grrlTravels

7 is fabulous

It isn't like I haven't been fabulously in love with E. for the past 7 1/2 years but lately I've been falling for him all over again. Seven has been a good year for E. what with the confidence from (I'm guessing) karate and ice skating, his ease with school work, and his burgeoning personality.

He is finally losing some awkwardness with the assistance of karate, ice skating, and his climbing class. He's been uncoordinated, hitting his milestones late and just not physically where many of his peers were. I worried a bit, not much, and left him be. We've avoided soccer and t-ball after some ugliness from the boys in Kindergarten (!), content to see what happened with him while the days were passing and he was aging out of seemingly every sport out there. (Seriously, people, do not get me started on that one.) I adore watching him do anything physical--running, biking, climbing, you name it, I'm there grinning.

I am pretty much confused about what they teach first graders these days but E.'s taken everything in stride—reading, adding, subtracting, beginning multiplication, fractions (seriously???). It is lovely to watch. I love pretty much everything he writes, even the boring school stuff. How could you not love this, a story E.'s working on titled "The Dark Side":

Eddie Kindavalley and Claraine S. war walking down the street. They lived in apartment 39. "What shod we chat about next" Eddie asked. "Dogs" Claraine said "and cats" Eddie added.

That's chapter 1. He had me at Claraine (pronounced "chlorine").

You never know when they're going to hit, those moments of ridiculous affection and confidence and knowing. You never know when parenthood is going to reach out and smother you with kittens and rainbows and ladybugs and happy trolls. It's scary and wonderful at the same time.

Scary and wonderful. I'll take it.

organic stress relievers

I've been wanting a food-producing garden for quite some time but if you saw our postage stamp of a back yard you might have been as flummoxed as I was. Space concerns aside, this year I finally put my foot down figuratively but emphatically and told K. in no uncertain terms that I was getting raised beds for my birthday. I mentioned this to my good friend T. who emailed me a link for little raised bed kits thereby making me really, really happy and solving my problem of how to motivate K. to produce my raised beds. [Thank you T.! Kits for raised beds. Who knew?]

After probably more effort than you would need to expend we have three raised beds at home and a clear bed with new soil at the beach house. We aren't fast, but we get the job done eventually. The plants are in, the seeds are sewn and watering is happening. And now that it's all in place I feel serene. Really. Serene! I love to go out back, I love to look at the plants and watch them grow, I love to smell the herbs (planted mint just to pinch the leaves), I love the fact that the boxes are there, in my yard.

Why did I wait so long? I don't know, but I can tell you that my 40s have brought me to the place where if I have wanted something for a long time, something that will not go away, I'm looking for ways to make it happen. Life's too short yadda yadda yadda. I've got my vegetable gardens! I'm in love with almost every leaf! (Why do the tomato plants have nasty looking leaves already? We haven't even done enough to screw them up yet!) I feel serene!

13 isn't always a bad number, right?

Another Earth Day, another anniversary for K. and I. 13 years it is this year, 13 years of relative peace and comfort with each other.

That said, year 12 was not our best year. In fact year 12 was the year a giant tick arrived out of nowhere to land on the scalp of our relationship. He dug in, shoved his ugly little arachnid hypostome (i.e., sucker tube) under our tender head skin, and started to suck out all the good, nourishing stuff he could syphon off. He grew rather plump before I saw him, and by rather plump I mean he was a gigantic loathsome blot of ectoparasite wretchedness. Bottom line: you do not want a giant tick befouling your relationship.

To put it more bluntly, there were a lot of economic and other stressors which trickled into our relationship, some hard times, loneliness on my part, some fear too. This thing, this partnership with K. which is so vital to my happiness and wellbeing has a seeming life of its own some days. K. + me = a whole new entity in a way which I really didn't understand until year 12. And that whole new entity? Is kind of hard to control some days, running and skipping and lurking and disappearing like it does. Also that new entity does not understand the threat of the tick.

People tell me all of the time (older, wiser people not living in a bubble of denial as it turns out) that even good marriages have their rough patches. And in the past I've been known to nod knowingly while thinking to myself That's true. But not for us. Yeah. I won't be doing that again any time soon.

So. Parts of year 12 really sucked. And here's what I learned. Try not to freak out. There are definitely times to freak out and times not to freak out, but try not freaking out first. Communicate, especially when you don't want to, especially ESPECIALLY about what you don't want to. (That thing? That giant disease carrying, blood sucking mite in the middle of the room? Maybe talk about that when you are able.) Figure out what you are afraid of, face it, and then move forward, somehow. It took me months and months to realize my feelings, understand them, accept them, and move forward. Too many months really. Especially after 15 years of therapy.

Hopefully if you find yourself in a year 12 you are married to someone like K., someone who is committed to talking it out, committed to sticking around, understanding the stakes and accepting that there will be not-so-good times, times when you are completely out of sync or wanting complete different things or feeling deep down just freaking angry about something that won't go away. And I said to myself more than once "This Too Shall Pass" and you know what? It did. Finally.

And man, how I love him. So, so, so very much, more now than I did when I married him, more now than before we hit our latest rough patch, more now than when I was breathless every time I saw him. He's a good man, honest, caring, thoughtful and filled to the brim with integrity. I desperately needed a man like him in my life for most of the years he wasn't there, and I'm so grateful to have him now.

We kicked the giant tick to the curb and got on with the business of being married and raising kids. Today we are like two little bunnies frolicking in the back yard. (I'm sure K.'s imagery would not involve bunnies, but mine does and it's my blog so bunnies it is.) We had a good anniversary and I'm looking forward to year 13. Also I bought a big tube of OTC organic non-pesticide-containing tick repellant, and I'm staying out of the tall grass for a bit. Happy Earth Day, people!

h. e. l. p. m. e.

I do not know what to do about Z. and Kindergarten and I badly need some outside perspective before I drive myself completely insane about something that might be ok either way.

The elementary school is very clear on their position. Z. is now 5 and will be six in October. She will be enrolled in Kindergarten. They are giving her the standardized tests now to make sure that she still needs an IEP. (ha!) The tests will confirm if she has some type of learning disability. At that point they will let us know what additional accommodations, if any, they will make for her. Since she will be of age for Kindergarten, she will not be allowed in the preschool program for another year. (dude. bummer.)

Although I am not thrilled about their position, I understand it. It seems that the prevailing wisdom in academia these days is to keep the kids with their chronological peers and make accommodations when necessary. They have rules that they follow in order to keep things running smoothly and to be fair to everyone. The rules make sense. And if you think that perhaps Z. will always be as she is now, that she will never come close to "catching up" and that her issues are very long term, then perhaps it makes a lot of sense to stick her in Kindergarten, let her learn what she can learn, and continue that way until she is finished with school.

Thing is, I've given this a LOT of thought and right now I have not convinced myself that Kindergarten next year is the right thing for Z. She knows her letters (upper case), can spell her name, and writes a terrible approximation of her name on occasion. Her motor planning skills are poor (area of greatest weakness) which affects her ability to write. Her fine motor skills are still weak (but improving), her ability to reason and think things through seems very off to me, and she is frequently overwhelmed in her preschool class of 12 (whereas Kindergarten will be 20 children at least). When she gets overwhelmed she shuts down, sucking her tongue or rocking or staring vacantly. In my opinion (and I have no background in education or special needs therapy or anything of the sort) she is not ready emotionally, socially, academically, or developmentally. The only way it seems to me she is ready is chronologically. I worry that a whole year of shutting down because she a) doesn't understand what is being taught, b) is overwhelmed by the noise or confusion, or c) is completely frustrated with the work being given to her will be counterproductive. I will say that being around her peers has been good for her in preschool and she will try things and do things because she sees the other kids doing them.

So. If you have had to make a similar decision or if you are an education professional or if you have some kind of advice for me, puh-leez leave a comment. Perhaps I need a different perspective, perhaps there is a way of thinking about this that I am not thinking, maybe you see something I can't see, perhaps there is information I still need to make a good decision for her. I am vaguely open to homeschooling, but I will tell you straight out that I do not understand Z., I do not have the knowledge or skills to help her, and I worry that I will just make things worse for her.

Help. Me.
Seriously.