Do you speak Moo?

So...Isaac has been pretending to be a cow lately.  Otis, from the movie Barnyard, to be exact.

I know what you're thinking, which one is which?  He's pretty good at it, right?  (Isaac is the cute one with the glasses.)

This new phase of Isaac's bugs me a little.  First of all because I don't like that movie, and secondly because, well, I really don't like that movie.

Most of the time pretending to be a cow isn't very exciting.  Isaac does a lot of "standing around" on all fours pretending to chew his cud.  Seriously, we will all be hanging out in the living room, having fun, when I suddenly notice that Isaac is down on the floor again looking placidly around and moving his jaw up and down.  What a weirdo!  I mean, I understand the desire to howl at the moon like a wolf and gallop around on a stick horse pretending to be a cowboy, but cud chewing?  I just don't get it.

Yesterday, Isaac finally introduced me to something about this new cow thing that I could get into:  Speaking Moo.

Last night, I spent some time hunting down a new tube of kid's toothpaste.  "I found some, Isaac," I proudly announced as I presented him with the item that would aid him in his least favorite bedtime activity.

"Good for you," he replied in that Isaac-ish way that lets you know he does not think you have done anything grand.

"Isaac," I warn, "you know you're not supposed to say that.  It bugs your teachers at school, and I don't appreciate it either."

"Sorry, Moo,"  he says quickly.  Then, he turns to me and, as an afterthought, asks, "Do you speak Moo?"

I was laughing so hard, I had to nod to let him know that "Moo" was a language I must speak, because I had clearly understood what he had said.

"Mooo," he replied with a big smile.  Which, of course, meant "Good."  And, we were off...We can now communicate very fluently in Moo.  It is spoken much like "Smurf" and there is no talking with your mouth full of cud.  Those are pretty much the only rules.

I wanted to let you know, just in case Isaac invites you over to his barn for a chat and some dancing.

You can confidently reply, "Moo," and come on over.

Sometimes Everyone Needs a Little Push

Yesterday, I actually pushed Josie through the door of Harmony Library's 4-year-old and Up Story Time.

Can you blame me?  The kids get to go in by themselves while the moms get to venture into the wonderful world of adult books.  Wait, that doesn't sound right.  Let me re-phrase.  I got to visit the part of the library that holds adult fiction and quietly peruse books that have no colorful drawings in them without reminding anyone around me not to make so much noise, or to stop climbing on those little step stools they keep in the aisles.

It really was worth the bit of stabbing guilt that accompanied that little shove.  I watched through the window for about 5 seconds to make sure she wasn't crying, and I was off without a backward glance.  (OK, I circled around once to make sure she was still sitting quietly before I left the Children's section completely.  I'm not heartless.)

I spent the next half hour tracking down books on my to-read list and deciding which ones to take home.  It really was marvelous.

Josie never used to be nervous about leaving me.  Not until she broke her leg a year ago.  I've thought a lot about this, and I think maybe it's because I wasn't there when it happened.  I was at speech therapy with Isaac.  She will forever love Evan for staying on the trampoline with her and holding her head while they waited for the ambulance to come.  She still talks about that.  Twice this week actually.

Of course, I'll never know if that is what really has caused her sometimes freakish attachment to me.  (It is not consistent at all.  She goes to school fine and does lots of things with no problem. I just can't figure what causes her to sometimes grab onto me with no intention of letting go.)

I hope she heals soon from whatever emotions are causing this behavior.  I don't want my sweet, out-going girl's life to be hampered by fear.  I'm sure she'll grow out of it at some point.

Until then, I'll be there to shove her through whatever doors appear too daunting, so she can emerge later with a big smile on her face and say, "That was fun, Mom!"

Waiting

 

When I had Kimball, my first born, I became a mother.  It was wonderful, scary, challenging, and fun.

When I had Evan, my second boy, I became a mother who understands that all children are unique individuals from the moment they are born.

When I had Isaac, my third boy, who has Down syndrome, I became a mother who enjoys an eternal perspective.  I learned what is important, and what is really important.

When I had Josie, my first girl, I became a mother who understands that there is an innate difference between boys and girls.  One is not better than the other, they are just necessarily different...what a marvelous thing.

I have learned many things from each of my children along the way, but the most valuable lesson I have learned is to turn to my Heavenly Father when I am struggling to be the mother He knows I can be.  Sometimes, I forget.  I try to plow through problems alone until I realize that I'm not making any progress.  Then, I bow my head and ask for help.  And, you know what?  He is always there...waiting.

My Little Artist

Notice on her All About Me poster, her outfit matches the one she is wearing.

Josie is an artist.

I realize that doesn't necessarily mean she will grow up to be an artist by trade.  In fact, she has told me emphatically, "When I grow up, I want to be a scientist, and I'm not changing my mind!"

Whether it's bugs or berries, Josie likes to study it.  The picture on the left shows her watching her ant named Elevator.

I think the exclamation mark that definitely accompanied that statement was used in response to how many times people have told her she could be an artist someday.

I don't know, or care, if she will grow up and make a career out of her talent.  (Maybe she'll be a stay at home mom who illustrates books...maybe one of those books will be written by me...)  I'm not the sort of mom that imagines my child's whole life out before they start kindergarten.  (...Won't we have fun when Disney makes the book into a movie, and we get to spend time together in California?...)  Those types of parents shouldn't let their imaginations run wild.  They need to let their kids live their own lives.  (...I'll watch the twins, Tracy and Stacy, while she helps the Disney artists capture the feel of the characters.)  Seriously though, I hope she knows that I don't care what she does as long as she's happy.

Art makes her happy.  I think even if she becomes a scientist, she won't desert her art completely.  Once when she was four she came to me practically in tears.  When I asked her what was wrong she cried, "I haven't painted anything today!"

This was one of those small moments when you learn a lot about your child.  I saw in her eyes that not only does she love to paint, she feels she needs to paint.

October 2009

September 2010

It's not only painting.  She also loves to draw, color, sculpt and, simply, create.

April 2009

July 2011--I was cleaning out the garage when I noticed Josie had brought her drawing outside.  She was drawing the tree across the street.

September 2011

The way she puts colors together has fascinated me for years.  One calm afternoon while the boys were at school, we lay on the floor coloring side by side.  I was planning a beautiful monochromatic My Little Pony in which I would use all the different purples in our 64-count crayon box.  I was combining darks and lights and telling her the names of all the purples because, of course, she can see that they are all different and must know what they are called.  I was enjoying the unusual quiet when Josie leaned over and said, "Mom, aren't you going to put more color in your picture?  Here try some yellow with that."  She was right.  One strand of pony hair colored yellow made all the purples pop.

 

We recently invited family members over for her first Art Show.  We covered the walls of our home with some of her masterpieces and Josie got to discuss her art.  We ate BBQ and talked about the pictures of family, flowers, and animals covering the walls.  She gave a small art talk/tour which ended at the wall by the bathroom.

Her most popular works were her abstracts.  Like I said, that girl knows how to put colors together.

My favorite story happened last year when she returned to preschool after recovering from her broken leg.  It seems, in her absence, the boys and girls had paired off into preschool versions of girlfriends and boyfriends.  (To protect the innocent I have refrained from using full names.)  She came home from school one day and said, "D--- and J--- are together.  A---- and DJ---- are together.  They want me to go with B---, but, Mom, I just can't be with someone who scribbles!"

I'm glad my girl has standards.

I'm glad that she has found something she loves so much.

I'm glad that even though she doesn't look like this anymore...

January 2008

 She is still my little artist.

A New Take on Fuzz Therapy

First, let me introduce you to Calvin's idea of fuzz therapy--

We definitely like his kind of fuzz therapy, but we are putting a whole new twist on the term. You see, a week ago we found out Isaac is afraid of cats.  No, afraid isn't the right word.  TERRIFIED (yes, in capital letters) is more like it.

It was not a pleasant experience for anyone. We went to a friend's house Saturday night for dinner and games, that part was fun, but whenever their very calm, sweet cat appeared, Isaac went nuts.  Crying, clinging to Mat, refusing to use the bathroom because he had seen the cat walk by there 20 minutes before.  Craziness!  It made me want to cry to see him feeling that way, and because of a cat no less.

Mid-way through the evening, I boldly declared to Mat, "We need to get a cat."

It took boldness because Mat has never hidden the fact that he is not fond of cats.  Fast forward three days.  It is Tuesday and Mat comes home from the gym.  I introduce him to the cat that he had given his consent for just 24 hours before.  He groans and says, "That is not a cat.  It's a kitten."

"It was free," I say smiling, and cuddling the cutest kitten I have ever seen.

Introducing the kitten to Isaac didn't go as smoothly.  I picked him up from school and asked him if he wanted to see what I had in the soft bag that was hanging from my arm.  He excitedly drew nearer to take a peek, and at the sight of the fuzzy kitten's face staring up at him took a flying leap back to the wall of the school.  I wasn't sure I could talk him into getting in the car with me and was cursing myself for showing it to him.  He did get in the car eventually, and we officially started down our own road of Fuzz Therapy.

I was not able to talk Isaac into getting close to the new kitten, but Evan and Josie were more successful.  Notice in the picture how Evan is gripping Isaac's shoulder to keep him from running away.

Poor Kimball is already at school and didn't get into our new kitten picture.

I tried to let Isaac name the kitten, so he would feel involved, but Evan refused to call the kitten, Monkey Girl.  I suggested Patches or Kit Kat which led to most of us calling her Kit Kat and Isaac telling everyone at school that he had a new cat named Patches.  She has finally been dubbed Kit Kat by all.

Kit Kat--Eight weeks old

We are slowly making progress.  Some days we have real breakthroughs.

Isaac playing with Kit Kat and her favorite toy.

Other days we have set backs.  Like last night when I woke up at 2am to find Isaac asleep sitting up on the couch because Kit Kat had come into his bed and tried to cuddle.  Today, he was much less fond of her.  But we try to focus on the successes.

It turns out Isaac wasn't the only one that had to get used to being around another creature.  I thought Wilma was going to have a nervous breakdown.  Thank heavens Kit Kat could take care of herself.

You'd think Wilma would learn after the first few swipes that cats scratch when sniffed.

They are friends now...sort of.

We sure get a kick out of watching them together.  The funniest thing is that Wilma has practically no sense of smell so she isn't a very good kitten locator, though she would like to be.  One day, just to mess with her I put a small shoe box over Kit Kat.

Wilma was very nearby when I did it.  The box was gliding along the floor on white paws.  I couldn't believe how long it took Wilma to find her.

Ah, what an adventure we have had thus far!

Wish us luck as we continue with Fuzz Therapy.

I was excited to see this.

Maybe someday we'll see Isaac like this.  That is what I call Fuzz Therapy!

A Boy and His iPad

I love that Isaac can "read" the Kung Fu Panda 2 storybook five times a day on his own. (I never enjoy those movie synopsis books.)

The iPad has had a big impact on Isaac's life, but not in the way that I had foreseen.  I thought it might simply help him learn new things.  It's gone beyond that.  It's helped him become more independent.

Before purchasing one, Mat and I went back and forth about whether it would be worth the money.  The touchscreen we'd purchased for our computer hadn't been a hit, it just frustrated him as does the computer mouse.

Isaac hates technology and is the only kid in his special ed class that didn't want to play on the classroom iPads.  His teacher even loaned one to us over a school break, to help us decide whether or not to get one for him.  There are so many wonderful educational applications that are exactly what Isaac needs.  She hoped that he would grow to like it if given more time with it, but he lost interest quickly, not wanting to play much beyond that first day.

The day we finally decided to make the purchase, I thought a lot about the reason I felt that Isaac hadn't wanted much to do with iPad.  I had seen the hubbub surrounding these rectangular wonders, and Isaac is a kid that likes to avoid hubbub.  He even has trouble standing in line for the slide.  If someone comes up behind him, he moves back to let them go first until he is finally back so far that he isn't close enough to be considered "in line" anymore.  He doesn't like being in the middle of anything like that.  At school and at home, everyone vied for a turn with the iPad and you really had to be assertive to get your hands on it and keep it.  I was hoping if I could stop the clamor, Isaac would want to play.

After going to three stores to find the iPad 2 with just the right amount of memory and staying up late to get it all set up with Isaac's iTunes playlist and "Monkey Preschool Lunchbox" loaded on, Mat went to work and I was left with the task of introducing the iPad to Isaac.  I was nervous he would look at the $700 educational toy and refuse to play with me.  That is almost how it went down, but as I spoke with him about it, inspiration came:  "This is your iPad, Isaac," I told him. "The boys have their DS and Josie has her Leapster and this is yours to play on.  If anyone wants to play, they have to ask you.  Here, see, it has your favorite game on it already and your playlist."

I began punching "buttons" and his favorite song issued from the speakers.  This caught his interest.  He loves music.  As whomever it is who sings Dynamite told us to "throw our hands up in the air" he reached for the iPad, started exploring, and somehow found an episode of Backyardigans that I hadn't realized Mat had put on there.  He was liking this!

The other kids started waking up and coming out to see what was going on.  As they gathered around, I told them that this was Isaac's.  Just as they all had their own hand-held screens, so too did he.  I could see Isaac feeling important instead of nervous as the other kids gathered around him.  I felt so excited to see that instead of shying away, he was feeling confident.  He shared it a little, but mostly he kept a hold of the iPad himself as he slowly learned to use it.  His best teacher was Josie who sat beside him helping him explore all its applications quickly and easily.

Mat came home and I told him excitedly about the day and how much Isaac loved the iPad.  I concluded with the admonition that we mustn't put other people's games on it, so that he would continue to feel like it was his.  (Mat has only struggled slightly with this idea.  The next day he put a basketball game on, but has only been in trouble with Isaac one day for hogging the iPad.)

A great iPad moment occurred soon after we got it.  I took Josie and Isaac to Hobby Lobby, the dreaded store where Mom and Josie look at things and boys get bored and into trouble quickly.  I put Isaac in the cart with his iPad and he played with the "ABC Flashcards" app the whole time.  This was especially awesome because kids with Down syndrome need to see things thousands of times more than other children before they actually learn it.  For example, Isaac has known his letters since he was two.  Truly--he has, although, at that point he used only sign language.  Still, he has known them for years but has yet to get a perfect score when they test him on his alphabet at school.  (I don't know why--he gets different letters wrong every time.)  Now, here I was shopping while he got to work on letters.  On the day this was his favorite app, he probably scrolled through the alphabet ten to fifteen times without feeling like it was work!  This is what I had hoped for, but the repetition was beyond what I actually expected.

Other unexpected things happened when we got home from that trip.  Isaac got out of the van by himself instead of waiting for a hand to hold from me and then turned to close the van door with the push of a button that normally had to be pointed out before he would use it.  I began to hear more "I do it myself" around the house. I saw that with the iPad had given him a taste of independence, and he craved more.

Prior to the iPad, Isaac could not run things on his own.  His MP3 player and the DVD players are too complex.  Many drawers, doors, and latches are too hard to work with his weak little hands.  So this made him feel like a pretty big man, being able to switch from music to games to movies (we are careful to only put short, educational movies on here) without any help.  As he became more independent, it reminded me to look more closely at tasks in his life that he could be successful at on his own and encourage him to do them with as little guidance as possible.

It has helped Isaac with other children too.  Although Isaac is talking a lot now, he can still be difficult to understand and the iPad has given him a new way to socialize.  First, he has something other kids are interested in right off the bat.  Second, it is something they can talk about while engaged in the same activity.  Isaac is much easier to understand if you have a reference point as to what he's saying.

There have been too many times when Isaac would sit back, suck his thumb, and watch life going on around him.  Too many times when he would follow me from room to room and watch me hoping I would stop and put on a movie, no matter how many times I'd tell him to go play with something.  He has learned to play by himself more this past year, but now he has something that can entertain him for longer periods of time when everyone else in the house is busy.  The best part of all is that, at least so far, he hasn't become too attached to it.  He definitely prefers to take it with him if we are going somewhere, but he doesn't play it as constantly as this post makes it sound.  It has helped him to experience life more without becoming his life.  I love it!

Evan's Knife

On July 7th, we went to Estes to celebrate Steve's 63rd birthday.  We had decided to celebrate Evan's and Isaac's birthdays as well.  Our plans for a boat ride on Lake Estes were rained out, so we had a nice "picnic" at home while we watched and listened to the downpour outside.  Candles were blown out and presents were given and received.

Evan got a Swiss Army knife from Ann and Steve which he promptly lost.  It was very lost, as practically everyone in the house had searched for it in every place we could think of and could not find it.  Evan stated that it had been in his pocket inside the box in which it came, but it was no longer there.  He insisted that he had not roamed about the house with it, but had just been playing downstairs near the toy closet.  The normal searching of said closet procured no results, so being a firm believer that when something is lost you should always look by cleaning, I determined to clean the closet out.  Evan and I removed some boxes blocking access to the floor, got a trash bag, and set to work.  I had sat down on the floor and was going through everything to no avail when Ann came down to help.  Evan disappeared after becoming frustrated about being asked to check his pockets for the umpteenth time by someone upstairs.  Ann helped me identify which pieces went where as I organized the toys into different piles and containers.  She had just declared the search as fruitless when she stepped from the closet over a pile of toys and spotted the knife box resting among the rubble.

"Here it is," she called, stooping to pick it up.

I was surprised to see it retrieved from among toys I'd had to touch in order to get them to that pile, but I was relieved it had been found.  Evan came from the downstairs bedroom with awe on his face.  "You're kidding," he said, as Ann handed him the knife.  "I just got done saying a prayer like two seconds ago."

Ann smiled and said something about the Big Guy helping her find it.  I smiled and said, "Gimme five, Ev.  Nice teamwork."  Evan still looked in awe at the knife.

"When something's lost you should always pray and clean," I voiced aloud, and in my heart I said, "Thank you Heavenly Father for giving my son such a sweet experience to remember.  Whenever he is struggling, I hope he can think of this moment of awe and turn to thee with faith that thou art there."