Surprise!

I forgot how quick kittens are, and how they are sometimes easy to miss because of their size. And I forgot that kittens like to climb. I also forgot that those tiny, tiny claws are REALLLLLY sharp.

Zena, as we have decided to call her, likes to run around in Stealth Kitty mode and attack my foot while I am walking, so I've accidentally punted her a couple of times. She has also decided that I am her personal jungle gym. I will suddenly feel sharp tiny pinpricks as Zena leaps onto my pant leg and starts climbing. If I'm not wearing pants, she leaps for the bottom of my skirt, or nightgown, or shirt.

Tonight Zena apparently followed me into the bathroom. I'm sitting there quietly, minding my own business, when all of a sudden...there's a kitten hanging from my underpants. A cacophony of screaming and meowing followed, because I don't know who was more surprised.

Social Skill Tip of the Day, 17

It is NEVER okay to discuss colons with anyone who is not your personal doctor in his office, unless it is someone in a medical capacity(nurse, etc.)requesting the information. If anyone else requests information regarding your colon, run away very fast.

New Addition to the Family

My husband's birthday was last week, and I was scrambling for a gift. Since it was his 40th, I wanted to get him something special. He doesn't know it, but I spend a LOT of time thinking about his presents for holidays. I had already decided that he would get the Battlestar Galactica Bluray series, but it needed something more.

My friend Leticia mentioned that her husband had saved a kitten from being run over by an 18-wheeler. The kitten had obviously been dumped by some evil person. Leticia's husband brought the kitten home and they nursed it back to health, Leticia happened to be looking for someone to take the kitten because they couldn't keep it. I asked to see a picture, and decided that this kitten would make a perfect present.

To say that Larry was happy with the kitty would be an understatement. The kitty was immediately picked up and tucked safely into Larry's shirt for the ride home. Larry didn't put the kitten down for a good two hours. I would say the it was love at first sight.

Who could resist that face????

Being a Mom is Hard.

On Friday I brought my son to the school district for an early childhood "screening". Zane had been receiving early intervention from the Brighton School since last year at the request of a developmental psychologist, but Brighton's services stop at age three. If he qualifies, the local school district will pick up the services starting on his birthday. Our main concern for Zane has always been his language, and we really feel that since he started with daycare and has been around other children, his language development has accelerated. His articulation hasn't always kept up, however. There are still times when I have NO idea what the heck that boy is saying, and I know that he probably thinks that I'm an idiot. He's probably right.

Based on Zane's behavior during the screening, which included climbing on tables, overturning tables, and generally causing mayhem in the play area, they asked to see Zane as soon as possible. Which turned out to be today.

On Saturday Zane was invited to a birthday party for Davis, a little girl that he knows. It was at the Children's Museum in New Braunfels. They have a neat setup with wooden trains that Zane is absolutely gaga over--the last time we were there that was ALL he would play with, for the entire hour. This time was no different--when it was time to go for the party, Zane had what is known as a conniption fit. We got him into the room where the party was and finally got him settled down with some cake.

Keep in mind that none of the other kids were having hissy fits about having to leave what they were doing to come have cake, and that these kids were all around Zane's age. So my son stood out like a sore thumb, and I could feel lots of eyes on him. He did sing "Happy Birthday", had some cake, and some lemonade. Larry left to go put our spare tire on the car, since right as we pulled into the parking lot our rear tire blew out.
So I sat in one of those little tiny kid's chairs with Zane, while the other kids were able to sit at tables by themselves, and I watched Davis open her presents. Zane's attention wandered, as it usually does, but at least he stayed seated.

Suddenly Davis pulled out a pink little toy train. Zane zeroed in on that and takes off for the front. The train had been put on the counter, within easy reach, and Zane went right for it. Everything was happening in slow motion for me. I told Zane, "That is not your train." I got to the front of the room as fast as I could, considering that I was sitting in one of those tiny chairs.

He disagreed vehemently and ran into a corner, screaming, "MINE!!!!" I had to stay calm on the outside, but inside my heart sank. I managed to get the train away and pick Zane up. He promptly smacked me a couple of times in the face, but to my credit I didn't drop him. I took him back to the back of the room and he continued to wail. As soon as he could convince me to let him down, Zane ran off, out of sight, straight back to the trains.

I can't describe to you the feeling when you realize just how different your child is from normal. Intellectually I know that it's possible that Zane is developmentally behind his peers in some areas. Emotionally I am trying to wrap my brain around the possibility that something else might be going on. Because the behavior my son exhibited on Saturday is not the kind of behavior that will get him through kindergarten, or the rest of life, in a happy manner.

So this morning Zane and I went back to the school district and while I filled out about four questionnaires about behavior, the speech pathologist and the LSSP(school psychologist) tried administering several different batteries to Zane. Usually I am the one giving the various batteries of tests, so I generally tried to ignore everything going on over there. The adults were smart and blocked Zane in so he couldn't run off, but it eventually ended up requiring both of them to sit beside Zane and give him immediate feedback to get him to respond to just about everything.

We have to wait for the results. Darn it. I want to know now. All this has been extremely difficult for me for some reason. Okay, not for 'some' reason. It's been hard because I want my son to be okay, whatever that means.

Gesundheit

When I hear people sneeze, my response is to tell them “Gesundheit”, which is German and means something along the lines of “Good health”. People in this area often say “Bless You!” when they hear you sneeze and it’s always made me vaguely uncomfortable. I never was really sure why, so I keep my feelings to myself and just moved along. Today, however, I was stuck at a red light for longer than expected and my brain wandered over to this subject.

The idea that the energy that you send out comes back to you is not new, and is certainly not a concept limited to any one religion. The Law of Attraction, so very popular right now, is all about this very concept: ask directly for what you want and you’ll get it.

But there has to be intention to your prayer/wish. You can’t just ask for a vague sort of blessing from the Universe, because you never know what you are going to get. If you go to McDonald's and just ask for a burger, they will look at you with pity, because there are several different choices of burger on the menu. It’s the same with prayer. You have to speak exactly what you want aloud, with intention. Just saying “Bless you” is so vague as to be practically meaningless. What are you blessing the recipient with—free pizza?

“Gesundheit”, on the other hand, is a specific request for a specific thing. Nothing vague or meaningless about it. And that is why I say it. I want to make sure that the person sneezing stays healthy. Gesundheit.

The Boy With The Tiger Tattoo

Zane decided that he wanted to be a tiger yesterday. So he took the black dry erase marker he had been using to write his letters and drew stripes on imself. All over. Legs, feet, arms,face--striped. He was very proud of his stripes. I was proud that he was creative enough to think of it in the first place, and then to think that he could carry out his idea with a dry erase marker. Pretty quick thinking for a two-year old.

This is what happens when you spend too long in the bathroom...

That's My Boy!

Larry and Zane are sitting at the computer, watching train videos. I brought a small cup of M&Ms for Zane, and my husband decides that he wants one.

"Zane, may I have an M&M?"

"No."

"But you're supposed to share! Can you say 'share'?"

"No."

My son already knows to hoard chocolate!

Social Skills Tip Of The Day

If you are over three years of age and in the stall of a public bathroom, it is not considered polite to begin singing loudly to cover up the sounds of "going". Not even if you're singing Frank Sinatra.

Ruminations on Jury Duty

Today I had to wake up at 5-freakin'-30 in the AM so I could be at the closest Park & Ride. I had to report for jury duty. Now, before people get their cracks cheesed with outrage that I'm complaining about jury duty, shaddup. I would be perfectly happy to serve on any jury that didn't involve a crime committed against a child. What I'm complaining about, and have always complained about, is having to sit for HOURS in a cold, windowless room, bored out of my skull, waiting. This is my image of prison, and I don't think it's fair to subject the people who have to decide court cases objectively to such cruel and unusual punishment. I say that if we have to go down there we should automatically be on a jury panel.

My day began with a nice ride on a brand new "Express" bus that went straight downtown. The only thing I found odd on the bus ride was a sign telling people that when they exit the bus they should NOT walk in front of the bus. I should not be surprised that Via has to post a sign telling people not to be stupid idiots, but I was.

The bus driver was nice enough to tell me when we got to the courthouse, since I always forget what the heck the building looks like. (It's an old red brick building with original architechtural stylings!) Across the street is San Fernando Cathedral. In front of the courthouse is a marker which basically says that some guy decided that this spot would be a good place for a courthouse. He would be correct. Next to the courthouse is the Cadena-Reeves Justice Center, and this is where I was supposed to be. In the basement, the summons read. Wha? There is some place in South Texas that has a basement? Really?

Yep. A real, honest-to-gosh basement. I went throught the metal detector(NO knitting needles allowed!) and down a flight of stairs into the jury room. It was packed, and they were herding us like cattle into seats. We sat, wearing our JUROR pins and waited. And waited. And waited. Finally the judge showed up to swear us in...and she was twelve. She looked like she just came from a middle school theater group wearing a judge's robe from one of those one act plays those kids do. Okay, she was probably older than twelve, but not by too many years. Maybe this was her first year as a judge.

She swears us in...we wait. At least after the judge showed up we got to move around a bit. I went to the cafeteria to find some coffee(meh) and ended up having a breakfast taco(pretty good, actually), then parked myself in a room near the jury room that had a table, so I could at least write. I should have brought my computer because then I could have at least done some work, but since it did not specifically state on the summons that one could bring a computer, I didn't want to chance it. I burned through the Atlantic Monthly magazine and the newspaper in record time.

They let us go to lunch, and I made a bad choice and had the enchiladas. Bad, bad choice, but I didn't pay for it immediately, which was good. I spent a few quality moments with some obese pigeons and a determined grackle, trying to see how close they were willing to get to my foot to get some cracker crumbs. The pigeons were slow, but they definitely were the risk takers. Probably why they were obese. I spent a few moments in San Fernando Cathedral, like a good Catholic, then headed back over to the Justice Center. To wait...and wait...and wait.

I think they called us back to the jury room a total of six times to read us names of people who were selected to be on a panel. I don't know, because after about 45 minutes of sitting there I started feeling sickly in my tummy. (Like I said, enchiladas at an unfamiliar restaurant were a bad, bad choice on this day. I tried reading a book, but I mostly tried very hard not to fall asleep or vomit.) When the baliff finally told us that we could go a little after three, I was so ready! The bus ride home was uneventful(except that the guy sitting across the aisle from me looked suspiciously like Omar from The Wire. Weird.).

As soon as I got home I did NOT throw up, which I considered a small victory. I had been hoping to have my house allll to myself, but of course my mother-in-law was here, and that totally crushed my groove(maybe if I would have thrown up on her? Probably not). So I took a nap, and fell asleep thinking that at least I had missed a huge staff meeting at work.

Although it's a toss up as to which would have been more tortuous at this point.