Does It Make You Want to Kiss Me On the Mouth, Too?

Or we could call this, "Reason #675 Why She Shouldn't Be Forced to Endure Meetings That Other People Use In Place of Therapy"

Her:  "Blah blah blah wah wah wah *snort*"

Me:  "Or maybe since you are a full-grown woman, you could actually do it yourself."

(Two people later said they could have kissed me on the mouth for that.  One of them was not my boss, who was sitting right next to me, however.)

Which Side Are You On?

When I was expecting Corey, my mom offered to throw a shower.  True to her ways, she then laid out stipulations like, it had to be some place near her (about 90 minutes from me... but she was closer to most of my friends) and in the middle of June (due July 4).  Neither of those was too demanding, so I acquiesced.  Then, even more true to my mother, as the date approached (*cough* and she hadn't made any preparations or sent out invitations *coughcough*) she added one more.  "Oh, and I'll need to have your doctor approve your driving up here.  In writing."


Doc didn't approve it and Mom was off the hook.  One of my best friends came down to Ocean Beach (San Diego) and threw a party for me.  Mom didn't make it for whatever reason.  Neither did most of my closer-to-LA friends.  So Laura rallied the people in the little apartment complex where we lived.  By today's standards, it was pitiful.  But back before everybody seemed to go crazy with gift giving, it was pretty nice.  We got a few outfits, a hygiene and safety kit, a few toys and a bathtub.


When I was expecting Madelyn, I wondered about the appropriateness of having a shower for a second child.  Granted, she came 15 years after Corey.  Not to mention had I still had any of his baby clothes, they mostly wouldn't have worked for her.  Since we weren't finding out if she was male or female until her grand entrance into this world, I figured we'd just have a Welcome Baby party after we knew who she was.  Not quite how it worked out (but you won't hear me complain).


We ended up with showers from a women's group I was in, my office (all books*) and even one of the schools I serve.  Each was lovely and people were extremely generous (as has been the custom for the past eight or nine years, don't you think?).


*Okay, the books were all great, even if we did get three Bibles.  The only one that still makes me shake my head came from our group of counselors.  Which book did they collectively choose?  A first edition Beastly Feasts by Robert Forbes.  Oh, it's a great book with tons of animals.  Like "Spike the Biker," who puts cheap gas in his motorcycle and comes home in a casket.  Mad's personal favorite for at least a year now?  "The Tiger and the Tyke."  You know that old classic where big brother annoys tiger, tiger escapes and eats little brother because the other one's too fast?  Yeah.  We read that in a sing-songy voice whenever she requests it.  Now she asks for it by the first line, "Tigew tigew, feawsome sight?"  I just wonder which one of the counselors will be providing her therapy when she realizes what we've been reading.


Tom's mom's work even threw her a "grandma party," which was really a shower for Mad, just 2500 miles away.  About six weeks or so after Mad was born, we did have that meet and greet.  Nearly 70 guests and probably just as many outfits and blankets later, all the celebrations were over.


When we finally were expecting Fynn, I decided that I did not want another shower.  It just seems greedy for me to ask people to buy things for our second girl in two years.  (True to my own ways, my rules on this are just for me.  Have as many showers for all 25 of your kids as people will attend.  I don't mind.)  Plus, while I like hanging out with people, I don't really like to be the one everyone's watching. 


We've registered for stuff, but it's a shopping list for us and a chance to get another percent-off coupon once she's here.  Almost everything has been purchased.  I do believe that every child's birth should be celebrated, and we will host another Welcome Baby party.  But the girl does not need clothes, blankets or toys, so we'll be finding a way to put that on the invitations such that people don't think, "Are they just asking for money?!?"  We saved everything from Madelyn for just this situation.  The things she needs are all "big" items, like a couple of convertible car seats and bedding.  Did I ever show you the bedding we've picked out?


Imagine it with a very dark cherry crib.  

We were going to order it about two weeks ago, but something else came up and it didn't happen.

My team at work held what was supposed to have a half-day meeting on Tuesday.  I know the women, so I blocked out the whole day (smart move on my part).  Unlike most meetings, this was well thought out and well run.  It did end up taking seven hours during which I mostly behaved quite well (I'm just as shocked as anybody).  There were several points of discussion and a couple of activities.

What the heck is my point, right?  The last "activity" of the day was a surprise shower for Fynnie. 

I almost cried ugly tears.  The gifts were sweet, hilarious (like the card that said, "Dear Shan, gift's on my kitchen counter.  Love Dawn H." or the adorable set of onesies for boys because Carol thought she'd been told the baby's name is Finn William, not Fynn Willow) and extremely generous.  Like the bedding.  Nance ordered it for us.  Should be here a few weeks before the baby.

So it turns out that I'm perfectly happy to have surprise showers for this, my second daughter in two years.

Work

Aside from a recent rant, I generally don't talk about work here. That being said, I have to get this out.

I work with high school students who have moderate- to severe developmental disabilities. They can stay in high school until they are 22; I've had this job for six years. Even though there isn't much time to "hang out" in any one class, I have gotten to know some of my students pretty well over the years.

My first year was more about not screwing up than really getting to know people, since I'd bumped a beloved woman out of the job. So when three students died that year, it was shocking, but not personal. Almost every year we have lost students to congenital illnesses, one to cancer (who, regardless of her level of disability, was eventually able to say "no more" to the treatments; she was over 18, unlike the boy in the news). We've had kids age out of foster care and have to leave school prematurely. The grandmother who cared for one of my favorite students ever (he had Grandma buy work boots so he do the jobs I brought to class... even though the jobs involved envelope stuffing and the like, not anything requiring steel toes and good traction) passed away, so he was taken in by an aunt and uncle. He now goes to school about 25 miles away.

Two years ago I even "lost" a student to runaway marriage. That was an experience, let me tell you.

Last year, no one died. All of the "losses" were simply due to aging out of the program.

This year, knock on wood, so far so good.

Except that things aren't all that good.

Today I learned that the heart of one girl is essentially giving out. The parents are "happy" that she will likely make it to graduation, since she was never meant to live this long. This girl isn't all that aware of her situation, which is a sort of comfort.

Another one of my students, I'll call him Raj, has a brain tumor "so deep they can't operate." The good news is that it's not untreatable, but the boy is understandably upset about the whole thing. He's one of my exceptional kids. Any set of tests and assessments would indicate that Raj is well within the mentally retarded range of functioning, but he gets things. A neighboring teacher mentioned that they'd just gotten the news and that Raj was crying earlier. Fortunately, he's surrounded by loving adults at school (which is not always the case, despite what most people think). Before I left his school this morning, I pulled him out of class briefly to tell him I'd heard, that I'd be pulling for him, that I love him and that everything will be okay. I gave him a hug.

One of the persnickety parts of working in education is the righteous outrage toward adults who physically overstep their bounds with students. So part of me was thinking, "You could lose your job for this." Displays of affection, no matter how innocent or well-meant can be misconstrued. I'm not seriously worried about it; the hug took about 1.5 seconds. Still, it did pop into my mind.

When I was talking with Raj, I acknowledged that he can't have surgery. Even though his eyes showed his emotions, his response was classic teenaged boy: "Yeah, but it's good, because then they'd have to shave my hair off." He ran his hand over his head as he said that, and I could feel his relief. I didn't chuckle, but it wasn't easy. We talked briefly about alternatives to surgery. He seemed to have a pretty good understanding of the basics and we didn't drag things out.

After leaving I wanted to call Nance and tell her, but it's hard to know when to say what to someone who's already dealing with so much medical drama. Yesterday Ken was re-admitted to the hospital, into ICU no less, for a rapid heartbeat. Hopefully he'll be home again soon. So I didn't call her. I'm telling you instead.

Division of Labor

We have been phenomenally busy for the first time this school year (why yes, there are only five weeks left... this probably explains why we started this pay period with 40% of the budget untouched). Here are some stats:

• Our roster has 119 students
• We take jobs to 17 classes
  ... at 11 schools
  ... in three districts
  ... in seven cities.
• One class cannot work because the teacher sucks at paperwork and couldn't manage to get work permits made out for the entire year (yeah, the school would re-issue, but she doesn't follow up).
• One cannot work because the district is hassling and won't issue work permits at all (is that steam coming out of my ears?!?).
• One we won't take work to because he jacks everything up and doesn't currently have an aide we know well enough to trust with the jobs. The one he does have whom we know... well, she's very nice, but nice doesn't get the job done by the students.
• One class has done very well in the past, but recently... not so much. When I tried to address some specific problems with the teacher, she abruptly ended the call. Along with her chances for more work this school year.
• One class could get work, and is frequently offered work, but just as frequently turns it down. The last time he did it, I told him that was fine as long as he quit telling people from my office that he "doesn't get work projects"... as if he hasn't turned down the last eight jobs!
  
  As of 10:30 this morning, I had every single available class working. By the end of the day I was able to clear jobs from three classes, give missing items to two classes, pick up an Avon job, have it done and get it back to the employer the same day. We have one job spread over four classes. It's not a lot of pieces (3200), but the boxes are enormous. They take up too much room in the classes. I can fit about 350 pieces in my Escape at one time. So I had to go to a few classes several times, as well as to the employer's warehouse, which is about 17 miles away from anywhere. Not including my commute, I put 183 miles on my car today. That's insane!
  
  Normally Nance and I would be working together in separate vehicles, but she needed to take Ken to City of Hope for an extra check-up. If he passed, he could go home; if not, he would be re-admitted. I'll save the suspense and tell you he's happy to be home tonight.
  
  Tomorrow I have to work from home because there is no Mad-a-care. My niece is graduating from USC (ahem... with a double major and a couple of certificates, after only three years... apparently she never got the "not working up to potential" marks that I so often received, haha), so Grandma will be in L.A. for the day. Additionally, Nance won't be able to deal with any jobs tomorrow. We had two of our classes bake about 80 dozen cookies this week. They packaged them quite nicely, and Nance's task for the morrow is to take the rest of our allotment to the employers I couldn't get to today. It's a little thank you for the work that is saving our program. Add all that together, and I had to get as much done today as I could to alleviate the burden for Nance tomorrow.
  
  This evening Corey stayed at Mom's. I picked up Mad tonight because Tom had baseball practice (he usually brings her home). We had a brief hang-out with Grammy and Corey and then headed home.
  
  Mad is one of those "terrible twos" kind of girls. Tom mentioned it looked that way several months back and I denied it vociferously. But now she'll sit down and/or yell with or without tears shooting from her eyes if she doesn't get her way. She did it this morning when I had to push Pooh still in her hands under the carseat strap so I could get her out. Then, before a stress-filled, high speed day, I reacted by simply turning my head and ignoring her until she stopped (about 1.5 seconds).
  
  This evening it happened again before bathtime. The kids' bathroom has two doors, the "outside" one and the one that closes off the tub and toilet section from the sink. I was in the tub area, she was in the other. When she started screaming, I shut the door. Not all the way; she stopped screaming and opened it. When she started again, I canceled bathtime and scrubbed her appendages and pits with baby wipes. She's quite ticklish, so that was fun.
  
  Dad got home in time to put her to bed. This is "his job," as is bathtime. I'm generally the one who handles the morning stuff, which works well for us. Mad and I were quite relieved when Daddy walked through the door. If he hadn't, I'm quite sure that bedtime would have involved some rocking/walking, some squirming, a bit of fussing when I put her down. Instead she got to rock with Daddy in the big chair and when he saw that she needed to get some last energy out, he let her run around and play hide and seek with him (he was in her closet and she opened and shut the door) until she climbed into his lap for a last snuggle. Then she went down with hardly a peep.
  
  Sometimes it's my turn to be Supercool Mama, sometimes Tom is the Dad With All the Tricks. This is why we must have two parents in this home.