I promised you this some days ago, but since my washer qualifies as a model engineered to fit in Ken and Barbie's pink condo, I got myself tangled up in pre-company laundering rotations that kept me conveniently away from my computer. This whole blogging business feels like homework, although I DO like the sound and responsiveness of my laptop keys. That's a perk that'll keep me going.
I may have mentioned that every Friday is swim day for the PE kids at Westview. Tim, who has suddenly discovered within himself the ability to take all things in stride and look for the positive in the events of his life, was less concerned about navigating that first day than I had anticipated. He was way less nervous than I was, I can tell you that. Two things; he's terribly bashful, AND his version of swimming does not run along the lines of say, a Michael Phelps sort of end result. We recently went to the San Diego Zoo and those of you who had noses glued to the underwater viewing glass at the hippo display will recall that one of the hippos had his forelegs resting on an underwater rock as a stabilizing factor, whilst his back legs were afloat along with his ample backside. Just his little ears and eyes were above water, giving off a blissfully relaxed, near-napping attitude. This would be more akin to Tim's version of swimming.
When we badger him to get in our lovely pool, a pool where you can see the bottom very clearly without the application of rubber-rimmed goggles, he complains that his imagination gets the better of him in the deep end and all he can think about are sharks, which increases his breathing rate to uncomfortable levels. So, he "swims" back and forth across the shallow end, a lackluster event at best, simply for the fact that it takes all of one hop and a single arm flail to get from one side to the other.
You can see why I was nervous.
Happily, Tim's special ed team is absolutely stellar and makes accommodations for some of his anxieties. When asked if he would mind changing in a locker room with all the other boys, he didn't even let the sentence get finished before barking a surprisingly firm, "YES." Usually, his responses start with a head scratch and a "Welllllll," but he was definitely solid on his ideas about this one. So, they generously made provisions for him to change in a private, poolside bathroom; one of those that has a potty & sink and locking door. He can change there on ALL PE days, and I'm telling you, had I known such an option was available when I was in high school, I would have seriously comtemplated hailing myself as autistic as well, just to avoid the trauma of the high school locker room.
The first day he used the room was NOT a swim day, as it fell on a Wednesday, which is Football Day. He got in there, discovered the floor awash in leftover swimming puddles from some previous offender and looked in vain for a hook, a flat, dry surface of some sort to put his things on. Nada. He couldn't even use the door handle as a makeshift safety zone, because the more aggressive contingency of San Diego ants were staking claims all around the door frame and knob, as well as the sink. After waggling his legs out of his pants whilst hopping one socked foot after the other atop his unlaced shoes (with his backpack hoisted on his back, mind you), he opted for hanging his pants over the edge of the sink, not realizing there was a bit of swill left in there just waiting for the absorbing agents of an unsuspecting pair of jeans. He managed to hobble through the rest of his dressing routine, tie up his chlorine-sopped laces, stick all his stuff in his locker and was able to report later that the rest of the time was pretty fun, aside from requisite scrunches and sprints on the football field. Only, when he went to put his pants back on, and here, with typical Tim Demonstration Maneuvers, he stuck his hip out Betty Boop style, slapped his rump and said, "They were totally wet, RRRRRRRRRight HERRRRRE," blinking and rolling his "r"s for effect. But as I said, he's taking all these things in stride and not sweating it. Which is good. It's a broadening of his spirit that we are all happy to see. He's turning into an infinitely patient and calm individual.
"Bob-n-Float Friday" actually went relatively well for him, except that he mourned always being last at every event. That, and despite the two of us being the only ones in the whole upstairs of our house, he leaned closer to me, put his hand to one side of his mouth and whispered, "Oh, and, uh, my nipples really hurt afterwards." After some discussion, we concluded that this may have been the result of kickboard friction plus excessive amounts of chlorine on his poor sensitive skin. You can be assured that I beat a hasty retreat from his room at the first polite opportunity, sought out the farthest opposite corner of the house and indulged in as loud a chuckling session as I dared. I came frightfully close to wetting myself.
Ahhhh, Tim, Tim, Tim. Every day, such a sweet addition to my life. I checked with his swim teacher, and she said he's really doing fine; definitely the caboose of the pack, but she loves having him in her class; he's kind to others and takes her instruction and immediately improves. Of course, since he's starting from a leisurely float, there's pretty much nowhere to go but forward......
Til the next installment,
Candy
Saturday, August 30, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Best quote of the day
From my very astute mother:
"This earth is the only hell that a believer has to endure." That's actually a very comforting statement for any who are in the throes of suffering. I appreciate it.
You are entirely right, Steph; if Tim ever reads some of the funny things I've written about him, he might be quite embarrassed. Be assured that if I decide to submit anything for the general public, I'll respect his privacy; ie, NAME CHANGE and all that. Witness Protection Program, if it's really bad. He very fortunately, though, is blessed with a good sense of humor about himself, and knows that he is charmingly funny. I find myself dropping everything and paying close attention when he sidles up with his, "Uh, Mom? I hate to bother you, but......" Inevitably, something entertaining comes of it and I am pretty much guaranteed a smile, if not a chuckle out of the conversation.
You will all be relieved to know that he has made it through his second day of active PE successfully. Today was football, and I will admit, I was an eensy bit nervous about how he would do, because as you know, Tim has 2.5 gears only; 1st gear, which is a plodding forward motion; 1st and-a-half, which is a sort of side-to-side trotting attempt at acceleration; and the ever-useful REVERSE (back AWAY from the green peas...). However, his case manager very wisely placed him in a class with a teacher who has had several special ed kids in her care and knows how to reel folks back in from the distractions of gnats in a field, an untied shoelace or disturbingly uneven swim kickboards. In review of his second day of actual PE, Tim had the following comments: "I really enjoyed the long walk to the football field because it has good views along the way. Big sky and open spaces with no buildings. Besides that, it's nice to have a break from sitting in a classroom. And I had a good conversation with my teacher about the rules of football and rattlesnakes. Some kids have bumped into rattlesnakes on the field, but not today." KEEN.
The email from his teacher reports that he's doing fine and that she's heard him introduce himself to different kids several times. So, he's trying. He's trying. I'll get myself together tomorrow and let you know how the changing routine in the soggy bathroom went, because that requires some special vocabulary massaging to bring out the best of it........The Trials and Tribulations of Changing For PE......coming soon.
"This earth is the only hell that a believer has to endure." That's actually a very comforting statement for any who are in the throes of suffering. I appreciate it.
You are entirely right, Steph; if Tim ever reads some of the funny things I've written about him, he might be quite embarrassed. Be assured that if I decide to submit anything for the general public, I'll respect his privacy; ie, NAME CHANGE and all that. Witness Protection Program, if it's really bad. He very fortunately, though, is blessed with a good sense of humor about himself, and knows that he is charmingly funny. I find myself dropping everything and paying close attention when he sidles up with his, "Uh, Mom? I hate to bother you, but......" Inevitably, something entertaining comes of it and I am pretty much guaranteed a smile, if not a chuckle out of the conversation.
You will all be relieved to know that he has made it through his second day of active PE successfully. Today was football, and I will admit, I was an eensy bit nervous about how he would do, because as you know, Tim has 2.5 gears only; 1st gear, which is a plodding forward motion; 1st and-a-half, which is a sort of side-to-side trotting attempt at acceleration; and the ever-useful REVERSE (back AWAY from the green peas...). However, his case manager very wisely placed him in a class with a teacher who has had several special ed kids in her care and knows how to reel folks back in from the distractions of gnats in a field, an untied shoelace or disturbingly uneven swim kickboards. In review of his second day of actual PE, Tim had the following comments: "I really enjoyed the long walk to the football field because it has good views along the way. Big sky and open spaces with no buildings. Besides that, it's nice to have a break from sitting in a classroom. And I had a good conversation with my teacher about the rules of football and rattlesnakes. Some kids have bumped into rattlesnakes on the field, but not today." KEEN.
The email from his teacher reports that he's doing fine and that she's heard him introduce himself to different kids several times. So, he's trying. He's trying. I'll get myself together tomorrow and let you know how the changing routine in the soggy bathroom went, because that requires some special vocabulary massaging to bring out the best of it........The Trials and Tribulations of Changing For PE......coming soon.
Friday, August 22, 2008
Reaching Back
I don't know if any of you know this or not, but Holly is BOSSY. Creepers; she is so on my CASE. "I need to laugh; write something." It's not enough that I vacuum, dust, push the potty brush around AND cook; now I have to be a source of entertainment too. I can't take the pressure.
I have no imagination whatsoever today, but I thumbed through my old emails and found a little snippet from last year, when I was industriously employed in a narrow cubical at Cellfire, floundering around in the minutia of the Excel world and trying to make sense of the creased and dog-eared expense reports of our sales guys. There was much fodder there for writing, I'll say that, between my blundering efforts at grasping the nuances of a new computer program and the variety of people I got to work with. Here is a little peek at one of my assigned duties. Reading it brings back fond, if not eyesore memories. I DID love my job there, though I sound kind of cranky here........probably because I actually WAS.
I've been looking at microscopic numbers for the live-long day. SOME guys do NOT get the concept of preserving receipts in such a way as to be decipherable at a later date. Testing receipt durability by running it through the dry cleaners all crashed in your pants pocket does not a happy accounting clerk make. And here's a newsflash; those nifty yellow highlighters that some of these guys are using to indicate what qualifies for reimbursement are imbued with a chemical that actually DISSOLVES the ink that most cash register tapes spew out, thereby leaving a brilliant yellow rectangle in place of numbers. (Does the CIA know about this neat trick?) I gotta rev up my cheerfulness engine, jingle the sales fellows up and say, "This is the Reciept Nazi. Can you please recall what amount you highlighted on March 5th for a purchase at Fry's Electronics? At 1:27 pm at register 16? Did you use your credit card? Would you look it up on your bill please?" I feel especially productive as a human being when it ends up being a budget-shattering $7.58. Note to self: distribute inter-office memo restricting use of yellow highlighters. Hot Pink is optimal.
That's all for today folks. Hope everyone is having a fabulous day. Have a good weekend; I'm planning on it, because according to my Manager, I get the weekends OFF.
I have no imagination whatsoever today, but I thumbed through my old emails and found a little snippet from last year, when I was industriously employed in a narrow cubical at Cellfire, floundering around in the minutia of the Excel world and trying to make sense of the creased and dog-eared expense reports of our sales guys. There was much fodder there for writing, I'll say that, between my blundering efforts at grasping the nuances of a new computer program and the variety of people I got to work with. Here is a little peek at one of my assigned duties. Reading it brings back fond, if not eyesore memories. I DID love my job there, though I sound kind of cranky here........probably because I actually WAS.
I've been looking at microscopic numbers for the live-long day. SOME guys do NOT get the concept of preserving receipts in such a way as to be decipherable at a later date. Testing receipt durability by running it through the dry cleaners all crashed in your pants pocket does not a happy accounting clerk make. And here's a newsflash; those nifty yellow highlighters that some of these guys are using to indicate what qualifies for reimbursement are imbued with a chemical that actually DISSOLVES the ink that most cash register tapes spew out, thereby leaving a brilliant yellow rectangle in place of numbers. (Does the CIA know about this neat trick?) I gotta rev up my cheerfulness engine, jingle the sales fellows up and say, "This is the Reciept Nazi. Can you please recall what amount you highlighted on March 5th for a purchase at Fry's Electronics? At 1:27 pm at register 16? Did you use your credit card? Would you look it up on your bill please?" I feel especially productive as a human being when it ends up being a budget-shattering $7.58. Note to self: distribute inter-office memo restricting use of yellow highlighters. Hot Pink is optimal.
That's all for today folks. Hope everyone is having a fabulous day. Have a good weekend; I'm planning on it, because according to my Manager, I get the weekends OFF.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Dear Friendies
Ok, so I have to do some serious backpedaling now, because I just slammed that last blog out there to get Holly off my back. I did NOT expect her to invite scores of people to peek at it; I hadn't edited it or re-read it even; it was just a one-minute flailing out there to see if that's the kind of thing she had in mind. It's not exactly the stellar piece I would have wanted to start out with and for the life of me, I can't find the DELETE icon on this site to get rid of that whiny-pants entry.
BOTHERATION.
So for reals now, we're just going to make this a group conversation to my dear friendies (well, and the kids). This way, you won't feel compelled to respond to some of those longer emails (I've heard rumors to the effect that they carry a sensation of "homework" to some) and can just pick and choose what you are in the mood to read. For the record, the first person I ever heard use the term "friendies" was Debbie and it is SO the perfect term, that I quickly snatched it and use it shamelessly to describe all of you.
Tomorrow will be Tim's first day back at school. (I can just see Debbie hunkering down in her chair with a grin, because any Tim anecdotes are sure to run the mercury on the entertainment thermometer into triple digits). We had to visit the campus today to get his schedule, meet with his special ed coordinator and trot around to the classrooms so he could get a rough idea of where he was going. We also decided he needed a smaller size PE shirt. As we paid the finance lady, she glanced at her watch and remarked, "Oooh, you might JUST make it to the student store before they close."
I told Tim to take the receipt and run ahead (I was wearing a skirt and flip-flops) and see if he could catch them. He had to tear through the expansive quad and lunch area, which were entirely bereft of human life, amplifying the "THWAK-THWAK" of his panicked, flat-footed running to deafening decibles as it reverberated off the lunch area's metal awnings. His sunglasses flew off his head en route, but I yelled after him that I would get them. He barreled to a halt at the student store, poked his head in the door and bellowed urgently, "HELLOWW? ANYBODY? HELLOWW? IS THERE ANYONE HERE AT ALL?" Understand now, there is no plant life whatsoever on the campus, except for the beautiful waving palms encircling the quad, but they are sparsely placed and of skyscraper height, so all that cement made for very excellent acoustic effects. I immediately envisioned every neighbor within a one mile radius running to their window wondering why this person shouting at their front door didn't have the courtesy to use the doorbell. Needless to say, I flip-flopped along as fast as I could manage, propelled by embarrassment as well as bursts of chuckling, but a nice looking fellow, with a bit of a startled look on his face from what had to have been a fearsome auditory jolt on such a peaceful afternoon, showed up before more shouting was required and handed breathless Tim a better sized shirt. There is no further question that my boy has himself a competent set of lungs.
So there you have it; the first installment of "Life With Tim". He's terribly happy that instead of having to start his first school day at the repulsive 8:05 of normal days, he gets to show up at 10:15 instead, because he's an upper classman. Sweet.
BOTHERATION.
So for reals now, we're just going to make this a group conversation to my dear friendies (well, and the kids). This way, you won't feel compelled to respond to some of those longer emails (I've heard rumors to the effect that they carry a sensation of "homework" to some) and can just pick and choose what you are in the mood to read. For the record, the first person I ever heard use the term "friendies" was Debbie and it is SO the perfect term, that I quickly snatched it and use it shamelessly to describe all of you.
Tomorrow will be Tim's first day back at school. (I can just see Debbie hunkering down in her chair with a grin, because any Tim anecdotes are sure to run the mercury on the entertainment thermometer into triple digits). We had to visit the campus today to get his schedule, meet with his special ed coordinator and trot around to the classrooms so he could get a rough idea of where he was going. We also decided he needed a smaller size PE shirt. As we paid the finance lady, she glanced at her watch and remarked, "Oooh, you might JUST make it to the student store before they close."
I told Tim to take the receipt and run ahead (I was wearing a skirt and flip-flops) and see if he could catch them. He had to tear through the expansive quad and lunch area, which were entirely bereft of human life, amplifying the "THWAK-THWAK" of his panicked, flat-footed running to deafening decibles as it reverberated off the lunch area's metal awnings. His sunglasses flew off his head en route, but I yelled after him that I would get them. He barreled to a halt at the student store, poked his head in the door and bellowed urgently, "HELLOWW? ANYBODY? HELLOWW? IS THERE ANYONE HERE AT ALL?" Understand now, there is no plant life whatsoever on the campus, except for the beautiful waving palms encircling the quad, but they are sparsely placed and of skyscraper height, so all that cement made for very excellent acoustic effects. I immediately envisioned every neighbor within a one mile radius running to their window wondering why this person shouting at their front door didn't have the courtesy to use the doorbell. Needless to say, I flip-flopped along as fast as I could manage, propelled by embarrassment as well as bursts of chuckling, but a nice looking fellow, with a bit of a startled look on his face from what had to have been a fearsome auditory jolt on such a peaceful afternoon, showed up before more shouting was required and handed breathless Tim a better sized shirt. There is no further question that my boy has himself a competent set of lungs.
So there you have it; the first installment of "Life With Tim". He's terribly happy that instead of having to start his first school day at the repulsive 8:05 of normal days, he gets to show up at 10:15 instead, because he's an upper classman. Sweet.
Sunday, August 17, 2008
So what's the big deal?
Everyone is yelling at me to write, but when I sit down without someONE to write to, then it seems like a fruitless venture to me, not to mention the fact that it seems a monumentally boring project to dream up something to blabber about when I don't have a real purpose for blabbering, or an audience to blabber to.
So there.
I'm an emailer, and it seems that should be good enough for everyone. Who is everyone? My emaily friends; and shouldn't they be happy enough that I email them frequently with little quips of things that go on in my relatively uneventful life? Or, is it that they are sick of getting the long emails and would rather I stick to a blog page, get my tapping out that way and leave them alone? I just don't know. Perhaps it will be helpful to record events that strike me as humorous and have it somewhere as fodder for a future something or other. Jen seems to excel at tapping endlessly and coming up with stuff to sell. I wouldn't mind making the odd dollar here and there, if an opportunity presented itself, but mostly, I guess I just feel compelled to write, because I love word imagery, and more, I like to make my friendies laugh. I have some very excellent friends carrying some heavy burdens and if I can do a little something to make a smile happen in their day, it makes me very happy.
That's enough for now. I need to go check my email and see if anyone's given me a reason to write them back......
So there.
I'm an emailer, and it seems that should be good enough for everyone. Who is everyone? My emaily friends; and shouldn't they be happy enough that I email them frequently with little quips of things that go on in my relatively uneventful life? Or, is it that they are sick of getting the long emails and would rather I stick to a blog page, get my tapping out that way and leave them alone? I just don't know. Perhaps it will be helpful to record events that strike me as humorous and have it somewhere as fodder for a future something or other. Jen seems to excel at tapping endlessly and coming up with stuff to sell. I wouldn't mind making the odd dollar here and there, if an opportunity presented itself, but mostly, I guess I just feel compelled to write, because I love word imagery, and more, I like to make my friendies laugh. I have some very excellent friends carrying some heavy burdens and if I can do a little something to make a smile happen in their day, it makes me very happy.
That's enough for now. I need to go check my email and see if anyone's given me a reason to write them back......
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