Technology

Isn't technology something to watch? Last night before going to bed, I decided to check my email. I also logged onto AIM to see who was online. (For those who are not sure what aim is-is there anyone who isn't? It stands for AOL instant messenger. It allows you to chat online.) I laughed when I saw my son, who is away at college, his sister, who just moved with my grandson an hour away, and my 18 year old daughter. She was just downstairs, but I couldn't resist IM'ing them to comment that over half our family was online. If truth be told, the youngest 2 siblings would have been online also, but because they have to get up early, they were in bed. Michael, my husband was also online, but for some reason, he doesn't like "talking" via instant message.

I was pretty proud of myself for having 3 chat boxes open at one time, and being able to carry on 3 different conversations. For those that don't know, I do not multi-task well. Then my oldest invited us all to a chatroom where we proceeded to carry on our conversations together.

Wow! It was just like sitting around the dinner table, well, almost. Chatter back and forth, humor bordering on sarcasm, confusion as to what these two are talking about, inquiries as to why everyone new but me (from the younger of the 3), and just back-and-forth bantering. My oldest was sharing pics of Ethan, via her cell phone camera. He had her portable phone tucked in his pants, pretending it was his pocket cell phone. But he didn't have pockets in his pajamas.



I finally told them I really needed to go to bed, expressed how much fun it had been, but how I felt a bit bad that the whole family hadn't been there. El replies that her youngest sister is there, just a silent partner listening. Grrrr....I thought she was in bed. Oh well. I miss having my two oldest living here and the whole family together every night. But, when dinnertime rolls around tomorrow, I only have to call downstairs to 3 cell phones to tell them dinner is ready. Or maybe I will just get online and message them all at once as a means of ringing the dinner bell. The dinner bell...now that brings up an array of memories of times when communication wasn't so high tech. I'll save those for another day.

One of those mornings

Do you ever have one of those mornings where you know right away things aren't going the way you planned? Last night I nearly got in bed before realizing I hadn't laid out the lunches, nor set the coffee maker. Now if I was to get up and the coffee wasn't made, that alone could start the morning off awry. As tired as I was, I was diligent and cut up the brownies and wrapped them individually. I filled baggies with pretzels, made chicken salad, and filled the water bottles and put them in the freezer. Oh, and set the coffee maker. Whew! I was ready for the morning, especially since HH asked me to french braid her hair in the morning.

It was still dark when I walked out to the kitchen this morning. The coffee smelled wonderful, but when I looked, I saw why it was so fragrant. There was coffee everywhere. The pretzels and brownies were floating in brown, speckled liquid. The lunch boxes were soaking in a mocha color. Coffee grounds not only covered the countertop, but were on the stove. Hmmm...in my flurry to get everything together the night before, I must have forgotten to put a filter in the coffee maker. This fancy coffee maker that grinds the coffee fresh each morning, then drips it into the insulated carafe does not like it when you forget the filter. And to let you know, spews coffee and grounds out of every crack and crevice to protest.

Homecoming

Sb just left for the Homecoming dance. She looked beautiful as always. Here are some pictures:



This is HH, Sb, and El

UPDATE

Ben's mother phoned tonight. She sounded very stressed and concerned. I think because she does not want her son dating, at least not yet. Sb doesn't see this as a date, and neither do I. Afterall, neither one of them has their drivers license, so his parents will have to drive them.

I think I was able to alleviate some of the mother's stress by telling her Sb only wanted to go as friends. We talked for a bit. She asked if I had other children, had we done this before, etc. She told me she had one other son and he only went to dances his junior and senior year. There was a lot of sighing as we spoke, but by the end I think we both felt better. This will be interesting to meet the parents on Saturday.

Unchosen

Sb came home from school today with a new twist to the homecoming dance she is going to. Ben told her that when he informed his parents that he had asked her to the dance, they told him they didn't want him going. What? How can they say that after he already HAS asked?

I told her that was ok, that she could go back to her original plan and go with her girlfriends. She said he went ahead and bought her ticket and gave it to her. So what does this mean? Did he feel guilty, so bought her the ticket so she could still go, or is he going behind his parents back and going anyway? Of course Sb didn't have any answers.

Honestly, I felt like he should honor his parents request, and Sb could live with that too. It would not be the end of the world for her. Sigh. That was short-lived enthusiasm.

Chosen

"Mom, I have a story to tell you." I am used to hearing this phrase from one of my daughters. They have gotten to where they just look for something to happen during their day so they will have a story to tell. Once everyone is sitting at the table, whoever is the lucky one to have had some sort of encounter or story to tell has the attention of every member present. Apparently, they all love being center stage in this house.

All eyes were fixed on the storyteller, while forkfuls of food passed their lips. The tale began. "After stage crew, I was waiting outside for Liz. Ben comes up and starts talking. He tells me he has a question to ask. He then says, 'would you mind going to homecoming with me?' I told him I would." (Okay, not everyone has honed their story-telling skills.)

"Why didn't you tell him you WOULD mind," I joked. "It's a good thing we bought you a dress yesterday," I added.

"So is he good-looking?" Sb's younger sister asks her. That is the all-important litmus test in her mind.

"Well, he's my friend. He's in the play. He's a nerd." Sb says this, all the while with a twinkle in her eye and a slight grin as if she's trying hard not to smile.

"Well if he's a nerd, then he's good-looking, just like me." Everyone laughs. That's such a dad thing. Yeah, he's a good-looking nerd.

Sb had planned to go to homecoming with some girlfriends. She isn't much into boys, although she does notice them once-in-awhile. I thought it would be nice to have a new dress to wear, new shoes too. But I think there is also something about being chosen. Something happens inside when a young man goes out of his way to ask you if you would mind accompanying him to an event. An event that you have a new dress, new shoes, earrings and necklace to match, hair done up nice-something a bit magical about it when you've been chosen too. She's looking forward to the dance, planning everything out,even if it is only a few days away.

Rough Day

After an emotional day yesterday, a friend sent me this story. I felt I needed to post it here. Ethan is our Holland.

Welcome to Holland
Emily Perl Kingsley

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a
disability- to try to help people who have not shared this unique experience
to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this...

When you're going to have a baby it's like planning a fabulous vacation
trip--to Italy. You buy a bunch of guidebooks and make your wonderful
plans. The Coliseum, Michelangelo's David, the gondolas of Venice. You may
learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.

After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack
your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The
stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."

"Holland?!?!" you say. What do you mean, Holland? I signed up for
Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to
Italy." But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland
and there you must stay. The important thing is that they haven't taken you
to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place. So you must go out and buy new guidebooks. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.

It's just a different place. It's slower paced that Italy, less flashy
than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your
breath, you look around, and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills,
Holland has tulips, Holland even has Rembrandts. But everyone you know is busy going to and from Italy, and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say. "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."

The pain of that will never ever, ever go away because the loss of that
dream is a very significant loss.

But if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to
Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely
things about Holland.

A Lot of Changes

The beginning of a new school year nearly always throws me in a tizzy. It was especially difficult this year. You would think being a grandma shouldn't have the same affect on you as the little ones start school.

I got my girls started in school. Boy, does getting them to the bus at 6:40a.m. seem early. It will be worse later on, though, when it is still dark. I think I make lunches half-asleep. I wonder what exactly I pack in those lunches???

Thursday through Monday I had Ethan. The first 2 days were extremely difficult, as he had a stiff neck and was not a happy camper. By Saturday, he was back to his old self. Somehow I managed to remember his medicine every morning and every night. I got him to take a nap (and yes, even with gas prices so high, I took him for a little drive to help enhance his ability to fall asleep.) And I got him in bed at nearly the same time every night. By Tuesday morning, I was starting to feel awfully attached to this little boy. But Tuesday, was his first day at "school."

At 3, Ethan started preschool for kids with special needs. He gets 3 hours a day, 4 days a week. We have been pretty excited, as he will have therapists there helping him each day. He can't help but make a lot of progress, right? His first day went great. His teacher said he was much higher functioning than they anticpated. The second day went well also.

But me? Today, I have been a basket case. I started crying for no reason. I was sad that I hadn't been able to be there for his first day. Sad I didn't get to meet his new teacher who will be so much a new part of his life right now. So this afternoon, I called to hear how his third day went. I needed to know things were still going great.


I wish that is what my daughter had been able to tell me. Unfortunately, he was not having a good day. He woke up very unhappy and destructive. She realized she forgot to give him his meds. last night. From there it went from bad to worse. And his teacher said after school, that he did not have a good day. He was pinching some of the other kids.

Hmmm...this is tough, I don't know if I'm going to be able to make it through a year of Ethan being so far away and not being able to do anything about it.