Tiny Flags

I have to confess: I am totally addicted to checking out the Feedjit icon on the blog, it's almost better than chocolate or shopping. Five months after I installed it, it still gives me a shiver of absolute happiness to see more flags (for the US readers) or new flags from other countries. Though I did spend time mulling over why someone in Qatar, Greece and even Canada would drop by for even a quick read and how they found my little corner of the blog-o-sphere. But don't misudnerstand, I am happy they did and by leaving their electronic footprint (and flag) on the Feedjit map; it makes me feel like I've won the lottery.

And now this morning, two enormous surprises: Kazakhstan and China. Thank you whoever you are for dropping in, hope I didn't bore you to tears and please come back anytime.

If you're in the mood for a laugh, find a video clip of Eddie Izzard's comedy bit on flags (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UTduy7Qkvk8), he's one of my favorite comedians - and the way things have been going with our plans to send Micah to Summit Speech School, I might need to go in search of a laugh for myself.

And it just gets worse. . .

Today was Micah's transition day at Summit Speech School. He spent time in his classroom with Heather and the two children he will be grouped with. We arrived at school on time (for a change), Micah got to go with the school nurse to label his cot and see where he'll be having naps. I brought one of the hearing aid dehumidifiers and a blanket/pillow bedroll that Oma bought him last November at the National Lutheran Home Fall Festival.

While Micah was checking things out in the nap room I told the nurse and the school's executive director who also just happened to be in the room about our situation with Micah's transportation. Their faces just fell, even before they could get the Oh-Nos out of their mouths, I knew that this was worse than I had anticipated, and simply not an appropriate means of getting Micah to school.

That was bad enough. At noon the school district's case manager calls and leaves a message on our answering machine. There was a 'situation' on the bus - but no word on if it was specifically the one Micah would be riding or the details of what occured - and they now are rethinking how to get Micah to school (excellent) but they cannot get any new arrangements made by Monday (bad, especially since we've worked preparing him for his birthday and starting school for the past two weeks).

So this leaves us with me transporting Micah Monday, possibly sending him back to the babysitter's on Tuesday and me driving again on Wednesday. Summit School was very accomodating with this new development. Micah's sitter can take him Tuesday for most of the day, I'll need to cancel work on Wednesday if a schedule was put in for that date. The logistical domino effect just keeps clicking away, and what is irritating about it is that they have had more than adequate time to make appropriate arrangements. This was not one of those 'the IEP was signed yesterday and now the logistics need to be worked out.'

I won't even begin to whine about having made three trips to school in the past three days (one Wednesday, two today). That would be whining and I never do that. Ever.

Then in a further development we ran into the family of another child from the township who went to Summit School, who went through a similar situation with the transportation - and the child's mother said "oh, they tell you the others on the bus are eight to 13 years old, but they've been that age for three years or more"; most are adolescents or older, some have to be restrained (read: not just with a simple seat belt) on the bus and moan and cry for the whole hour's trip to school. Oh perfect. Not exactly the greatest role models for an impressionable three-year old.

So I have gone from we can give this a trial period and see how it goes to NOT MY CHILD. FIX IT. NOW.

This parent also told me that another township family retain the services of an attorney - so just when I thought we could forget about needing the special education advocate, the possibility of having to go that route is rearing its ugly head and aiming its fingers toward our wallets.

On the up side of this rather dismal day, I got some long over due errands done: returning a shirt that was purchased in a fit of 60s nostalgia that was just tragic once it was put on, getting Micah's birthday check from Oma into the bank as well as the contents of Thea's piggybank (so much for that vow that we'd empty it monthly this is the first time since December, I think), mailing off bills, picking up some pants at Target for Micah because all of his 2Ts are looking like capris on him.

Amidst our errands I wanted to go to Toys-R-Us to pick up a present for Thea to take to a birthday party tomorrow - and Micah has been nagging, nagging, nagging for Mavis, one of Thomas the Tank Engine's pals, so after returning the tragic blouse to Bridgewater Commons, I asked the GPS to find one.

And it did. It sent me to the Corporate Distribution Center in the middle of an industrial park in Somerset. So in addition to the school district's transportation department, the Garmin Nuvi is currently occupying a rather prominent spot on my sh*t list.

In between trips to Summit School, we had to return home for Micah's last session with the speech therapist. She brought Micah a really nice Thomas the Tank Engine puzzle, 24 very large pieces that he enjoyed playing with and talking about. Then we picked up Thea at school and went off to the bank - we bank at TD Bank not for its sound fiscal guardianship of the children's money, but because they have nice lollipops. They spent at least five minutes in the bathroom mirror admiring their green tongues and teeth before I made them brush and get ready to go out.

Tonight was Summit School's Family Fun Night. We went last year, and they seemed to have a good time, so I paid for us to attend at one of the Wednesday group sessions. We arrived on time, so we could explore, purchase tickets for the basket raffle (we won nothing), have some hot dogs and junk food. Thea loved the clown/magic show last year - and this year she was right in the front row, heckling the clown when he was trying to fool the audience.

We met a Summit alum who was on American Gladiator (though I am clueless as to what the show is exactly about) and went to a puppet show before settling in for the magic show. Micah's gastrointestinal tract chose this moment to blow; I got a whiff and when I lifted his shirt, the contents of his diaper were at the top of the diaper ready to go up his back. Ick, ick and double ick. And I had just used to diaper I had in my purse to change him when we got to school. So I had to hustle him out to the parking lot to do a major clean up.

So all in all this was a totally karm-less day.

Suboptimal

The school district's transportation department will not be making it onto our family's holiday card list. We did get a call on Thursday, but Micah will be riding a van with a driver and an aide AND four children ages eight to 13 with development disabilities.

(Read in my mommy subtext: four children who are at least twice as big as my little peanut, and whose behavior could be questionable. With a three-year old strapped in a car seat like a turkey on a platter - if the turkey could wear $8K of microelectronics on its missing head.)

I am NOT pleased. And when Steve called the transportation person, even she admitted that this was not the ideal situation, but it's what was available. . . .and she tried to sugar-coat it by telling him that the bus driver and the aide have been working together for nine years, as if that would somehow make it fine. "Your child is being put on a van with a bunch of behavioral unknowns, but the warden and the guard of this little rolling prison work well together"-type stuff. Bite me.

I am at a loss as to what to do: Allow it to go forward and see how the first day goes? Raise hell and wind up with no transportation? If he does go on the van Monday, my car is going to be fired up and ready to go and I'll be driving as if attached to its tailpipe by an umbilical cord.

Top Chef

A topic that is a complete detour from the usual stuff about kids, preschool, whining (though not really), etc.

I hope Carla wins Top Chef tonight. I was royally pissed last week when Fabio got bumped off and Stefan went to the final. Too arrogant, too annoying - and he smokes, a real pet peeve of mine. How can he even get the nuances and subtleties of his cooking with a nice coating of nicotine on his tongue?

Carla's from Washington, DC (yeah!), she became a chef as a midlife career change (let's hear it for those too!) and she's consistently kind yet competitive.

If Stefan wins tonight, I am boycotting the next season of Top Chef, hear me now Tom and Padma.

The last week of almost three. . .

Sunday the wee beasties and I drove to Easton, PA to visit the Crayola Factory and National Canal Museum again. The day started grey and rainy, so it was a good day to get out of the house and avoid all the tidying up it so desperately needs. The kids had a great time with the various art projects - the model magic clay was probably the biggest hit this time. I liked the triarama (a triangular diarama).

Micah got his sleeves thoroughly soaked pushing his canal boat through the locks at the Canal Museum. The upper floor was closed off so the display where the flow of water can be manipulated by putting up various walls and dividers wasn't accessible, which was a bit disappointment.

Overall they were really good, with Micah only pitching a fit once when I wouldn't buy him this hideous stuffed cow. He had to be hauled out screaming, "Want cow, I want cow!" I wasn't going to buy it mostly because the evil clerk said she was closing the shop and it was only 4:50 pm (closing time was listed as 5 pm). We went to the Crayola Store to see the world's largest crayon, blue - Thea's favorite color and with a 'birthday' two days before hers, October 11, 2003.

Monday night I called our case manager at the school district with the "I know the transportation office has done this plenty of times, but this is my first and only preschooler who is supposed to be going to school on Monday and I haven't heard anything about how this will happen" routine. Got the polite phone call back, someone will call on Thursday or Friday, but she did leave the name of the person to contact, so she will be getting the same version of Monday night's phone call. I don't mean to be a jerk, but until proven otherwise and worthy of my respect, I am not giving my trust to these wienies on spec.

Two has been relatively easy, but the early stages of three are going to prove life-threatening for one of us. Micah's become much more stubborn, willful and naughtier - he hears better than ever but isn't doing a great job listening.

Saturday

Today was the get-together for our first adoption travel group: five families from the original 13 who went to ChongQing together, plus two more families in the area who arrived in Guangzhou to start the in-province portion the night we arrived for our US Consulate processing week.

(I should did out the email I sent to friends and family about that night in September 2004: our adopton agency in its selfish desires to minimize trips to the airport, scheduled both groups to arrive at approximately the same time - the late-ish hour wasn't a big deal for the group arriving from Beijing and who would be in Guangzhou for their entire trip, but we had 13 babies in our group. Thea had screamed and howled for almost the entire flight from ChongQing to Guangzhou. Steve was in nervous parent mode so he wanted her safely confined to the car seat, I wanted her in my lap to see if that would settle her down. Whether it was the cabin pressure's effect on her ears, confinement to the car seat that could be used in an airline seat or just general irritation at her lot in life. Everyone on that flight knew us by the time we got off the plane. By the time we got our luggage, were bussed to the White Swan Hotel, got in to our rooms, it was really, really late, and we had to be up and ready to go for visa photos at 8 am.)

The girls are all five years old, three are in kindergarten. They all have changed so much since September 2004. Micah was the sole boy as the one family with a son wasn't able to make it. It didn't seem to phase him much, and he was in the mix and enjoying himself - and he didn't color on the walls or make any other horrific messes. Bonus.

We see these families once or twice a year, yet each time we all do get together we seem to just pick up where we left off. Photos to follow at some point.

Micah is repeating after the GPS, on those increasingly rare occaisons when I have the mute off. The GPS says, "Turn right," then the voice comes from the back seat, "Turn right." So far he hasn't managed to say, "Arriving at destination," though.

Keeping charged up. . . .

I feel like I have become a servant to my gadgets, each with its own charger: the bluetooth headset and its charger/case was out in the car,buried under stuff on my front seat, the charger cord in my backpack; the GPS at the moment only has the car charger - which made it a challenge when Thea wanted her DVD player's charger plugged in to watch movies on the way to Oma's last weekend but one day it may have its own wall charger; the cell phone in my purse, charger upstairs on my dresser in the GPS's box (don't ask), the PDA with its cradle on the computer. And the camera has its charger, and its batteries have a charger as well. Right now, after a ten-minute traipse through the house and out to the car to play the technology matching game, all my elecctronic children are plugged into their chargers.

One day I'd love to have the cell phone, GPS and PDA all in one versus the current juggling act.

Meanwhile, I've got to get the ingredients to bake Nestle Tollhouse cookies for our adoption group gathering tomorrow so it doesn't become a midnight baking project.