary School Kids and Parenting Toddlers stages. Big families rock.) The funny thing that we've learned while stuck in perpetual toddlerhood parenting is that patience is something you need on a daily basis, not just for big events. And that kids will push you daily to the edge of your limits, while simply trying to find the edge of theirs. And that every battle is not worth fighting. And maybe most importantly, that kids just want to be heard.

These lessons are good, because while they apply to toddlers on an every-day basis, they also apply to teens. Shockingly, parenting teens is so much like what we've been doing for years. Listening. Being patient. Hearing. Letting them explore their world while being right here so that they can come back to us. Not coming unglued by the constant pushing of limits; they're simply trying to find theirs. And realizing that even on the best days, we all mess up. A sippy cup will accidentally spill onto the floor, or a wrong choice will be made. But above all, it's the choices of the parents that make the most impact.

Did we yell at someone for simply being a kid, or did we give them a chance to learn from an experience? Did we love them at the end of the day, no matter what kind of day it was? Did we hear what they were trying to say?

Being stuck in the toddler years has been one of the biggest unexpected blessings. God is good.

Good Things My New Year's Resolution Wasn't to be Organized. Oh, Wait...

Mom, I have that doctor's appointment sometime this month. Do you know what date it is?

No. I forgot about it. It should be on the calendar. Hmmmm. I'll have to call the office.

ring,ring,ring (Becky answers the phone)

Mom, my doctor's appointment was this morning. We missed it. They want to reschedule for 4:00 this afternoon.

And that's why killing iPod Touches on a regular basis will throw you way off kilter. If you use that as your sole calendar and fail to transfer pertinent information, you're completely lost.

For Better or Worse, It's Local

Today I determined that an ENT will put ear tubes in anyone, whether it's a medical necessity or not.

Micah needs that tooth pulled under anesthesia, and we are of the opinion that if the boy is going to be sedated we're going to get our money's worth out of that experience. Why limit things to just one procedure when you can do a lot of things? Ear Tubes #8 will be installed while he's under. The ENT (whom I dearly love) was more than willing to put them in for us despite the fact that neither of us could come up with a solid and definite "yep, he clearly has a blockage" kind of reason for their installment.

Anesthesiology met with us today to determine whether or not they'd even allow our boy at the local hospital or if we should just high tail ourselves back to Children's. It was determined once again that Micah is incredibly healthy for a boy with Down syndrome. (Why yes, we are aware that we're incredibly blessed. And we thank God for it, too.) With no heart problems, no lung issues, no gastrointestinal complaints, and no spinal concerns, he's basically a normal kid as far as anesthsiology is concerned. Sweet.

So the next step will be coordinating the ENT with the dentist and choosing a surgery date, but that's between the doctors to hash out. I'll simply sit back and wait for the phone call. And let me tell you, this is soooo much easier than having Dentist A coordinate with Dentist B, and ENT A coordinate with ENT B, then having Dentist B coordinate with ENT B for a surgery date that works for them. If you didn't follow that, it's alright. I barely followed it either. And that's why we've finally decided to allow our local hospital to have anesthesia rights on our smallest son.

Life may have become a whole lot easier for everyone concerned. Now it remains to be determined whether the local docs and hosptial will rely on the seasoned parents when it comes to scheduling times and recovery procedures, or if they'll have to the learn the hard way that we really do know what we're talking about. Heading into Sedation for Surgical Procedures #9, we probably know more about this whole shebang than any single doctor does. At least how it affects our son.

I just hope that Micah doesn't learn to hate the local hospital like he does Children's. That's where Sam works, and we visit there often. Things could get rather interesting.

The Conundrum of Commitment

It appears that I'm not good with commitment. Sure, big things like marriage are a go, but smaller things not so much. I've tried and failed diets, and New Year's resolutions, and various other well intentioned things. I have a theory about this. My theory is that I've spent my will power on dealing with kids and have nothing left for more trivial things. Like cleaning out the fridge regularly and keeping up with laundry. (Speaking of which, you know your family has way too many clothes when you've been doing laundry daily for a week and have just begun to make a dent in the heap. Send in reinforcements. Please.)

But this is the beginning of January, when everyone is afflicted with the urge to recommit. Even those with commitment issues. I have determined to reorganize the house (mostly because I started that already and am still highly motivated to finish), to keep the contents of the fridge from growing legs and walking into a science experimental unit, to do more things together as a family, and to take pictures daily.

Yeh, you heard me. I've recommitted to Project 365. I failed utterly last year, and I'm not even sure when it happened. January 15th? February 1st? But when I take 563 photos in one day while on vacation, does that cancel out the days that I don't take any pictures at all? If I don't post my daily photos to my Project 365 folder on Flickr, does it count as being taken? Or is my work only half done?

So many questions; most likely nobody cares to answer.

There are benefits of taking photos daily. I've noticed a marked improvement in my own photography when I took more pictures. I guess practice really does make perfect. I'll need to practice a WHOLE lot more to reach perfection, but every little bit helps. There's also a downfall to this project. It's called lust. I have come to realize that I need a new lens for my camera to take better indoor shots. This lens is not in the budget, and by the time I save enough moolah to make it's purchase, it'll be the Take Pictures Outdoors Again season. See my dilemma?

Dear Santa, Come Soon

There are certain things that you tell kids to get them to comply with your requests. Things like "an apple a day keeps the doctor away" and "early to bed, early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise" and the ever popular "if you don't go to sleep the tooth fairy will never come." At Christmastime, these phrases of compliance become our daily mantra to get through the season with as much merry intact as possible. We are also not above making up new phrases of compliance if we need to.

Several years ago I came up with one that I've been using ever since. It goes like this:

The sooner you get to sleep, the sooner Santa comes.

It worked wonders in the calming down and laying still department. They tried hard to lay quietly, and still harder to close their eyes. But the giggling and rampant running were quelled, so I took it as a victory on my part.

It's our family tradition that the kids sleep under the tree Christmas Eve. Or on the living room floor, as Under the Tree just isn't big enough for 4 kids. Because it was Christmas Eve, and the excitement was running higher than our chimney, Luke asked if they could sleep on the floor again this year. (See: We do this every year. See also: The excitement was running high.) I said that's what we do every year, but remember, the sooner you go to sleep, the sooner Santa comes.

It was at this point that Becky said, "that makes no sense whatsoever. It doesn't matter how soon Santa arrives, we still can't open gifts until we get up."

Gee, dear, when did you figure that out? Last year?

"No. Just now, actually."

That, my friends, is the intelligent logic of a teen.

Photography Class 101

I had this picture in mind as The Perfect Christmas Shot, and I gave the kids' fair warning that it was going to happen. I was met with the inevitable moans and groans, and even a "What?! We don't read books. Especially not in front of the Christmas tree. It'll look totally posed."

My kids know that I'm all about the spontaneous captures, not posed shots. But I had this in  mind, and I was going to make it happen. I grabbed a photo book from our Disney vacation and handed it to the kids to "read." That was the most genius idea I'd had in a long time, even though it was purely by accident. The kids were enthralled by those memories, and sat through several dozen (or more...) pictures while I adjusted for lighting, and zoomed in, then out, then tried flash photography, and attempted a blurred shot... Even when I was done, the kids sat looking at the book.

That was the lesson that I learned over the holidays in Photography Class 101. Be sure the kids are sufficiently entertained to minimize the whining.