Showing posts with label early childhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label early childhood. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Permanent



Note:This week's prompt was to write about something red.


Permanent teeth are more solid than baby teeth, at least from a kid's perspective. Especially those two front teeth, which seem way larger than the other teeth in your mouth, at least until the rest of your body catches up. I had those two permanent teeth, I remember, when I was in third grade.

I also had a boyfriend named Eric. Well, as much of a boyfriend as one can have when you are eight. Mostly, it was all about chasing each other and holding hands. In third grade, boyfriends were given very responsible social roles, at least at the school I attended.

Boyfriends were responsible for pushing you when you were on the swings. They were one side of the teeter-totter(what we called see-saws back before electricity). Boyfriends were the ones who brought you candy and sat next to you at lunch and protected you from any bullies from the upper grade. In return, girlfriends helped boyfriends with their school work. Quid pro quo, Clarice.

Eric(last name withheld because I can't remember it) had a friend named Danny, I think. Danny had a crush on either Eric or me--crushes are sort of ambiguous that way. But he hung around. He was a nice kid, but a little pushy. We were all in the same third grade class and had recess at the same time.

Recess is just about the very best thing about school in the third grade. We were forced to walk to the playground in an orderly line, which was difficult. We all wanted to run so badly. We could see the playground all the way over there on the other side of the street, beckoning to us as we sat in our classroom learning our multiplication tables.

The shiny cardinal slide that was taller than our teacher. The bright red and yellow merry-go-round. The crimson two-seater teeter-totters(two kids could sit on either side). The brilliantly scarlet monkey bars. (The military must have gotten a discount on vermilion paint that year.)

On this particularly fine day, Eric wanted to go on the teeter-totter, so that is where we went first. We found two other people to join us on the two-seaters. Danny ended up behind me, and another boy was behind Eric. Up and down we all went, from the blue of the sky to the brown of the earth. Up and down, up and down, up and down...

Until that @#$&--er, Danny, slid off the teeter-totter. The two of us were at the bottom, and when he "accidentally on purpose" slid off into the dirt, the weight of Eric and his friend catapaulted me into the air. If I hadn't been hanging on to the handles I would have careened into the slide. I was hanging on for dear life, so when gravity asserted its hold over me, I fell. I fell face first onto the broad crimson board of the see-saw. SMACK!

I saw stars in a haze of magenta. It took me only a couple of seconds for me to sit up, and by then the Cavalry had shown up in the form of two actual adults. Who stood around a bit helplessly while I started bawling. I was actually hurt, but I figured that I would throw in a little extra drama to liven up the playground. I was a bit disoriented and it's likely that I had a mild concussion, but once I got off the teeter-totter, I thought that I was okay. Except for the lurid pain in my mouth. And the pain in my forehead. And the pain in my chest from hitting the board.

That's when I noticed that everyone was staring at me with genuine concern instead of that fake interest stuff. I looked down. Down the front of my favorite white tee shirt were shades of cherry, crimson, and cerise. Wounds around the mouth tend to bleed more, so I was naturally covered in hues of scarlet. Covered in blood from the mouth down. Blood. "AAAAAAAAAArgh!" I screamed from fear, as should anyone who finds themselves in this position. Once I realized that I did not have a gaping wound in my chest, I started to calm down. But that was when my mouth began to explode with pain, especially my lower lip. It seems that my two front teeth went into my lower lip. Ouch. Now that that question had been figured out, I held out my hands and looked at them. They were covered in burgundy that was drying in the sun. I wiped them off on my pants. In the mean time, I turned around to find Danny. He was hiding behind the cardinal slide, but I stalked over there, with my fat lip and maroon streaks and flakes all over my face and clothes. Danny just looked at me, and he did not try to deny anything. So I punched him in the face. Closer to the ear, I think. I wasn't good with the eye-hand coordination.

Monday, September 27, 2010

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.