Bloody Sunday

As I have watched my preschool class be enthralled with the all of the little caterpillars that are out and about these days, I was reminded of my own kids adventure with the little guys, so I thought that I would share a couple of old posts.

BLOODY SUNDAY:

My kids have been raising a group of wooly caterpillars. They started out with just one, but when we looked up our little critter online, it said that this particular kind (don't ask me the name, I can't remember) likes to socialize. Well, of course we had to run out and search for more. We'd been feeding and caring for them diligently. The kids really liked to take the little guys for walks outside and watch them crawl all over their clothes. During one such incident my son accidentally stepped on the end of one of them. We thought for sure that he was a goner, but nature, as amazing as ever, healed the wound and he proceeded along with life just fine. Just fine, that is, until yesterday, which has come to be known as bloody Sunday in our house.

We got home from doing our grocery shopping for the week, and we were greeted with a truly distressing sight. Bodies were strewn about the living room, the jar lying seemingly empty on it's side, and our cat Miko guiltily stalking out of view as we opened the door. The jar of caterpillars had been left on the coffee table, and the curiousity had just been too much. Miko had reached in and quickly slayed the poor creatures while trying to get a better look. One little guy survived by hiding under a leaf.

Needless to say, my kids were aghast. 

So while trying to watch the beauty of life and transformation into new life, we've instead been witness to the fragility of life and transformation to death. We do still have hope in our one remaining caterpiller. And the kids... well they seem to have recovered, although they still aren't talking to the cat.

Cut to the Chase

Here is the new puppy.  Her name is Gracie, and she is adorable.  We love her, and so does our older dog.

Our cats; however, have a different opinion.

She is sure that her cuteness will win them over.

Dog Days: A short story Part 1

My daughter is crazy about puppies.  I’m sure that this is normal.  Most young people are naturally attracted to young animals.  Yet hers is an obsession that has lasted through the years, much the same way my son obsessed about dinosaurs.  Sam spent at least the first 7 years of life growling and clawing at perfect strangers as well as fond friends.  My daughter can’t seem to get enough stuffed animals, especially of the canine family.  So it is no surprise that from the time that she could speak, she has asked for a puppy of her own.  Normally, this would have been an easy sell.  I, myself am an animal lover, and have always had pets.  The only problem was, that we already owned a Golden Retriever when Emma was born, and one big dog in a small townhouse (special note: the dog came before the move to the small townhouse) seemed quite enough.  It was only with fabulous timing, a little canoodling, and great pleas, that we convinced my husband to allow two kittens into the fold, but another dog would be out of the question. And on this subject, I had to agree.   Little did I know that when we began looking to move into a bigger house, my husband had promised my puppy crazy daughter, that once we moved, we would get a new puppy.  This time it was I who had to put my foot down.  I am sure that at least 70 percent of the dirt that comes into my home, is created by the animals.  I was not about to double the quantity in my new house.  Not to mention the expense added not only by a new house, but another new animal, I wasn’t sure that we could handle it.  No.

We moved in late July, and already the pleas began. No.  Around Christmas time my lovely husband hinted that he was thinking that a puppy would be a wonderful Christmas memory in the making.  No.  I was firm on this.  Maybe next year, but definitely not now.  The cats had just been through a move; we didn’t need a puppy causing them undo stress, not to mention our nine-year old dog didn’t need the aggravation.  No.  I meant business.  This was not going to change anytime soon.  Things were just settling down in the new house.  NO.

While visiting family over holidays we were introduced to one of the most ridiculously adorable dogs I have ever seen.  It was a cross between a teddy bear and a mop with big round eyes and an endearing little smile.  It followed every moving target around in a sort of space alien way, half way between bouncing and floating since you couldn’t see it’s paws through all of the fur.  She allowed anyone to pick her up like a baby and stroke her belly as she sat perfectly still.  She was a doll.  She was a Lhasa apso puppy. 

I mentioned to my husband, that if we were to get a dog like that, I would consider it.  He was having none of it.  He doesn’t consider anything less than a foot tall to be a real dog.  When I said that it would be nice to have a real lap dog, he scoffed.  Well, it didn’t really matter; we didn’t need a dog anyway.  Still, it started me thinking about the kind of dogs that we might consider if we were to add another member to our family.

By January, my eye was unconsciously trained to every dog that paraded on the path behind our house.  Oh that one’s too small, that one’s too big, that one’s too hairy, but still there were many whom I could see sitting by me quietly on the couch.  Of course, picking a breed this time around seemed like a waste of time, because I’d already decided that any new puppy would be from the pound; a puppy who really needed us.  But we had plenty of time to ponder, because this just wasn’t happening anytime soon.

In February, Emma began reading “The Puppy Place” books.  The series follows a family who fosters puppies and helps find them a new home.  It ends each book with a tip for puppy owners.  She fell in love with them so much, that she decided to take some of her left over Christmas money and buy the whole series. 

            “You know, Mom, I would be a great trainer for a puppy.”

    “Great,” I told her, “you can try your training on Bailey.”

I will give her credit.  She did start paying special attention to the dog of who had been a faithful companion for her entire life.  The dog who had had to share toys with her as an infant and who withstood ear pulling and tail pulling and general mauling when she had been a toddler.  But with it also came the long sighs, “I wish I had known Bailey as a puppy.”

Before I knew what was happening, I started to look on the Internet to see what kind of puppies were in need of rescuing.  Again, I was just looking…for FUTURE reference. ….

One should never look at puppies unless they are prepared to buy.  By the beginning of March, I had emailed a couple of rescue agencies about a couple of possibilities that I had seen online.  It seems that gone are the days of a box of puppies on a downtown sidewalk with a sign that reads, “Free to a good home”.  Now they want paperwork, applications, pre-applications, previous pet records, personal references, and a home visit to be sure that you are indeed not only a suitable pet owner, but also a suitable human being.  I felt fairly certain that we could pass the test, and when the agent who was working with a couple of 11 week-old shepherd retriever mixes called, we were ready to set up a meeting.  It seemed we were on route to find the newest member of our family  

Winthrop, Miracle Boy

So I met with the Drama people at Sam's school.  They were very understanding and willing to listen, but I definitely got the feeling that they were there to change my mind.  I will cut to the chase, they did.  

First, they listened, which was nice.  They said that they totally understood and also assured me that Sam did not get the role because of his own lisp.  They really just felt that he shined in this role.  Of course, his size was a factor, which is not a surprise, because he's still small.  None of this is the reason of course that changed my mind.  I didn't really think that his lisp was a deciding factor in giving him the role, but it still wasn't going to help him get over this.  The thing that really swayed me was their willingness to change the part.  Now, Winthrop is a bit of a miracle child.  He starts with his lisp, and after he receives his instrument, the lisp disappears.  The song "Gary Indiana" will be sung without the lisp at all.  With these changes, I figure we can still work on what we need to, and there will still be a great emphasis on Sam's speech throughout.  It may actually help him to feel the difference of the beginning of the show, to the end.  

We talked to Sam about it, and he seems genuinely thrilled to be playing this role.  So there you have it.  We will start on the script, pronto.

Music Mania

My son Sam has been in speech therapy since he was three years old.  His vocabulary and language skills are incredible, but his articulation leaves something to be desired.  Basically, it has always seemed that the poor kids tongue is just too big for his mouth; and in fact, that's not far from the truth.  For a long time, there was not space enough in the back of his throat for his tongue to sit back where it belonged.  Well, years have passed.  Many of his articulation struggles have been taken care of but he is still working on his "r"s and "s"s.  His mouth has also grown and there is more room than before, but muscle memory is a powerful thing and his tongue still thrusts forward causing quite a lisp.

Being a part of this family, acting in shows is a big part of what we do.  Ken and I are often directing, acting in, producing shows, so it is not a big surprise that both kids have been onstage themselves a number of times.  It is also no surprise then, that when Sam's school announced that they would be doing "Music Man" this year, Sam was gung ho to start the audition process.  He did well in his auditions and made a series of call backs.  I was excited for him, and I also told him that this would be a great chance for us to work on some of his speech issues.  It is much easier to work from a script when working on enunciation than it is in real life situations.  Last week he came home and announced that he was going to be playing Winthrop.  For those of you who are not familiar with the Music Man, Winthrop is the little boy who lisps played by a little Ron Howard in the movie.  It is a great role and a large role, but there was an obvious problem, one that I'd hoped that his teachers would foresee.  The lisp is rather a key story point, so there is really no way around it.  Not only would we not be able to work on his speech issues, this may actually work in the wrong direction.  Having had to cast kids in productions myself, I do not love the idea of being one of "those" parents who complains about the part that their child received.  It is my policy that you get what you get and make the best of it.  Yet here I am.

I have emailed his teachers with my concern.  His homeroom teacher has already emailed me and in no uncertain terms agrees that this role would be inappropriate for him and thanked me for sending the email.  She was very disappointed.  We have a meeting set up for later this week and we will see what happens. 

ME! ME! ME!

I have a student this year in my class of four year olds, that is a little different than any other student I have had.  It seems that he has a severe case of only child syndrome, but it may be something more.  He has a sincere need to be the center of attention.  He has gotten much better about not talking  back to the teacher ( he caught on pretty quick that that was not going to fly) but he still can't sit next to any other kid without getting into their face, tugging at them, poking them, biting at them.  He is not trying to hurt the other kids, he just wants the non stop attention.  He is a smart kid.  He likes to participate and he always has the right answers, but he cannot focus on anyone but himself, EVER!  Separating him from the group for periods of time seems to help.  He doesn't like to be ignored, so I am working with that, but as soon as he is allowed to returned and encouraged to make better choices, it starts just where it left off.  

Now to be fair, last week was a good week.  This week; however, has been a nightmare.  And it seems that nothing I do will help.  I talked with his mom today because he had actually pulled another students hair with his TEETH.  Mom is totally aware, and is working on it.  I do not feel like she is a parent who would rather turn a blind eye, but I feel that we are both left scratching our heads as to how to help the situation.

I write this after a long day, and a long week.  I will keep you up on how the situation progresses, but if anyone has experience with this, I would love to hear your thoughts.

Pre- dawn and Pre-election

It's been so long since I've been here that I hardly know what to say.  Since the move, and the start of the school year, it seems that there has been a whirlwind of activity, and I haven't taken the time to write about any of it.  There is also the election which we are keeping a close eye on.  Too close probably.  Every day I watch to see what's happening, who has said what, what the polls are saying.  I've made up my mind, so why should I still be watching?  Mostly because I want to be sure that others are thinking along the same lines, and I won't have to go through the huge disappointment of 4 years ago.  Of course watching won't help with this, but still I can't seem to stop.

I think that this is another reason I have been scared away from the blogosphere for a bit.  My feelings are passionate, but I was worried that if I wrote about any of it, it would come pouring out in a vomit of hate, and that is not worth anyone reading.  I am over the politics of hate and fear.   So much so, that when it is flung at me, I just shake my head rather than my fist.  I don't want to be angry anymore.  The fact is, there are no "others".  We are one, and we are both good and evil, strong and weak.  We make our choices and we will get through.  Of course, by my second cup of coffee, I may feel differently.  But for now, in the quietness of the pre-dawn hours, this is where I stand.  Or should I say sit, under my comfy blanket and laptop, cradling my warm mug.  Have a happy Sunday.