Ricky's going to be tested for learning disabilities, ADHD, etc. on January 31. I have mixed feelings about this. I mean, just because a kid is distractible doesn't mean he has ADHD.
The reason I self-referred him to the school district for this is that he has serious behavior problems. We're hoping to isolate the problem and get him registered for the right school (he's starting Kindergarten this fall). If he has ADHD or a learning disability he'll have to go to the school that has special ed, and we have to register for kindergarten in February. So the time to get this handled is now.
Isn't it weird to want him to do well, when wanting to find out the right answers might mean that he won't do well?
A parent's quandary, I guess.
Sunday, January 21, 2001
Thursday, January 4, 2001
Today I took the boys to the Children's Discovery Museum. I guess it's my way of spending time with them while at the same time avoiding housework. This place is an enormous mess.
Anyway, we had lots of fun there. My favorite part is the tennis ball display, where you can use cranks to manipulate tennis balls in a great big machine. Luckily the boys like it too; we spent about an hour fiddling around with it. A couple of times while we were at the museum one or the other of the boys ran off away from me; I'm trying to make sure they know that's not o.k. I'm so scared of losing one of them.
The last thing we did was visit the Arthur display. One of the rooms in there is a library, where kids can pretend to scan the books. Ricky started grabbing books from other kids and I steered him away from there. Then he found a felt board where a little girl was making a picture and pulled all of the little felt figures off and threw them on the floor, making her cry. At this point I told him, "Okay, we're out of here" and we left.
All the way to the light rail, all the way home on the light rail, and all the way to the car from the light rail station he cried and hollered and pouted about having to leave.
It occurred to me that maybe this behavior problem we're trying to get diagnosed means that he just doesn't know when he's doing something bad. Maybe he is not observant enough of what's going on around him to notice how is actions affect other people. Does that make any sense?
Anyway all I could do was put my arm around him and make sympathetic sounds; but I also made sure he knew why we had to leave.
We came home and I got Andy down for his nap while Ricky watched the end of Star Wars, which he started watching this morning. I wasn't much younger than him when I saw it for the first time, in 1977, at the movie theater.
Anyway, we had lots of fun there. My favorite part is the tennis ball display, where you can use cranks to manipulate tennis balls in a great big machine. Luckily the boys like it too; we spent about an hour fiddling around with it. A couple of times while we were at the museum one or the other of the boys ran off away from me; I'm trying to make sure they know that's not o.k. I'm so scared of losing one of them.
The last thing we did was visit the Arthur display. One of the rooms in there is a library, where kids can pretend to scan the books. Ricky started grabbing books from other kids and I steered him away from there. Then he found a felt board where a little girl was making a picture and pulled all of the little felt figures off and threw them on the floor, making her cry. At this point I told him, "Okay, we're out of here" and we left.
All the way to the light rail, all the way home on the light rail, and all the way to the car from the light rail station he cried and hollered and pouted about having to leave.
It occurred to me that maybe this behavior problem we're trying to get diagnosed means that he just doesn't know when he's doing something bad. Maybe he is not observant enough of what's going on around him to notice how is actions affect other people. Does that make any sense?
Anyway all I could do was put my arm around him and make sympathetic sounds; but I also made sure he knew why we had to leave.
We came home and I got Andy down for his nap while Ricky watched the end of Star Wars, which he started watching this morning. I wasn't much younger than him when I saw it for the first time, in 1977, at the movie theater.
Monday, January 1, 2001
I was an only child
When I was growing up, I always longed for a sibling, preferably a boy since I was such a tomboy myself. My parents tried to have another baby when I was around 10, but I guess it wasn't meant to be because they never did conceive again.
Being an only child, I grew up really fast. I could go to parties with my parents and hold intelligent conversations with adults with no problems.
I was a little lonely. When my school friends were all busy, I was bored with no one to play with. However, I developed a terrific imagination from all this solo play. I had a massive collection of Star Wars action figures and playsets, and built elaborate worlds with them, not having to worry about a little brother or sister knocking them down or messing them up.
I had trouble with teasing. I didn't know how to react to it. My two boy cousins (brothers) used to tease me mercilessly, and I'd just cry and run away. I didn't know then that the best way to discourage them would have been to just ignore them or joke back at them. How would I know? I had no experience! I figured it out later on and they were disappointed, I think, to have the wind taken out of their sails.
As I grew older, I decided I wanted a huge family -- at least six kids. That way no one would ever be in this position that I was in. After I got to adulthood I realized that would probably not be possible, at least not in California, Silicon Valley to be more specific. It's just too expensive here to raise a regular-sized family, let alone a large family!
When Ricky was born and diagnosed with the genetic disease cystic fibrosis, I could have decided not to have any more children because of the CF (I know lots of parents who have made that decision), but I didn't. I was determined that Ricky would not be an only child. We conceived Andy when Ricky was about 1-1/2, and waited on pins and needles for his amniocentesis results (we were going to keep him either way, but it was still nerve-wracking!).
Andy's fine, and our family is now complete. The boys play together, tease each other (and let it roll of their backs), laugh together, throw food at each other, and do all the things that brothers do. In a way it makes me wish that I'd had a sibling or two, but I know that I am a better person, in my own way, for having been an only child.
Being an only child, I grew up really fast. I could go to parties with my parents and hold intelligent conversations with adults with no problems.
I was a little lonely. When my school friends were all busy, I was bored with no one to play with. However, I developed a terrific imagination from all this solo play. I had a massive collection of Star Wars action figures and playsets, and built elaborate worlds with them, not having to worry about a little brother or sister knocking them down or messing them up.
I had trouble with teasing. I didn't know how to react to it. My two boy cousins (brothers) used to tease me mercilessly, and I'd just cry and run away. I didn't know then that the best way to discourage them would have been to just ignore them or joke back at them. How would I know? I had no experience! I figured it out later on and they were disappointed, I think, to have the wind taken out of their sails.
As I grew older, I decided I wanted a huge family -- at least six kids. That way no one would ever be in this position that I was in. After I got to adulthood I realized that would probably not be possible, at least not in California, Silicon Valley to be more specific. It's just too expensive here to raise a regular-sized family, let alone a large family!
When Ricky was born and diagnosed with the genetic disease cystic fibrosis, I could have decided not to have any more children because of the CF (I know lots of parents who have made that decision), but I didn't. I was determined that Ricky would not be an only child. We conceived Andy when Ricky was about 1-1/2, and waited on pins and needles for his amniocentesis results (we were going to keep him either way, but it was still nerve-wracking!).
Andy's fine, and our family is now complete. The boys play together, tease each other (and let it roll of their backs), laugh together, throw food at each other, and do all the things that brothers do. In a way it makes me wish that I'd had a sibling or two, but I know that I am a better person, in my own way, for having been an only child.
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