A Rainy Maroon Train Night

The need for an adult night out has been rehashed in our house for a long, long time. With all of the wackiness going on, we needed to have a killer night out.

So, when I unexpectedly won tickets to Maroon 5 and Train through a fluke that only I could get into, it was the perfect chance to send the Shrimp to Mom and Dad’s for the night and we went!

So, let’s discuss the fact that we had great weather forecasted until Monday night. We then heard the dreaded word-RAIN.

Now, normally, rain for a concert wouldn’t be a huge bother. But, we had LAWN SEATS at SPAC, and those have NO cover whatsoever.

Hey-the tickets were free. I wasn’t complaining. Girl Scout training kicked in and we packed ponchos, umbrellas and chairs so we wouldn’t have to sit on the lawn when the rain came down.

So, Doug brought a poncho

and Dawn (who came with us-because her other half wouldn’t join her on the lawn…) brought her umbrella and did her best impression of a turtle!

and we were ready for the rain.
(yes, I had my umbrella, but hey-I’m the one behind the camera.)

Let’s just get this part out of the way-it wouldn’t be an event with me if something insane or “you HAVE to be kidding me” happened.

and it did.

The show started out looking like this:

 

Then, the heavens opened up and we got the downpour of downpours!
It POURED.
But, the irony of the song Maroon 5 was playing was not lost on us.

This was the song:

Now, this was turned into a sing along. Please imagine a full lawn standing in the rain singing the lines about the rain.

Yes. This was not lost on us. We found it quite fitting.

As the rain poured down, Doug, Dawn and I laughed and watched the fastest set change possible over to the Train set. While this was going on, the rain stopped.

I even took the gutsy step of closing my umbrella.

And then Train did this:

(no, that wasn’t last night’s. But you get the idea)

I prayed that this would not tempt the irony fairy and ring another downpour to cap off our adult night out!

Thankfully, it stayed dry till the end of the show!

So, what an amazing night. It was so nice to just go to the lawn at SPAC and see a show. To give you some perspective in how long it has been since we did this, the last time Doug and I did SPAC was in 1999, right before we made the big move west. We sat on the lawn for the HORDE festival with Barenaked Ladies and a bunch of other acts. It was quite the day.

It was so nice to just be adults again.

Thank you to Maroon 5 and Train for putting on a great show and to the awesome radio station that gave us a night out by allowing me to win the tickets!

What’s the deal with this IEP flip out?

So, yes, I’m twitching about this IEP. I wish I didn’t have to. Seriously. BUT, I just want to explain WHY I’m twitching. This hasn’t just been an overnight “Oh, my sweet Lord, here comes an IEP, let’s get all hot and bothered about it,” but has been a cool run up of debacles, missed chances and excruciatingly painful non-access to the core curriculum.

I’m all sorts of disenchanted with this school district and the services it provides special needs kids. What’s the use of being in a “good” district when you can’t get a solid, quality education for your child? It just doesn’t make sense.

Here’s what’s happened…
I’ve spent the entire school year fighting to get information on Isaac. He’s on Adderol, and I really NEED information about how he’s surviving his day, so we know if we need to change dosing times or what have you. After the Vyvanse issue (depressed kid-it wasn’t pretty), we need to be very on alert. It took nearly 2 months to get them to realize that I wasn’t kidding. I needed this information and I was going to get it one way or another. They finally instituted a “notebook” and it was so disgustingly subjective. We’d get a note saying his day was “not well” and no explanation. We couldn’t figure out what the heck was going on. We didn’t know when to speak to him regarding his behavior, or reward him for good behavior.

We would also constantly get notes from his PT about how awful he was for her. Umm..we warned them. We also told them how to get him to be compliant for PT, and the PT poo-poo’d us. Well, fine. Then don’t complain.

Then, came the entire crowning glory of everything. We were asked to let them run the consequences of poor behavior at school and not even give him any consequences at home.

WHAT? You’re kidding me right?

Nope. They weren’t kidding. They wanted us to lay off.

Wanna hear what ticks me off about all of this? If we really had laid off, they would have been the first ones complaining regarding the lack of follow through at home. They would have lamented the fact that there was no home support.

Then, when I registered Isaac for hockey, I emailed the PT to see if he needed to wear AFOs with skates. I got back a huge diatribe about how bad an idea this was-to put him in hockey and how awful it would be for him, because he wouldn’t be able to negotiate with a stick and puck. She only relented after I sent back a quite curt, pointed email with the fact that this was a LEARN TO SKATE FOR HOCKEY program and that it was developmentally appropriate, and please answer the question-AFOs or not?

I had meetings and meetings and emails and phone calls, and all of that. I thought things were ok for a bit. Isaac was having good days, things were going well, people were doing their jobs. I could finally relax and know he was getting the best stuff he could get.

Then, in January, the final straw hit.

I had been noticing that the aide was doing tons of writing for him. Writing in his sight word books, his stories, ect. I was a bit concerned, but wasn’t really too sure. I figured I’d give it a bit and then maybe ask a polite question, as I had questioned the goals for OT from the start.

Then, a worksheet came home with a date on it of mid January. It was work that Isaac had been doing competently (if not excellently) in Pre-K over at his old school with his old OT, Pam in JULY.

This is when I fully and totally hit the roof. I fired off a polite, but pointed email to the OT and a less polite and no less pointed email to the consultant teacher and waited for responses. The OT was canned, and evasive. It was the largest cop out email I’ve read in a long time. She even CC’d the consultant teacher on her response. I also got a mail back from the consultant teacher explaining some things, angering me even further with their lack of pushing Isaac to give him full access to the core curriculum (which is required by federal law)

A list of suggestions from the OT followed the next day for things we can do at home to increase fine motor skills. This was a complete and total insult, as we do all of the things on the list. This is not what we asked for as follow through for home. We asked for actual work, letters, numbers, ect. We got a list.

Yeah. Nice.

Knowing that Isaac was no closer to writing (short of an I and a circle and some intersecting lines), I demanded a plan be put in place for him to write more, do more and possibly make a plan for at least the beginning of first grade for written responses. I made it clear that he could NOT have someone scribe for him at all times and it was unacceptable anyway. I suggested a keyboard or something (I can teach him how to type-he knows all of his letters…as evidenced by the fact that it was a goal for him and he achieved it by, oh, OCTOBER…told them…) that would allow him to do his own responding. I also made it clear that the lack of writing and pencil control at this point in the year was quite unacceptable, and we can’t follow through at home if nothing is being done at school.

The consultant teacher said she’d work on that with the OT, and everyone else. Ok. I’ll let that ride for now. She’s usually pretty good at this stuff.

Then, at the latest PTA meeting, I asked the principal when I could place requests in for next year. I’m concerned about peer grouping, ect. Plus, there’s one teacher I want him to avoid, because I KNOW the two of them won’t get along and it will be MISERABLE. I can’t do miserable.

When I asked her about when requests have to be in, she snapped at me “Isaac will be in the coteaching classroom because he has an IEP!”

umm…so, since when does that matter? They use a consultant/push in model. Does it really matter what room he’s in?

And the PE teacher can’t seem to do without his aide (who he only has half time) because she won’t redirect him to the activity by herself, which his hockey coaches can do just fine with 3x the number of kids!

Honestly, I think the only thing they have right is the fact that I’m not going to tolerate any lowball goals like I did last time. They won’t even try it…

Now do I have permission to be twitchy and flip out over this impending meeting?

Sorry, I don’t take Avon catalogs from strangers

Doug, Isaac and I were at a local grocery store today after lunch. We decided to return some bottles and get some hot dog buns. As we’re walking toward the store through the parking lot, a dark minivan slows down and asks a woman with her daughter in her arms (obviously asleep) a question and then waits for me to walk by.

I have Isaac in one hand, a bag of bottles in the  other.

The minivan is still sitting there. As I pass it by, a woman in the front seat says:

“Would you like an Avon catalog?”

What?

Really?

I politely declined the offer, and walked stunned into the store.

Weird.

Overheard at the faculty meeting

Said by our Seminarian (or our PIT-Priest in Training) while we were talking about Holy Week…

“You know when you get hit with the holy water during holy week, there are some people that dodge the “sprinkling?” Well, I’ve got the solution for that. I’m going to get a SUPER SOAKER and drench EVERYONE with the holy water!  Remember your baptismal vows! Remember your baptismal vows!” (and add in sound effects of the super soaker for emphasis.)

What ever happened to camp for the sake of having fun?

For years, I did the whole summer camp thing. As a kid, summer camp was a time to chill out, make some new friends and really get away from the brain-drain that is acadamia. As an adult, working camp was a change of pace for me and again, getting away from rigors of brain drain. Plus, I got a decent tan sitting by the pool as a lifeguard. Can’t go wrong there!

 

So, this year, I think for the weeks that Isaac is off from his morning program summer session, we’re going to give him that break. He’s entering kindergarten, so a lot of places will take him at this age. Really, we’ve only got 2 weeks to account for this summer. And yes, I could so take those off, but for cripe’s sake, Isaac does tend to go batty, and does tend to need SOMETHING.

 

So, I started scouting out programs, because around here, if you don’t scout them out now, there’s most likely not going to be any room in them by the time you get around to May. So, as I’m going through the flyers and things and have noticed something that slightly alarms me-

 

Camps are now trying to compete with each other programming wise-who can have the biggest adventures, who can have the most dare-devil, high adrenaline experiences.
Really? What ever happened to having fun? Whatever happened to general camp programming? Why is it now all about the adrenaline kick? Even for FIRST graders, there is a general atmosphere of “adrenaline rush.”

 

Whatever happened to summer camp to turn off your brain and do things that are fun? Yes, there needs to be an element of trying new things-but for cripe’s sake-whatever happened to the good ol camp overnight to try your hand at cooking over an open fire? Why does it always have to be the high ropes course?

 

I don’t know. I just don’t know. I really want to know where having fun for the sake of having fun went.

Freakin woodwork. Seriously.

Since I moved back to this fishbowl area, people that I thought had fallen off the face of the planet are back. I swear. Some of them that I’ve taught swimming to their kids…well, those conversations lead to embarrassing moments, like “Oh, I didn’t recognize you in real clothes..” yeah. that.

 

So, it should have been no shock to me that when I went into the Wal Mart that we usually don’t go to (I was looking to take Isaac for a ride, because he was tired, and he didn’t want to admit it.  He fell asleep in the car, and stayed that way for a good 30 minutes.), I ran into someone I hadn’t seen in oh, 12-ish years. I hadn’t seen her since sophomore year in undergrad. She was ahead of me, and we were in the same sign language class together. 

 

Well, to make a long story short, there was an incident on advisement day, the same day that the teacher expo is held. There was all sorts of stuff that went down with her, in a specific professor’s office, and, me, being me, ended up talking her out of the bathroom. Security came, police came…and I had truly forgotten that day until she asked me if I remembred what happened. Seems she’s in therapy over it after all of these years. 

She asked me to call her, and help  her work through this, because I’m the only one that was there that day…and I can coroborate what happened. 

 

Here’s the problem. 

My memory of the incident involves her carrying a knife and changing her shoes before she went into this professor’s office. I remember broken nails, I remember me telling her NOT to take the knife, and not to go up there. I remember security telling me not to go  in there, because she was dangerous, and I told them that she was a friend of mine and I wouldn’t get hurt…plus, I had her laptop. 

 

My memory doesn’t exactly match hers. Truly doesn’t match. Some things match, but others, not so much. Plus, I wasn’t in that office with her. I don’t know what happened in there. 

 

I’m at a complete loss as to what to do. Do I get involved…frankly, I’d rather not. I don’t scare easy, but this day was scary enough for me that I blocked it out of my mind. I can tell you now that it’s been dredged up what was where and the conversations I had with her that day. 

 

She said to me that God puts people in your path for a reason, and there are no chance meetings, accidents or what have you. I just don’t know. I just know that the freakin woodwork that people are coming out of since I moved back here is getting more and more strange for me. I can’t go anywhere here and be anonymous. It was nice on the west coast when people said to me “Did you go to Poly?” and I was able to say “Nope. Went to school on the east coast!”  Now, not so much. 

 

blah.

Good words, cookies and who gets to take the Monkey to the movies

As he gets closer to kindergarten, Isaac  gets more and more hilarious. He’s rapidly becoming his own little person, not that he wasn’t before, but with the language delay, it was hard to tell what he was thinking, feeling or otherwise experiencing. 

 So, it should come as no shock that we’re dealing now with the barrage of verbal spewage. But, it never ceases to shock me that we ARE dealing with this, as we waited so long for words.

The other day, I picked Isaac up from aftercare, and I had a bunch of Girl Scout Cookies in the back seat of my car waiting to be delivered to my mom.  I asked him if it was ok if we shot over to Nana’s to deliver the cookies, and of course, he said yes. Then, he popped out with this:

 

“I’m going to use my good words with Nana!”

Of course, I had to ask.

“What exactly are your good words?”

“Please and thank you.”

“And what are you going to use them for at Nana’s?”

“A cookie.”

Yeah, the kid figures that if he says please and thank you, my Mom will give him a cookie.

 

Yeah, he’s right. But she’ll die laughing first.

 

So, later in the day, on the way home, he was looking through the coupons. There, he saw an ad for Aliens vs Monsters, and I explained to him that it was a movie, and that we’d probably go and see it.

He officially kicked me out of the movies at that point.He told me Nana would take him.

 

So much for me.

 

Mom is elated. She thinks that it means that she gets to go see the new Pixar movie, Up.

 

I don’t think so. She got Wall E. I get Up. So there. Take that, Mom.

See? Even the neighbors know how bad this is!

This evening, I was out playing with Isaac, and our neighbor was out doing her gardening. She saw me come back from Home Depot with the paint paraphanalia…and she got nosey…as any good neighbor would!

The conversation went like this:

Neighbor: “So, whatcha paintin’?”

me: “That front room. I’m converting it into my study/craft area. The color is completely horrid.”

Neighbor: “Oh, you mean the one that’s that pukey brown color? You know, they’re art teachers. For art teachers, they certainly had some weird taste…”

 

See? Even my neighbor knows that the front room needs updating…I promise, I’ll post before, during and after pictures…as the renovation starts TOMORROW!!!

Intolerable Paint Colors

So, since nursing school starts in September, and my craft stash is seriously out of control…I’ve implored Doug to confine his crap  junk stuff to one area, and get it out of our shit pit spare room. This means a cleanout of the huge kind, which is rounding the homestretch right now.

With this comes the reality of what atrocious color this room is. When we moved in, we had some priorities…and Isaac’s room, having been a nasty shade of pink, was first on the list of PAINT ME NOW!!! As y’all can see from Wordless Wed., the room is now a pretty shade of blue, and what you can’t see is the white chair rail that I left alone.

The pit spare room is this atrocious shade of brown. Think Starbucks latte brown. Think curtain just a tad darker. Yeah. Ick.

I like my coffee, but not on my walls.

The more I’m in the room cleaning, the less I can tolerate the walls in here. Big time.

So, the other day, I took a break from cleaning and headed off to Home Depot to check out paint colors…and whoah. What an experience that was. I didn’t realize how many colors of paint there were…and even subtle shade variations.

So, attempting to avoid another blue room (the bedroom, comptuter loft and Isaac’s room are all shades of blue. The bedroom and loft were blue when we moved in..and we left it because we liked it..and again, the pink had to go first.), I decided on a shade of green with a “baby Roo” tan for the trim on the window and the closet door.

Now, there were 90 trillion greens. They ranged from holy garbage, that’s green! To is that green? Really? That’s green?

So, I went witha  shade called Cactus green. It’s not a “turn off your walls” green, but it’s a soft, kind of medium green. It will go nicely with the pinky-tan of the baby roo.

So, in a few weeks, the painting will begin…and the latte brown will GO.

Where do they find them, and why do they keep sending them to me?

That was the line on some show from when I was a kid. I can’t remember what it was, but it so sums up my day.

So, this morning, after dropping Isaac off at school, I mosied my tucchas over to the Christmas Tree Shop for two items. These items would be:

1. The Peanut Butter & Co. Cookbook (mmm. yummy…and an allergist’s nightmare to boot!)
2. A jar of said PB & C0. “The Bee’s Knees” peanut butter.

So, anyone who knows the Christmas Tree Shop knows that this place is seriously hit or miss. You may spend a good 20-30 minutes just ascertaining if they have what you want.

So, I go a-digging. I dig through the one rack of books…no cookbook. Dig through 2nd rack of books….no cookbook…but there was a Cookie cookbook!! No, not what I came for. So, as I’m going through the 3rd rack of books, there it is. The holy grail of cookbooks….and THE LAST COPY!!!!

I grab said copy and go over toward the peanut butter. While I’m looking for the specific kind of peanut butter, an older lady spies me and my cookbook. She notices me thumbing through it and peeking at other peanut butter cookbooks.  Well, she spies the price on the cookbook (2.99!!) and asks me if I’ve seen any other copies. I tell her that I haven’t…and thus begins the bizzare experience of the day.

Hold on to your hats, because here we go…

So, the old lady asks me if she can have my cookbook. She gives me this entire song and dnace about needing a wedding shower gift for someone, and not wanting to do the same-ol-same-ol. I politely tell her that this was the item I specifically came in for, and planned to make items from it this evening, so unfortunately, I could not part with the book. She then turned on the old lady puppy eyes, and repeated her request, to which I declined yet again. I pointed her in the directon of the other cookbooks, which there was a 2 set of cookbooks-1 all peanut butter, 1 all jelly, in the same box…for 4.99. I figured that would be a good substitute for her non-traditional shower gift. She didn’t like my idea. She sulked away.

I found my peanut butter and took both to the checkout before I could be accosted by any other weird old ladies.

I swear. I have a sign on my head that says “Freak Magnet.”

My cousin DiAnna swears she has one too…but I don’t think hers is as large as mine…