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Mom snapped this picture while Hannah and she waited for Gabriel to return home from school. Hannah enjoyed playing in the leaves (and, of course, sampling at least one leaf in her mouth). Once the schoolbus arrived, Gabriel raced home to join Hannah, the Autumn Princess.
P.S. Can you tell it's our house from the Obama sign ;-)
Hannah and the kids picked me up from work Tuesday night, and we all headed to the pharmacy to pick up a few prescriptions. The plan was 1) prescriptions, 2) dinner at home, 3) some family time, 4) kid bedtime, 5) Mom and Dad downtime, 6) Mom and Dad collapse five minutes later, snoring.
Gabriel and Hannah had other plans.
"Dad!" Gabriel piped in from the seat behind me. "I found a new Lego Mars game on the computer! You have to play it! It's really, really fun."
"Gabriel, we've got some things to do first..."
"But you have to play it; you'll really, really like it!"
Hannah, sitting next to Gabriel in the van, laughed at his excitement. "La, la, la - Da-Da," she proclaimed.
So my kids had my night timecard punched. Given Hannah's request, I sang a few songs on the way to and back from the pharmacy. Hannah exclaimed her excitement at my compliance. Gabriel and I descended into silliness, singing old, gross Dr. Demento radio show songs. Mom initially groaned, then joined in with her own invented lyrics. We laughed our way home.
Gabriel continued to pester about the game the remainder of the night (both kids are singularly focused - no idea where those genes came from). Wanting to keep some vestige of control over my schedule, I demurred until tonight.
So tonight we sat down after dinner to play the Lego game over the internet. Gabriel showed me around the landscape on the PC for about five minutes, asked for my help, I took over, and he disappeared.
Again, no idea where those genes come from.
-- Dad
I woke Saturday to beautifully grey skies, and they remained grey all day. Sunday, for a few brief minutes, it poured rain. Fresh-lit fires and chimney smoke peppered the air.
Finally, summer is in retreat, and fall is nearly here.
I know I'm a bit off. Most people beg for sun here in Oregon, but I'm thrilled to see our warm days bow to clouds and exit beneath the horizon. October and Halloween are around the corner. Janette and I are buying (way too many) fall and Halloween themed books. Gabriel is eating them up; Hannah seems more interested in her mp3 player (though I'm sure I could Halloween-theme that, too).
I'm thinking about taking a day or two of vacation in October just to enjoy the season, the quiet, the cold, the rain. Fresh coffee for me and hot chocolate for the rest, some reading downtime - sounds really good right about now.
-- Dad
Janette is the queen of networking. Plop her down in any setting - doctor's office, park, grocery store - and she is likely to strike up a conversation with a stranger, maybe even trade phone numbers. I am exactly the opposite. Put me on a social networking website like Facebook or LinkedIn, and I'm happy to write up a storm with friends and acquaintances. Face-to-face, though, I'm not naturally social. I work at socializing, but I have nowhere near Janette's mastery of it.
Gabriel and Hannah, apparently, take the lead on this from their mother. Several weeks ago, Gabriel came home from school, announcing that he had made several friends. In fact, he, new to first grade, had written out his name and phone number on pieces of paper and handed them out to his new friends.
As I learned at back-to-school night, this started a bit of a trend. One parent had asked for other families' contact information. Gabriel's teacher explained that she could not give out that information, but that the kids, much to her surprise, were frequently trading contact info already. I chuckled. And Gabriel since has been bringing drawings and scrawled writing from friends home since. They, all girls to date, gift them to him.
Hannah, for her part, is social city. When we are all out, people tend to engage, stare, or avoid (mostly the last, unfortunately). All are greeted with a beaming smile, though, and often a "Hi!" from Hannah. She is the Princess, rolling past her subjects, with a queenly smile and wave. And if someone stops to talk, or - best yet - sing, Hannah claps and requests/requires more - always more.
She, Gabriel, and Janette are our social ambassadors to the world. Should you meet us out and about, come up & say, "Hi."
Hi my name is Janette, and I am about to be 37, and I really, really, really ardently love simulation games.
Let's see: it all started when my step brother showed me Sim Ant. In Sim Ant, you play a colony of ants trying to drive the humans out of the house. Then I moved on to Sim Life where I created a whale butterfly I couldn't keep alive. Then came Theme Park where I got to run an amusement park: a secret dream of my childhood. Next, there was Afterlife where I got to design Heaven and Hell. Then, Roller Coaster Tycoon hit the market. Oh my goodness. I got to design a park and roller coasters. These roller coaster could be designed in three dimensions going underground zigzag through mountains. I played this game exclusively for six years.
I went cold turkey when my son was born for about 3 years. Of course, when I finally got a moment alone a year after Hannah was born and I had help with nursing, I booted up Roller Coaster Tycoon, and it had been waiting like an old friend: a world I could control and modify. I then proceeded to Zoo Tycoon. I had the patience now to deal with the animals and their various demands.
Then it was Sim City, I know I was late to this one. I was gatewayed in by a used cartridge for the Nintendo DS. Civic planning: that is actually a hard one to feel in control of. But it is a great challenge. I try to make everything public transportation oriented, low on pollution, with good hospitals and good funding for schools. It's really hard and I still have not succeeded completely with a positive cash flow.
So when I bought my new computer, I saw a box labelled Spore. It was only ten dollars and it was a module to a game to come. I thought 'What the heck'. It was cute. The actual game has hit the market and, as a surprise, Robert bought it for me. Oh my goodness. I'm so hooked it is not even funny. So the premise is you start out as a single cell organism and work towards mutation and evolution to a become a sentient life form to create societies and I believe colonize other planets.
So my first creature is in the hunting-gathering stage.
--Mom
Ok, we have been using the cloth diapers for several months now. It is great. We have less trash, which is a plus, and we don't have to keep dishing out $12.99 per 22 diapers. The only drama that remains is the laundry.
It takes more then one wash through to get them clean. I ended up doing some research online and commercial services actually wash diapers around 10 times to get them clean. It took some trial and error but I figured it out for our house, but it does take up a great deal of washer time.
(Remember Hannah can't use a great deal of soaps and no chlorine bleach)
Here it goes:
Step 1: Diaper Pail contains a mixture of Borax, white vinegar and water
Step 2: In Washer Rinse in cold water and white vinegar with a second rinse
Step 3: In Washer set washer to hot and use Borax with a second rinse
Step 4: Finally wash the diapers. In washer set washer for Hot and use Free and Clear All and 7th generation non-chlorine bleach. Set a second rinse
Step 5: In washer set for hot and use no soap and a use a second rinse (Idea here to get all soap out)
Step 6: Put in dryer and dry
Step 7: Put in washer and wash with free and clear all and second rinse
Step 8: Put in dryer and dry
Step 9: Fold and put away
If diapers are put away after step 6 if they just get wet from a drop of water they will reek and the smell will stick to everything.
Luckily I have a water efficient washer and the soaps I am using are not hard on the environment.
Oh and between washings, wash out diaper pail with Soft scrub, rinse, hand dry then let air dry.
Gosh! I never knew I would ever have think so much about laundry!
--Mom
I'm married to the greatest man in the world. This last Sunday, I went on vacation. All by myself. It was wonderful. I knew the kids were in great hands with Robert and that we would have nurses those nights so Robert could get some sleep. So I was free to relax and focus on what I wanted to do for a change. I went stayed at one of the Hiltons in downtown Portland off sixth street for two nights. It is in the middle of everything downtown; I could walk to everywhere I wanted to go.
So around four in the afternoon on Sunday, the kids and Robert dropped me off. The staff was wonderful and took my untraditional luggage of a humungous toolbox, giant portfolio, one backpack and one duffel bag in stride. The toolbox was filled with art supplies. The portfolio contained blank paper, in-progress work and finished work for reference. The backpack had the DVD's, Laptop, Nintendo, mps player, novel I'm reading, novel I'm working on and gum. The small duffel had my clothes and toothbrush.
The room was in the corner with two sets of windows looking out at Taylor and Broadway. The furnishings and wallpaper were sumptuous. The bed was a single king decked out in like five pillows. I have rarely stayed in Hotel rooms this nice.
My plan was to work uninterrupted for the two days on finishing a picture book about Hannah. I was going to watch movies and work. I had planned some spa treatments for the afternoon on Monday. I got a good deal done even though I was lured into watching the pay per view movies on the Hotel TV. I enjoyed some great meals and the spa treatments were wonderful. I made it to the Art museum and a little clothes shopping.
I feel rested and relaxed and ready to take up my responsibilities again. And the really nice thing is I feel I didn't break the bank doing it.
--Mom
Tonight was Gabriel's back-to-school night. After a quick dinner, I headed to school and joined the other parents in the gym. We sat in rows of metal folding chairs and listened to muted microphone introductions of this year's team. We clapped at appropriate moments. It'd been a long time since we parents had sat through an assembly in the gym, but we all still knew the drill.
The principal then announced we'd all be on a bell schedule that, if we had multiple children, would usher us from class-to-class for three sessions of teacher introductions. The bell would ring every twenty minutes, and an announcement would come on to help remind us to circulate to our next classroom. We would also have a little bit of transit time inbetween bells to arrive at our destination. And then we were excused for first period.
Talk about flashbacks. Moo. Bah. Bah.
We poured out of assembly and into our first rooms. I stood at a wall, pencil in hand, scrawling Gabriel's name for a one-on-one teacher conference in October.
"So you're Gabriel's dad," someone said behind me.
"Yeaaah," I replied. We traded places, and she signed her daughter up.
"We hear a lot about Gabriel at our house."
Sigh.
It turned out to be mostly good things (although it sounds like our two kids got in trouble playing around on the schoolbus: ammunition I immediately used on returning home to introduce Gabriel to the Parents Know Everything Network).
Around this time, though, the first bell rang, and we all took our miniature, 1st grade plastic chairs and crouched near our kids' desks. Gabriel's teacher walked us through her curriculum (apparently, this will be the year that Gabriel is challenged on writing neatness - my old nemesis). His teacher was thorough, polite, and very structured: a good thing, I think.
The bell rang, ending this first period, just as Gabriel's teacher asked for questions. She grimaced: not the first time she'd been interrupted by the bell, I guess. And we parents, dutifully, circulated to our next assignment where applicable.
Given that we only have one child in elementary school, I could have gone home, but I wanted to take this opportunity to meet special education staff. Hannah will finish preschool this year (she goes to the same preschool as Gabriel did) and head into kindergarten next year. We've had a fantastic experience working with our ESD Coordinator and team, but we basically have to hit the reset button when Hannah moves to kindergarten. New team. New school. New rules. It seemed like a good idea to at least introduce myself.
I walked into the school's office and found the principal. "I'd like to meet your special education team."
"All right."
She walked me back through the school. We passed through the library. We walked past the classrooms. We headed toward a set of side doors that led outside.
Crap, I thought: the bungalows. Sure enough, when the doors parted, I was greeted by a separate-from-the-school-building, self-contained classroom. I walked up the ramp with the principal. She introduced me briefly to one of the two women there and then left.
After taking a deep breath, I introduced myself and the idea that Hannah would require special education services, ideally delivered in the typical classrooms as much as possible. What was their program and approach like?
So we talked. She walked me through the program, emphasizing inclusion in kindergarten, but also pull-outs from typical classrooms more regularly as kids got older, depending on their needs. I emphasized that through the IEP, I'm sure we'd develop a plan appropriate for Hannah. (And did I mention she's already mainstreamed in her local preschool?)
Afterward, I offered our blog address as a way to meet Hannah virtually, and I walked down the bungalow ramp back toward the school. I had planned to walk back through the school, pick up more literature from the local groups staking out the back-to-school night, and head home.
I pulled the main building's door. It wouldn't budge. It was locked.
As I walked two-thirds of the way around the school building and headed back to my car, I wondered at the symbolism of finding the main building locked against my re-entry after my bungalow, special education classroom visit. Hopefully, this was simply a back-to-school gaffe: a simple that-door's-never-open-at-night oversight and not a more metaphorical moment.
Okay, this is a bit of a rant. Usually, I'd toss this under "Commentary" rather than "Fatherhood", but given all the identity politics this election year, "Fatherhood" seems like a better place.
Yes, this is my Sarah Palin message.
I understand Gov Palin wants to advocate for my family should she reach the White House. Given the Republican platform, my main question is what exactly will she be advocating? I'm going to leave abortion and stem cell issues to the side. I think reasonable people can disagree on the ethical underpinnings there, but what about:
I could go on, but I've been obsessing about this in my head for awhile and would just like to exorcise it at this point.
I can very quickly pop over to Barack Obama's website, find the disability topic, and drill down into highly detailed proposals, broad, community based discusssion groups, and policy recommendations. I cannot find the equivalent on McCain's site, and I believe that the Republican platform and performance in recent memory does not mesh well with Gov Palin's offer to be my advocate in the White House.
In the end, unlike McCain's advisory team, I do prefer an election on the issues, not on identity and affiliation. That's great that the McCain/Palin team and I share some experiences; I'll bet the Obama/Biden team and I do, too. Feeling an affinity for a candidate based on shared experience is natural, but remember the last time we as a nation elected a guy we felt an affinity for, a guy we wouldn't mind having a beer with?
-- Dad
Got a case of the tireds. Everyone in the house is on the verge of or already slightly sick. Gabriel is coughing. I'm coughing. Hannah is breaking out. Mom is sneezing. Long way of saying - the blog is a little quiet at the moment, but we'll return once some sleep and rest have been earned. Lots to talk about, new pictures, NFL started (okay, only half of Kintropy parents are happy about that)....
-- Dad
We are a family with sensitive skin. Robert and I must change shampoo brands out regularly or get red ichey bumps in our scalps. I never use dryer sheets or we all break out in itchy red bumps. Well Miss Hannah has taken this sensitivity to a new level.
Hannah breaks out from almost all soaps and most synthetic fabric. But her main source of skin irritation is in latex. This substance is more common then most realise. It is in elastic. Her grandfather makes her slacks. He buys a latex free elastic to make them with. The clothes in the marketplace never let you know if there is elastic hidden anywhere on them. I usually can get away with buying her shirts. As long as it is 100 percent cotton. Well, last week I bought some cute shirts with hidden elastic in them. One had loops where the buttons feed in that were elastic and the sleeves had tapered ends with elastic. I fixed the problems with a pair of scissors and the ragged edges don't look too bad. I'll hem them eventually.
To top it off, we think the fabric on Hannah's wheelchair is causing her to react.
Her grandfather is working on slip covers for it.
If I ever get the time. I think I might want to start a campaign about clothing/fabric labelling. We can't be the only ones reacting to this stuff.
--Mom
As I was driving with the kids to pick up my computer from the Geek Squad (Long Story Don't Ask) I hear this cheerful little voice say "Momma". It was Hannah. I'm still new to her clearer voice. I glance in the review mirror and say.
"What Hannah?"
"Woooooshh Woooshh Wooosh!" She says. It sounds like a cappuccino machine whipping up froth milk.
I giggled. "Ok, Hannah. Woooooshh Woooshh Wooosh!" She has been experienmenting with sounds since the recent operation and this is one of her new favourite. I know it doesn't mean get coffee because that is not her thing. I think I figured it out though, it makes Robert, Gabriel and I laugh. She is trying to get us to laugh and of course we repeat it back which amuses her.
She must of thought the moment needed a release or at least her brother needed a break from the barrage of questions I gave him about his first day of First grade.
--Mom
