Back To School, Back To Routine

Yesterday was the first day back to school for my two. Cue angels singing, right? It’s no surprise that I was happy to send them back to school after a week and a half with them at home while I tried to work. No one was having a lot of fun and they need the structure of the school routine.

We spent the weekend furiously getting everything ready for the school year. Washing new clothing, stocking the pantry with single-serve pouches of food for their lunchboxes, buying school supplies, and determining wake-up times for school mornings that would still have them ready for the bus on time.

The bus was a bit of an issue. First, they sent us our bus route information with no route assigned for Mira. This had happened last year, too. Since our school is outside of our “neighborhood” area, they don’t usually provide busing for us. But Cordy’s IEP means she does have an assigned route, with door-to-door pickup. Last year it was easy to get Mira assigned as well, once we pointed out that they live in the same house, and will be going to the same school – letting her sit on the same bus seemed like a no-brainer. Why this note for her didn’t carry forward into this year, I have no idea.

We were also concerned about the bus situation when we received an automated call the night before telling us there would be bus delays across the district. They’re short about 100 drivers – with new drivers unable to complete training before the end of September – so there would be district-wide delays. Beyond being angry at the district for not having a backup plan (their plan to contract in more drivers fell through) I wondered how slow this would make the buses now?

The kids were up early yesterday morning, excited and nervous for the day ahead. We had them ready long before the bus arrived and I exercised my parental right to torture them with first day of school photos.

 Cordy, 3rd gradeShe’s grown a foot since last year, I think.

 

Mira, 1st gradeMira still looks like she’s a small version of 16 years old.

Amazingly, the bus was only about five minutes late, so I had high hopes that they’d get to school on time. I grabbed all of their school supplies that didn’t fit into their backpacks and tossed them into the car, planning to meet the kids at the school for their first day. I left 30 minutes after they did. When I got to the school, about ten minutes before the start of classes, I found their bus hadn’t arrived yet.

I stood at the entrance and talked with the teachers while waiting on the bus. The bell rang to start classes and the bus still wasn’t there. I took Mira’s supplies down to her classroom and chatted briefly with her teacher, then went to the library for the first day welcome for parents. I chatted for about ten minutes, then walked back towards the front of the building to see if the bus had arrived yet.

Cordy was sitting at a table in the gym, eating a quick breakfast while Mira was tossing out her trash. (Both kids always accept the free breakfast, despite eating a big breakfast at home. I can’t seem to break them of this habit.) They had arrived five minutes before that, almost 20 minutes late for class. I asked Mira if she wanted me to show her where her class was, but she skipped off down the hall, waving back at me and saying, “No, it’s OK – I know where it is!” That kid will be in charge of the school by the time she’s in fifth grade.

But Cordy had a panicked look on her face. Having the bus bring her late can be a major anxiety trigger for her. She doesn’t like being late to something, and she told me over the summer that she gets nervous walking into a classroom when the other kids are already seated and working.

Her aide was with her and said she’d take her down to class, but Cordy’s eyes were large and she was clutching her chest (rapid heartbeat from anxiety) as she squeaked out, “I’m nervous…the other kids are already there and they’ll stare at me. I don’t want to go.”

I took her hand and leaned down to look at her. “Want me to go in with you, too? With me and Mrs. F, we’ll make sure you get started OK.” She nodded and we walked down to the other end of the building.

As we walked into the room, Cordy pulled back and tried to hide behind me. The other kids were sorting the supplies they brought in and no one was looking in her general direction. Her teacher this year is the same teacher she had for advanced reading last year, so they’re already familiar with each other. I tapped her teacher on the shoulder and let her know Cordy was late due to the bus.

Cordy’s teacher immediately welcomed Cordy back and called over her helper to meet Cordy. She asked Cordy to sit next to the helper so Cordy could catch up on what they had already sorted from the school supplies list. I handed my kid her supply bag, kissed her on the head and whispered, “You’ll have a great day. It’ll be better than you think it will.”

I wasn’t so sure of my own words. Walking out of that classroom, I wondered if Cordy would lose that grip on her anxiety and have a panic attack. She was with a familiar teacher, in a class where she already knew some of the kids – this should be a good setting for her. I hoped that the bus issue wouldn’t ruin her entire day.

As I was home working all day, I waited for the call from the school, expecting that something would come up. But there was no call.

I let them ride the bus home yesterday, hoping that by some miracle it would arrive by the scheduled 4:15pm drop off. Ha. It finally arrived at 4:45pm, just as I was reaching my upper limit of tolerance. The driver said it would be this way for about a month, but should then get better when they hire more drivers. I told her about the anxiety being late caused that morning, and asked if she could possibly start her route sooner to get them there on time. She said she’d look into it. I’ll give it a week or so before I decide if I start driving them to school or not.

The kids? They both had a great first day. Cordy immediately told me, “You were right, mom! The day went far better than I thought it would!” She did recognize kids who are friendly to her, and she even asked a very smart question to the principal during the school assembly on expectations for the year. Her question – what are the social rules for work time in the classroom?

Mira gave me a full recap of all of the friends who were in her class, and those who aren’t, as well as who she played with on the playground. She’s been assigned a task of carrying the lunch basket each day, too. She told me she already got her behavior card moved for – no surprise – talking. Her biggest problem in kindergarten was talking too much when she shouldn’t, so this year she may be in for a lot of behavior modification. But she plans to do better at not getting her card moved next week. It’s an ambitious goal, but one I’d love to see her meet.

I’m so proud of Cordy and Mira for handling themselves well on the first day. Cordy held back her urge to fall apart in a new situation, and Mira’s confidence is shining through as she tries to take leadership roles within her class and probably within the school later.

Cordy and Mira, back to school 2013And they didn’t fight (much) with each other for their first morning back to school!

While I’m a little sad to see my two girls growing up so fast, I think they’re going to have a great school year. If we could just buy a new house closer to the school so we don’t need the long bus rides, we’d be set. Maybe that’ll be a goal for next summer.



People Are Different and That’s OK

I’ve written before how Mira sometimes struggles with having an older sister with autism. Now that summer break is here, Cordy is her most frequent companion, at least until summer camp begins. She wants Cordy to play with her all the time, while Cordy would be completely happy to be left alone with a stack of books and the computer all day long. I’ve been playing referee between the two of them, trying to find a middle-ground of convincing Cordy to play with her sister a little, while also demanding that Mira give her sister some space when she needs time to herself.

On Monday I took Cordy to her weekly occupational therapy appointment. Mira had to come with us, since Aaron was not home from work yet. She gets terribly bored sitting in the waiting room, even with the iPad, several kid magazines and TV in the room. Since the weather has been nicer lately, she asked if we could go to the park near the office while we waited. We’ve done this a couple of times, and it’s definitely an easier way to wait out the appointment with Mira. Burning off some of her energy was preferable to the eventual trouble she’d get into in the waiting room, so I agreed and we went to the park.

Swinging at the parkMira loves the swings at this park, and has been working hard at learning to keep herself in motion without being pushed. I usually give her a few pushes to get her started, then sit on the swing next to her and provide encouragement.

This time, a few minutes after we were settled on the swings, another girl about Mira’s size wandered over to the swings, clutching a doll in a blanket. She looked at the empty swing on the other side of Mira, then turned to look across the playground and yelled out “Ma-ma! Sfing!”

Her mom, a disembodied voice on the other side of the playground equipment, yelled back, “I’m not pushing you!”

Mira, ever the chatty child, immediately called out to the girl, telling her that swinging was so much fun and she’s been learning how to keep herself going by kicking her legs out and pulling them back and that it really wasn’t hard at all. The girl nervously eyed the swing and clutched her doll tight, looking back and forth between her doll and the swing.

She then carefully set her doll down on the ground and sat in the swing, looking around as if she didn’t know how to get it started. The girl said something that sounded like “I like to swing sometimes,” but I had trouble understanding what she said.

Mira didn’t lose a beat and started telling the girl her name and then instructions on how to properly sit on a swing and where to hold the chains. (All while continuing to swing, of course.) Mira also volunteered me as a swing pusher, but having just heard the girl’s mom state she wouldn’t push her, I worried about getting involved. What if the girl’s mom was trying to make her learn on her own? I suggested she let the other girl try on her own first.

The little girl lifted her feet, but only swayed gently back and forth. She tried to give herself a little push-off with her feet, but didn’t get any momentum.

The little girl said a few sentences back to Mira, some not entirely directed to Mira but just said to the open air, and it was then I really noticed that she had a lot of trouble with clear speech. She also was unsteady as she moved, more so than many kids her age, and seemed to struggle with getting the strength to push herself to a starting swing.

I wondered if Mira would notice her new friend was different? So far, Mira was still caught up in her monologue about how to swing. But then she noticed the little girl wasn’t going anywhere. “Do you need a push?” she asked the girl. The little girl nodded, her long hair falling over her shoulders.

“Mommy, I need to stop,” she told me, as she tried to stop swinging without losing her flip-flops. She slowed down a little, then got impatient and popped out of the swing, stumbling a little from the unexpected momentum of stepping out of a moving swing.

Mira spun around to look at the girl, determined look on her face as she sized up the child in the swing, and then flashed a big smile at her and said, “OK, I’ll push you. Make sure you’re holding on!”

And then she pushed the little girl on the swing, instructing her the entire time when she needed to kick out her legs and when she needed to pull back. The girl tried to comply but wasn’t really coordinated enough. That didn’t stop Mira from yelling out encouragement, just like I had done with her two weeks prior. “Kick out! OK, now pull your legs back! Good! Kick out faster now!”

They both struggled to get momentum for her swing, and while I could see the girl was working very hard to stay balanced in the swing and follow Mira’s instructions, she was also having a fantastic time. Mira was all smiles as she pushed this stranger.

Once the girl was high enough, Mira jumped back into her swing, begging me to give her a quick push so they could swing together. Her new friend slowed down quickly, and Mira again asked me to push the girl. This time I did give her a few pushes, hoping no one would get upset with me for touching someone else’s child.

A few minutes later, the other girl slowed down again. She got out of the swing and picked up her doll, cradling it as she looked back and forth between Mira and the large playground structure next to the swings. “C’mon, swing some more,” Mira said to her as she continued swinging.

The little girl looked down at the ground and then stammered, “Play with me? There?” She pointed to the twisty slide.

Mira stopped her swing without hesitation. “Sure! Can you climb the stairs?” And off they ran to climb up the fort and slide down the slide. Mira, the kid who never wants to leave the swings, was happy to abandon them when this sweet girl asked her.

For the next ten minutes, Mira and her new friend played together. When the girl dropped her doll as she tried to climb out of a tunnel, Mira quickly came to the rescue and retrieved the doll for her. They both went down the slide several times and laughed at how it made their hair stick out.

Soon it was time to go, and I told Mira we had to go get Cordy from her appointment. Mira said goodbye to the other girl and gave her a big hug, reminding her to keep practicing on the swings. The girl looked so sad to be losing her friend, but then brightened when Mira hugged her.

As we went back to the office complex, Mira said, “I’m sad I had to leave my new friend. She was fun. I don’t know her name, but she’s still my friend.”

“I know you’re sad to leave her,” I replied, “And it was very nice of you to help her swing and teach her what you know. I’m proud of you.”

Mira thought about that for a moment, then took a deep breath and gave her “The More You Know” speech about the topic. (I swear she does this whenever she senses a lesson to be learned. Anyone who has spent time around her will totally know what I’m talking about.)  “Well, you helped me learn to swing. And it’s good to help other people who can’t do things you can do, right? Like Cordy can’t put toothpaste on her toothbrush, so I help her. And that’s OK, cause sometimes we need help, even if we look big enough to do something.”

“You’re totally right, sweetie.”

She wasn’t done yet. “And my friend talked kinda funny, too, but I used to talk funny when I was younger, right mama? You said people couldn’t tell what I was saying and I had to learn to talk right? I didn’t know everything she was sayin’ but then I thought that maybe she’s still learning to talk right, too! And that’s OK.”

(Yes, Mira likes to sum things up with “And that’s OK.” She could sum up just about any difference between people with “And that’s OK.” I probably taught that to her.)

At that moment I thought my heart would burst out of my chest with love and pride. The little girl she now called her friend was different, but Mira didn’t let that stop her from playing with the girl, and helping her when she needed it, so they’d both have a good time. She was kind and patient and helpful – I couldn’t possibly ask for more from my wise six year old.

Mira really has benefited from having an older sister with autism, even if she doesn’t realize it yet. It’s possible she’d be equally as sweet without a special needs sibling, but I think she has a unique insight into differences because of Cordy. I’m certain she helps Cordy every day by being constant social skills practice for her.

Now it’s clear to me that she has the ability to help others, too. That little girl at the playground had a friend to play with: a friend who helped her swing without judgement, encouraged her successes and never once asked why she talked funny. And that little girl helped Mira, too, giving her someone (besides me) to play with and making her very happy. They had so much fun together, like any two kids could.

Mira now hopes that little girl will be at the park next week. I do, too. And that’s OK.



Six: The Years Are Going By Too Quickly

Today, Mira woke up to greet her first day as a six year old.

I may have cried a little.

It doesn’t seem possible that my youngest daughter is turning six. That six years ago I went through 20-some hours of labor, after being nearly a week past my due date, to meet my fashionably late daughter who would count that as the beginning of a trend of doing things her own way.

She was an adorable baby. I remember how clingy she was – she liked to be touching me at all times, and still does that today when she’s feeling insecure and becomes a “space invader.” We couldn’t persuade her to do anything as a baby – it was all accomplished due to internal motivation. She watched me eating and demanded solid foods for herself. She learned to crawl because she wanted to get to Cordy’s goldfish crackers. (I’m sensing a food theme here…) It took extraordinary effort to get a smile out of her – always so serious, soaking in everything around her as if she was silently judging us all. Except for Cordy – she would always brighten up and smile for her big sister.

Mira at 11mo old - always seriousWhy so serious, baby?

It’s hard to tell that there was once a time when Mira couldn’t speak clearly. Her speech is still a little difficult to understand, but not much worse than the average kindergartener. Gone are the days of speaking mostly in vowel sounds only, and while she still occasionally substitutes some consonants, she gets her point across. Therapy helped her recover from speech apraxia, and she has proven that by encouraging her to talk, we will never again get any peace in this house.

Now she’s six. She’s not my baby anymore. She’s a kid, with her chubby preschooler limbs replaced with long arms and legs, her face thinner, and looking more grown up every day.

Mira at threeI miss those curls, too.

Five was a big year for her: she was off to kindergarten, she lost her first (and her second) tooth, she went to Disney World, she rode her first big roller coaster, and she’s started learning to read. It’s been an exciting year.

She had a birthday party this weekend. Well, three parties actually. Friday night we had an informal dinner with Aaron’s family, where we just happened to have cake and presents for Mira, too. Then Saturday was her “official” party. She requested a party at Chuck E. Cheese and invited all of her friends from school. Ten kids were with her to celebrate, and she effortlessly spent time with all of them, running off to play games with different kids every few minutes, making sure no one was left out. She’s a social butterfly, always needing other people around her at all times.

blowing out her birthday candles

And then yesterday we went to a family reunion, where again there happened to be presents for her. She didn’t mind that she didn’t know most of the distant cousins in the house. She just assumed they were all there for her birthday, too. Why wouldn’t everyone celebrate her birthday?

Her greatest strength, and greatest flaw, is her sensitivity. She can read people with ease, quickly coming to a friend’s side when needed and trying her very best to be a good person and do what she thinks is right. But that skill has given her tissue-paper skin around her ego, with her emotions bubbling just under the surface and breaking through at the slightest tilt in any direction.  When Mira laughs, it’s hard not to join in and she makes everyone around her feel happy. When she feels the smallest slight, the world is ending and nothing I do can console her. Tears can spring from her eyes with no warning at all.

She continues to have that inner drive pushing her forward in life. She wants to see it all, do it all, and when she’s really determined, she’s not afraid at all. If she is focused, she could rule the world. My only fear is that she’ll discover she doesn’t need us long before we can’t live without her. I will forever be asking her to not grow up so quickly, to enjoy this moment and this age, and she will likely be trying to do more, see more, be more before I want her to.

I miss the baby, but I love the girl she’s become and the young woman she’s turning into. She’ll have to tolerate her emotional mother for some time to come, watching her mature and wishing the clock would move just a bit more slowly to give me more time with her as a five year old, a six year old, and more years to come.

Six years. Just…wow.

Jedi Mira at Disney World



May the Fourth…

Those in geeky circles know that May 5 may be Cinco de Mayo, but May 4 is also a holiday. It’s Star Wars Day! Get it? No? Say this: “May the fourth be with you.” Now do you get it?

(It’s a play on “May the force be with you” if it still doesn’t make any sense to you.)

When we recently went to Disney World, Mira got to take part in the Jedi Training Academy at Hollywood Studios. She was part of a class of kids who were trained to do a short lightsaber fight routine, and then put their training to the test when Darth Vader came out to challenge them.

Jedi Mira with LightsaberLook at the concentration on that face.

Each kid had their moment to shine, facing Vader one-on-one. Naturally, Darth Vader made sure to follow the kid’s lead and not accidentally hit them, although Vader did get tagged a few times by kids who didn’t follow the choreography, including Mira. It was very, very cool, and Mira didn’t get scared at all when it was her time to face off against the (very tall) Vader. Nerves of steel, that kid.

Jedi Mira vs Darth VaderThat’s her Jedi Master next to her, helping guide her through the fight sequence and giving moral support.

Mira still tells us she’s a Jedi now and she knows how to use the force. She’s so proud of her accomplishment.

This particular Star Wars Day also happen to be Free Comic Book Day at your local comic store, too. Be sure to visit them and pick up some free comics.

And, to make this the geekiest Saturday ever, it’s also the opening weekend of Iron Man 3. We got to see a sneak preview earlier this week, and I highly recommend seeing it. If you want to read a full review of it, check out Aaron’s review of Iron Man 3 on his blog.

It’s a good day to be a geek. Happy Star Wars Day, everyone! Just because I can’t get enough of Mira in her Jedi robe, here’s one more photo to leave you with:

Jedi Mira



At Least I’m Appreciated For Something

Mira’s kindergarten class has been practicing the art of writing letters. They’ve mostly been working on the “hey, how are you?” type letters, but it has been mentioned that they can write thank you notes, too.

We’ve also tried to teach our kids the importance of saying thank you and being grateful when someone gives you something or does something helpful for you.

So I shouldn’t have been surprised when Mira proudly presented me with a thank you note. She admitted she got help from daddy on spelling some of the words, and help in taping it back together when it ripped as she pulled it out of her notebook. But the sentiment? All hers.

Mira's note to meI’m the blue person on the left, Mira is the pink one in the middle – her marker was drying up and it got fuzzy.

Of all of the things she could think of to thank me for, she chose taxes. I’m really not sure what to say to that.

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