Teeny Tiny Kids

I happened on pictures from our last couple of years in Gabon today, and I couldn't resist putting these up.  This first one was in the hotel pool close to the apartment we lived in the year before moving to Nice. 

There are lots of pictures of the Anna playing at the beach. She loved the sand and the water. That look of concentration and the cheeks is the same in the next one...

The chubby little arms, the curls, the cheeks...sigh. I like seeing my kids grow up, but still...

 This is on our balcony right before digging into Anna's chocolate birthday cake. I pretty sure this is a, "Mom, do we have to take a picture?" picture. I have none with Anna giving me that look, probably because we got the digital camera right before traveling to Colombia for her adoption. So, she was very used to me taking pictures ALL the time (those curls, I couldn't resist).

This is my favorite Anna picture from this time period. We were in the middle of Gabon at Bongolo Hospital, which is a story to tell another time. She's soooooooooo winsome, and I love the very big curls.

I think this is the first picture of Justin taking a picture of himself. The beginning of a long Harris kid tradition.

I'll end with this one taken in Nice, a year before our move here. We visited the summer before to have a look around, and we decided we liked it.

I'm going to have my first (and perhaps last) blog contest this week. It will involve a book, a question, and a number. Stay tuned...

Family Fun Night

Ok, so I just posted something today, but I think some parts of our lives are funny, and I need to share.

Scott was to be away tonight at a GBU retreat, but the departure has been delayed till tomorrow morning. So, once Justin is back from basketball, around eight p.m., we will all be together on a non-school night. This is a rare thing this year.

So, for our big night of fun, which doesn't start till eight (when Justin and Scott return from basketball) and will end by ten (because we need to keep Anna reasonably on track with sleep schedule), we are having pizza, making popcorn, and then...drumroll...watching an episode of Little House on the Prairie. It's the last episode of season two.  I bought the first two seasons two years ago at Wal-mart, and we've watched them a little at a time. Anna and Justin both like them. Fortunately, Justin is unaware that Little House on the Prairie is not cool.

There are two episodes on the dvd. I am currently playing the next-to-the-last episode on the television with the sound off, not because I feel the need to see it again, but because our dvd remote is broken. There is a fast forward button on the dvd player, but the dvd will not allow it. So I need to make sure that I'm not distracted and pause at the right moment or our exciting evening activity will need to be changed.

Hiccup

We love Cressida Cowell's How to Train Your Dragon series. We were introduced to it years ago one summer when we were preparing to drive from Texas to Indiana. Some friends loaned us the audio book, and we've been hooked ever since.

The books are written through the eyes of Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III, who is not living up to the Viking image, in spite of being the son of the chief, Stoik the Vast.  The illustrations are silly, and the humor is definitely on the boy side--as in lots of belching and snot. We've read all the books together. And Justin reads and re-reads them.

Hiccup and his dragon, Toothless

We were excited when we heard about the movie in the making, but Justin was absolutely furious when he saw the preview. It was clear that they had drastically changed the plot. In Justin's book to movie experience, movies have stayed close to the plot (think Lord of the Rings), and we have lively discussions about when the movies are different and why those choices were made and whether we agree with those choices. So, this was his first book to movie experience where the movie was a different thing entirely.  He eventually made peace with the film, but it took him a while. He was seriously angry. We do love the movie. Even Justin.

Book nine, How to Steal a Dragon's Sword, has just come out on this side of the Atlantic, so it'll be wrapped up under the tree for Justin.

Taking a break

I've always been slightly ambivalent about vacations.

Growing up, my family went to visit family. I have good memories of hanging out at Grandma and Grandpa's house, playing with cousins, building card houses, and playing lots and lots of board games. Later memories are at the lake with the mingled smell of sun screen and camp fire at the end of long, lazy days.

During my first year of teaching in Houston, Texas, I lived with two close friends. Since we were teachers and had our breaks at the same time, Jenni suggested going to San Antonio for a few days as a vacation. It was a novel idea for me. I didn't know anyone in San Antonio. We stayed in a classic, old hotel with small rooms and did what you do when visiting lovely San Antonio for the first time--the Alamo and the River Walk. Though I don't have memories of it, we likely ate really good restaurant food.

Many of our family vacations over the last few years have been visiting family/friends kinds of vacations, which I think is still my favorite kind. This is what we did last week.

My very good friend and her daughter (Anna's best friend since she was  four) just moved to Paris this August. Initially,  I figured that Anna and I would head up during this fall break and spend some time with them. It turned into all four of us, and we stayed with another good friend.

On some days, we split up, Scott and Justin going the way of air and space museums and the like while we did other things, like letting the girls roll on the grass by the Eiffel Tower. On others, like the days when we went to Euro Disney for free (woo hoo), we stayed in contact with our cell phones and touched base or traded parents when necessary (like when Justin was ready to try roller coastering-- I am the roller coaster parent).

Our time in Paris was very kid-centered. If I were to go to Paris on my own, I would include a lot more café time, a trip to the Orsay Museum, and probably more time just sitting and chatting. As we did it, it was physically tiring, and filled with lots of activity.

But even though it wasn't necessarily what I would choose to do on my own, I have returned feeling refreshed and more ready to tackle what comes my way in the next few months.

I think I've undergone a shift in the way I view vacations, whatever form they take. I have seen the idea of vacationing as a modern extravagance, which is probably true in some ways.

But, people throughout history and cultures have had their festivals and times where normal life stops for a few days or weeks. I think of the Israelites going up to Jerusalem for yearly festivals, where they walked, talked, sang, and camped out on the way and back. It wasn't only a spiritual time to focus together, but a real break from the routines and pressures of their everyday lives of cooking, fishing, selling, etc.

I also think having vacation time when it is not ridiculously hot is very, very nice.

Modifications

When I first began to research sensory processing disorder in June, I was scanning for practical tips. Things to help with sleep, food issues, schoolwork, travel...It was a relief to know that help was available, that progress could me made, and that medication would not play a role in treatment. However, as the books I ordered arrived, I found myself still scanning, searching for clear, step by step advice.

Although I'm a fairly empathetic parent, there have been times over the years when I have looked around and seen ninety-nine other kids able to do ____________ (fill in the blank--go to sleep at night, eat what is put in front of them, write legibly, sit still in church...) and gotten frustrated because I figured that either Anna just wasn't trying hard enough or that we were doing something wrong.

So, as I read, I was looking both for understanding of why she couldn't do all these things, and how to (as quickly as possible) get her to be like those ninety-nine other children.

The book Raising a Sensory Smart Child threw me for a loop right away. There was a section listing potential problem situations and giving suggestions for dealing with them. I flipped to it right away, again looking for something like "How to help your child with sensory processing disorder go to sleep in three steps." Or "Do this and your child will be able to stand in long lines at airports." What I found was very different. There were good suggestions, often long lists of possible suggestions; but it was also clear that this was not simply about helping the child to adapt, but modifying situations to adapt to the child. And sometimes even completely avoiding situations for a while that a child may not be able to handle.

Then, in September, I had a phone conference with our occupational therapist to get information to pass on to Anna's teachers. I was to tell them that, for now, Anna should write as little as possible. This completely threw me.  I had been thinking that we would ask teachers to tweak certain things, and then work to get Anna to catch up and be capable of being like the other kids in her class as quickly as possible.

So, I think I finally get it, at least ninety-nine percent of the time. Instead of completely freaking out when Anna lost it standing in line at the airport Monday, I was able to understand why she was freaking out. Instead of thinking, "Why is my kid being bratty when all the other kids are fine", I was in problem solving mode, "Why is this situation causing Anna to fall apart?" There wasn't much I could do, but I didn't fall apart.

Since I can't modify standing in lines at airports, I'm wondering if having some kind of ball or toy that she can squeeze on trips would help. And the line was not pleasant for anyone, it wasn't even worthy of being called a line, more like a mass of people all pushing ahead. I guess if we are paying EasyJet prices, real lines aren't included.

We have had stunning days here in Paris and look forward to a couple more days with dear friends before heading back to Nice.

Chapter Books

After trying to consistently read chapter books to Anna over the years, it has finally 'taken', and I have her hooked on them. I love reading picture books as well, but there are so many good chapter books out there (and in here--as in, in our apartment) that I want to share with her.

We started with the BFG in  September. She loved it. The giant is charming, and his words are great fun to read aloud.

Since we have a set of Roal Dhal books, we moved on to the next one, Fantastic Mr. Fox. Anna had seen the movie, so often knew what was going to happen next. It's not as charming as the BFG, but we liked it.

Then we read George's Marvelous Medicine. Justin had read it, but I'm not sure if I have before. Dahl books are like fairy tales in that there are good and evil characters. Good triumphs in the end, and there isn't much redemption for evil characters, whether they be giants, farmers, or naughty children (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory--which we have read together as a family). Our problem with George's Marvelous Medicine is that the evil character is George's grandma, which makes it hard to be really happy at the end when she gets her due. I was hoping for some kind of redemption.

Now we're at the beginning of Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, which at this point is pretty bizarre. It takes place where Charlie and the Chocolate Factory leaves off. 

Anna had wanted to read the BFG again, but I think she could try reading it on her own. I'm happy to read picture books over and over (except Amelia Bedelia books--which drive me up the wall), but I don't see re-reading a chapter book until a year has gone by. If the Great Glass Elevator disappoints, we may move on to another author for now. 

Justin and I are reading The Ear, the Eye, and the Arm. It takes place in Zimbabwe a couple hundred years from now and has an interesting mix of futuristic and African world view elements. I like the title characters, and the worldview elements will be worth discussing.

The kids have a week and a half of fall break now, which is great timing. It's been a good start all around for the school year, but it's been intense. We will be visiting dear friends and taking lots of pictures next week in Paris. 

Books

We have lots and lots of books.

 Today I am giving a tour of the Harris family library...

There are four IKEA shelves in our hallway with books stacked in a way that is probably not good for the bindings. But this is the only way they all fit, and it reduces the dust. I have them more or less in Dewey decimal order, which needs to be redone occasionally since I'm better at putting them in order than keeping them in order.

Most of the hallway books are Scott's and mine, but there are a few shelves with picture books. 

At the end of the hallway, there's just enough room for a small hodgepodge of shelves and boxes that hold more children's books, with some random Bible reference material on the top. The shelves underneath these two wooden boxes hold mostly kids' non-fiction. 

This is probably not safe, but it has held for several years now, and since we don't have climbing toddlers in the house, I think we're ok.

Anna has a couple shelves of books in her room where the picture book overflow gets tucked away.

And Justin has a cupboard crammed with chapter books. His are in an enclosed cupboard because of his dust allergies. The cupboard is deep enough to have two rows of books on most of the shelves.

These small shelves in our room hold my favorite fiction, biography, autobiography, and creative non-fiction. 

I won't take a picture of the stack of books and papers on my bedside table or the French kids' magazines that get stuffed back on the shelves willy nilly, or the random literature that ends up in the bathroom, but they are here too and never ever stay organized for more than a week.   

You may have noticed that there's not much in French on the shelves. I aspire to read more in French, and I have a library card, but I have a serious problem with getting books back on time, and French books feel slightly unfriendly to me. The pages are stiff. And I don't like the library, probably because I usually feel guilty there because of all the late fees that I have to pay.

I'm going to devote my end of the week post for the next couple months to books--what I'm reading, what we're reading with the kids, some of our favorite books, and maybe some favorite authors.

My Walk

I thought I'd post pictures of the daily trek to school. Scott goes with her in the morning, and I do afternoon pick-up. It's about a twenty minute walk.

I pass our bus stop, local grocery store, and our pharmacy. Sometimes I wonder if the pharmacists keep mental track of our medical needs. Like, do they look at me when I come in and think, "Boy she sure has bought a lot of lice shampoo over the years." Hopefully not.

 Next to the pharmacy is the real estate agency that we used to buy our apartment almost five years ago.

A few years ago, Justin always brought a foam ball to play soccer at recess. I think this was partly politics; if it was his ball, he could always play. When it would get kicked up onto a roof, he would beg for three euros, and go down to this gas station to replace it.

For our first year and a half in Nice, we lived in the apartment above this restaurant. The bathroom was really nice and big.

 This is a side street on the way. The onion domes are the top of the very lovely Russian orthodox church.

 I go under the train tracks leading to the central train station. It doesn't smell great.

 And out again into the light...

 past a store with a small dog in the window. He wouldn't look my way.

 There are several cafés and restaurants with tables and chairs outside...

and stores with produce on the sidewalk.

The way back is different. Anna is chattering about her day, waving at me to catch up so we can cross the street on a green light, visiting animals and friends on the way, and occasionally getting ice cream. I will post about all this another day.

But the pictures here show my walk down to school. A friend posted recently on her blog about a walk that she has found where she can reflect and pray  When most people think of walks for reflection and prayer time, I suppose we think of lovely, lonely places far away from people and pollution and clamor.
I like these too, and there are these places, even in Nice. There are olive groves, historic neighborhoods, rose gardens, and hills.

But the reality of my life now is that my walk is this busy European city street. It's a walk that is part of the pattern of my life. I don't have to plan it into my schedule or go out of my way to make time for it. It is my schedule.

Farm Pictures

Anna and I went to a birthday party way out of town Saturday. It was a gorgeous day, and I took lots of pictures. The kids happily fed, brushed, and held animals all afternoon.

 They started by feeding the goats. There were cute little signs like this everywhere.

 We were at the donkey/cow enclosure for a long time. One of the girls dropped her ring while feeding a donkey, so the kids kept looking for something shiny in the hay long after the ring had likely settled into a farm animal's stomach.

 Here's the rabbit hutch and the chicken/duck/geese coop. There were guinea pigs in with the rabbits, and the kids spent lots and lots of time in here--maybe forty-five minutes.

 Anna with one guinea pig.

 Anna with two guinea pigs.

 Feeding the geese and ducks.

 No translation needed.

Justin's basketball match on Saturday--final score eighty something to twenty something. Justin's team had the twenty something score. The other team had twelve kids, one of whom was, according to Justin, a two meter giant. This could be a slight exaggeration since two meters is six foot six. Justin's team had six kids. And no giants. 

Journée de la Gentillesse

Anna's school sent out the schedule for special events and vacations yesterday, and I saw that today is "La Journée de la Gentillesse" (day of kindness). I asked Anna about it, and she said she was just going to keep her mouth shut all day. Fair enough. If you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all works and would probably help the dinnertime sibling squabbling here...

Scott and I go in to meet with the director of the school this afternoon to make sure she is up to date and get some things sorted. Things like asking if Anna can park her bike at school. And seeing if changes can be made in Anna's lunches.

Tomorrow, Scott has an informational meeting about the Mark drama (Marc L'Expérience). Our new team member will go along to cheer Justin's basketball team, and Anna and I go to a birthday party at a farm.

Farm pictures and basketball report next time!

Tuesdays

Every week we will be taking Anna for an occupational therapy session from 4:30 to 5:30pm on Tuesdays.

Here's how it went yesterday.

Preparations: Sunday morning I realized that the car we usually borrow from friends at church wouldn't be available this Tuesday. Anna was still recovering from a bad cold, so she and I were not at church.   I called Scott after the end of the service to ask him to talk to the other friends who had offered their car for these appointments. He talked to them and made arrangements to pick up their car Tuesday afternoon.

Monday night, Scott put ice packs in the freezer in preparation for cold drinks in the car for the trip.

Tuesday morning, I wrote a note telling Anna's teacher that we would pick her up at 3:20. We had our first appointment two weeks ago, then the occupational therapist (OT) was in Paris last week. So, none of us is used to the schedule yet.

I forgot to get the note into Anna's backpack and had to call Scott since he took Anna to school Tuesday morning (they rode scooters) to ask him to tell the teacher. She said no problem.

Tuesday afternoon, we got out the cooler and bought store brand Orangina and store brand Pringles to help Anna get through the hour long car ride. Her last appointment didn't go well, and in addition to communicating some suggestions to the OT, we tried to think of ways to make the trip more pleasant. We packed up a bag with magazines, a notebook to draw in, and Justin's DS (cannot locate hers).

I put this drawing in to represent Anna's drink in the car. I like her choice of color for the drink and how small and cute the lemon is and how the ice cubes are all lined up.

We walked over to the church to get the car and found that the garage was blocked by another car. There is a mechanic next door who sometimes parks cars in front of our door, so Scott popped in to ask them to move the car while we pulled out. Unfortunately, it wasn't their car.

Fortunately, the driver of the car blocking us had not locked the door of his/her car, so Scott got in, put it in neutral, and with the help of two men at church, we pushed it out of the way. The guys put it back after we got out. Craziness. We drove over towards the school.

Here's a corner view of the church. The garage is way over to the right.

Here's a close-up of the door of the garage with the do not park in front sign clearly marked.

While Scott was stopped at a red light up the street, I ran in to the school to pick up Anna, still mostly on schedule. We wanted to get to the appointment early to allow Anna a little time to recover from the car trip. Unfortunately, Anna wasn't waiting in the office. Someone eventually went up to get her.

While I was waiting, the physical education teacher and the director of the school were talking in the hallway. The p.e. teacher told me about an incident with Anna involving her unwillingness to play American football (which I think is clever on her part; she tried to change places in line so she could play defense instead of offense). If she does it again, she'll miss five minutes of recess. I probably need to have the OT talk with him. The director confirmed a meeting that we have with her Friday afternoon. Finally, Anna came down. She had been painting a pebble after studying prehistoric cave art and had to clean up. Her pebble fell down and broke when she was cleaning up.

We had a few mishaps getting into the car--spilled drink, accidental wack in the head, store-brand Pringles not meeting expecations, and I think someone yelling at us for not moving the car off fast enough (Scott had circled the block several times while waiting; there is no place to park in front). But in the end, we drove off with relatively little drama given what we had all experienced up to this point.

The trip took exactly one hour. There are a few stops for tolls, but otherwise no stops once we are out of Nice. We rang the bell at the office at  4:30, which felt like a small miracle.

This represent all the dangers and barriers on the way to the OT appointment yesterday.

And there was no answer. This was the first time we had traveled without the phone number of the OT with us, so Scott went over to the pharmacy to get the number from a phone book.

While Anna and I waited outside, the OT drove up. She had been meeting with teachers at a nearby school and had gotten stuck in traffic.

The appointment itself went very well. Anna started by showing off her violin and what she learned during her group violin class at school earlier in the day. She was super cooperative; the activities were game-like, so she persisted even when fatigued. 

We discussed the weighted blanket. The jury's still out on how much it's helping, so we will pursue melatonin. It's difficult to get it here, but it works for lots of kids with sensory processing disorder. 

I had to rotate this photo as I took it upside down, then noticed the hearts.

Anna read and then fell asleep in the car on the way home. Scott dropped us off at seven, filled the car with gas, picked up Justin from basketball, and dropped the car off at church.

We are on a waiting list for an OT in a town closer to us; she said maybe in six months. Depending on where her office is located, we could take the bus or train. There is no one doing treatment for sensory processing disorder in Nice, so our Tuesdays will look like this (hopefully minus a few mishaps) for a while.

I think it feels especially crazy because we have lived without a car and have made an effort to keep kids' activities close by--as in walking distance--until now. This drive feels like we're going to the end of the world.

Justin's first basketball game

Justin's team played their first game of the season Saturday. Scott went with the camera as I took the bus to the airport to pick up our new team member. Throughout the game, I received text updates of the score.

At 2:25 pm. "Losing 19 to 8."

 At 2:43 pm, "37 to 18."

At 3:13 it was 47 to 27.

 

Final score at 3:38--68 to 36.

Scott said the coach was upbeat, and that the team played a good game. The other team was simply too big, as in physically big, and older than our guys.
I love the passion and determination in these shots, and it was fun to fiddle with the editing. These games will be our Saturday afternoon activity throughout the year. Since I am a  Hoosier at heart, I'm looking forward to it.

The moment I've dreaded

The date has been on my calendar since mid August--Anna's orthodontist appointment on the 27th of September.

Last November, Anna's dentist had her see an orthodontist. It was time to correct her underbite while her mouth was still developing. Since this seemed early to me, I checked into it, but this kind of thing can be fixed relatively simply while the mouth is still developing.

The first orthodontist did not work. There is actually a long story involving tears and desperate prayers.

Another long story short: the lady who I buy fruit and vegetables from at the market recommended a kind orthodontist whose office is just down the street.

We saw her. She and her office staff were patient and kind, and Anna eventually got two simple retainers. The top was attached to bands on two back teeth and the bottom was to be taken out for meals. These were not to stay on for long--six months. June 1st to December, and then we would see.

From the occupational therapist's report, we know now that Anna's oral sensitivities are severe, so you can all imagine how this whole process went, and you would be about right. Anna was very brave, and usually brought a stuffed animal, but it was not easy.

Anna played with the bottom retainer constantly; it made a funny clicking noise when it clicked in. When she had a hard time wearing it, I let it go since I figured we had six months anyway, and we could go easy the first few weeks. She eventually got used to wearing it, but moved it around in her mouth constantly.

By the time we had her first appointment back, she had broken a wire off the top retainer. So it was taken out to be repaired, and we scheduled an appointment ten days later to have it put back in.

In the meantime, on a day when we went up to have a barbecue with friends out of town, we lost the bottom retainer. We have gone over the day over and over...she had it in her mouth in the car, not in the swimming pool, etc. Gone.

When we went to have the upper retainer put back in, I braced myself to inform the orthodontist that we lost the bottom retainer. But she wasn't there; she had a replacement. However, Anna would have none of it, and we had to reschedule for a few weeks later when our orthodontist would be back from vacation.

The second week of August we had our appointment and the appliance was put back on with a minimum of fuss. The orthodontist did not chastise me about the loss of the bottom one. She even said that we may not need it at this point because the bottom teeth looked like they were in good position.

After about ten days, one of the wires was broken off. Then a band around a back tooth came off (not magically by itself, mind you). We traveled to England for our orientation conference in Gloucester where eventually half the upper retainer was hanging from one side of her mouth. Another long story involving tears, desperate prayers, and a very patient and kind British orthodontist, and what was left of the retainer ended up in a ziplock bag.

So, the date for our next official appointment with the orthodontist was today. I wanted to talk to our occupational therapist for her opinion on how to move forward, which I did a few weeks ago. We both agreed that it may be better to wait six months and work on exercises to desensitize Anna's mouth in the meantime.

I practiced my little speech about all of this in my head. The orthodontist is always pleasant and understanding, but I was afraid of her reaction to seeing the mangled, dental appliance in a plastic baggie instead of in Anna's mouth. And, as always, I like to be the cooperative, not difficult person--two broken appliances and a lost one within four months qualifies as difficult, not to mention the difficulty involved in just getting my kid to sit in the chair, put her head back, and open her mouth.

The doctor was, as always, kind and understanding. She said we were probably right, then had Anna get in the new pink chair to see her teeth. This was not done without some difficulty, but finally Anna was seated with her mouth open.

And, get this, she said they are fine. Anna's teeth. As in, no underbite. She actually used the word miracle. In a few years, Anna will probably need braces to straighten out her top teeth, but that's it.

So, I feel, of course thankful, and somewhat bemused about the whole thing. It's been such a difficult thing since the whole process began last November. And now this chapter is closed for a while.

I'll end with the mangled appliance...

Sleeping with Lentils

I mentioned in a previous post that Anna has always had trouble sleeping. She can lay awake in bed for hours, looking at books, trying to stay still and quiet, coming out to go to the bathroom...at times until midnight. Fear can play into it; she will be fearful of an image from a movie, most recently Wallace and Gromit's The Curse of the Were-Rabbit. We have a big star night light in her room, stick on glowy sheep on her walls and ceiling, evening routines, etc. We've gotten mostly used to it, and Scott, being the patient adult after 9pm in the household, sits in her room with youtube sleep music playing on the computer while she drifts off to sleep.

This summer, as I researched sensory processing disorder and sleeping, I came across weighted blankets as a sleep aid.  Weighted blankets have some kind of heavy filling sewn in them--pellets, beans, lentils--so that their weight is evenly distributed. The theory is that the pressure the blanket gives causes some people to produce neurotransmitters like dopamine and serotonin which have a calming effect on the body. The blankets are available for sale, but there are instructions online for making them at home as well.

When I read about these, I was discouraged. They aren't cheap. And although the directions for making them are manageable for someone with a sewing machine and experience with this kind of thing, I have neither. The money and/or the hassle would be well worth it if I knew it would work, but there are no guarantees. They work for some kids, not others.

So, at our first face to face meeting with Anna's occupational therapist, we said we would like to prioritize helping Anna get to sleep at night. The occupational therapist went behind a curtain, and came out with this...

The O.T. made it herself, and each square is filled with a precise amount of lentils. It is small, reaching from Anna's chin, just past her feet. She has been sleeping with it for six days now.

Does it work? Well, for now Scott is still sitting in her room with sleepy music playing every night (actually me tonight). But, on the second night, Anna  got into bed before anyone was in her room. She seems to be feeling more secure. And she likes it.

So, we'll wait and see. It would be lovely for her and us if she could pop into bed at night on her own and be asleep within twenty minutes.

Back to School Night

Last night was back to school night at Justin's school. He is in the seventh grade. Here, that is the second of four years in middle school.

The evening is predictable; two hours of each of the teachers coming into the classroom, explaining their program, how the class is doing, etc.

Also predictable was the opening parental outcry against heavy backpacks. Apparently, on Tuesday, one student's backpack weighed 18.2 kilos. Forty pounds. The kids don't have lockers because there's no room for them, and there are no shelves in the classroom to store books on. This discussion lasted a while.

A few general observations:

1. These teachers are passionate about their subject matter and how they teach it.

2. The kids are getting a solid education using up-to-date technology. They probably are doing less on the computer than American kids; essays are still written, not typed. But the teachers are using  interactive white boards and doing cool things like dissecting fish heads from the market. I can't say that at twelve I would have enjoyed this, but I still think it's a good thing.

3. The chairs are really hard and uncomfortable, and there is absolutely nothing on the classroom walls. I guess this is because the kids are not changing classrooms; the teachers are coming to them.  But it does feel stark.

4. The physical education program is way better than what I had in junior high. As I mentioned in a previous post, the kids are sailing now, and will be moving on to ping pong, badminton, swimming, circus skills, and finish with rugby. Circus skills? It's because they have to do something cultural, and the options were circus or dance. They'll be learning to juggle; hopefully no trapeze or lion taming...In any case, way better than the weekly dodge ball games that I was subjected to throughout junior high and high school.

As we were leaving, a few parents were discussing rugby. This is a photo of an insurance ad in today's paper featuring a rugby player after a match (in case that wasn't immediately clear). I can understand the hesitation here. Rugby doesn't come across as a very safe sport for twelve year olds.

Justin's best friend is sporty, but tiny. His mom is hoping that maybe he'll be allowed just to be a goal post or something (are there goal posts in rugby?).

Strengths

I read the following here at Scot McKnight's blog at the end of July in a post remembering John Stott, pastor, speaker, author: 

It was the summer of 1975. Kris and I were in Belgium at a huge Christian event called EuroFest. I was sitting at a panel discussion and someone I admired, a British pastor and minister to college students all over the world, John Stott, was one of the panelists. A long-haired young man to my right asked John Stott a question we were all facing and that we all face: How can I discern the Lord’s will for my life?

John Stott made an observation that clarified my dream for me, and I’ve pondered his answer over and over in my life. I’ve used his answer in countless talks and conversations. Here are his words as I recall them: “Here’s how to determine God’s will for your life: Go wherever your gifts will be exploited the most.”

The quote has stuck with me over the last two months.

During our orientation conference in August, we received training on  Strengths Based Leadership. Besides the value of thinking through my particular strengths and how to use and develop them, I have been thinking about my kids and how we help them develop their strengths and abilities.

Justin is a sporty kid. For the last five years, he has had some kind of after school sports activity--basketball, gymnastics, tennis, back to basketball. He is absolutely loving it. I am not sporty at all (besides my attempts at exercise), and my physical education courses in school were at best embarrassing and at worst demoralizing.   When Justin came home last year with the highest grade in his class in physical education,  I just about rolled my eyes. Although I allow the extra activities, it didn't hit me until recently, that I don't really celebrate that strength in him. I did finally fully congratulate him this month for his amazing score in physical education at school. Better late than never.

One of the myriad of reasons that Anna struggled so much with school last year is that practically all her school day was spent doing what was difficult for her; writing and working with material that was too visually charged. It's like if I as a child had to take physical education classes all day, every day. The very thought makes me cringe. My poor kid. 

I meet with her teacher before school this morning to talk through modifications to put in place as we work with the occupational therapist. For now, we'll be reducing the amount of handwriting that she needs to do so that her energies can be focused on learning. 

Next post: Anna's lentil-filled blanket 

Making Friends

Thursday, I was worried. Many, many details have fallen into place with school and Anna's adjustment. But as I left her in line, she was standing alone, forlorn, and lagged behind the group as her class went up the steps.

I am learning to advocate for her, but I can't make friends for her. 

When I picked her up in the afternoon, she was cheerful and said that she had a new friend. Now we have a play date for Wednesday at her new friend's house.

I love quick answers to desperate prayers.

Also, on the friend front, Anna decided that she wanted to make friends with an older lady down the hall who has dogs. I was a little hesitant about this. We have always said hello to this lady and helped her out years ago when her toilet was flooding, but showing up with my daughter at her door felt a little too forward to me.

So, I put Anna off for a day and said we needed to at least make cookies to bring with us. Thursday I made chocolate chip cookies, and we took a plate of them over and rang the doorbell. No response and some tears. We tried again later (with the warning that we would only try if Anna would not get too upset if she wasn't there), and figured that she was probably out walking the dogs. Finally, on our third try, she was back. We offered our cookies and friendship; we came in and chatted.

It turns out that after babysitting her great grandson during the week for the last few years,  he started school this year, so she has been feeling a little lonely. She said Anna could visit anytime and was extremely happy with the kids' offer to accompany her walking the dogs although she warned that they wouldn't accept anyone else holding the leash.

So, Anna spent a good deal of time with our neighbor yesterday afternoon and helped walk her dogs in the evening. And the smaller of the two dogs obeyed perfectly with Anna taking the leash. Our neighbor was pleased to have companionship (some plans to be with family had fallen through), and Anna was thrilled to hang out with the dogs, watch tv, and make a new friend.

Handwriting

One thing that Anna will be working on with her occupational therapist (O.T.) is handwriting. Handwriting and presentation of work is very important in the French system, and there is a lot of it.

So, here is why, according to testing in July, Anna's handwriting isn't good:

She has a problem with visual perception when there is too much going on visually. French writing paper looks like this. It is the definition of too much going on visually.

During our telephone appointment last Thursday, our O.T. said she saw American lined notebooks at one of the large, Wal-mart type supermarkets, so I hopped on the tram and found these. They weren't cheap, over three euros each, but a bargain compared to finding them online and shipping them here.

Anna still needs a few small notebooks, which are not available here, but our O.T. had a friend who was traveling in Sweden and picked some up. So, we'll have them next week, when we have our first face-to-face appointment since testing in July.

Another issue with too much going on visually is the way French third grade exercise books and worksheets look.

Since this is definitely too much visual information going on, we cut the exercise that she needs to do and put a maximum of two on a page. We glue this into her snazzy notebook.

There is also some issue with processing information on the right side of the page if she is searching for information on a page. Practically, if we had a Where's Waldo (Wally for British folk) book, she would be better able to find him on the left than on the right. Fortunately, she isn't tested in her finding Waldo skills, but I'm sure it comes into play as she visually processes school work throughout the day.

Copying from the board is extremely difficult, partly because of the muscle movement involved in moving her head up and down as she copies. So, she is given a paper to copy from on her desk. Easy fix.

Anna also has trouble adjusting the amount of pressure needed to hold her paper in place and to write. There are fine motor issues as well, and she tires easily.

Handwriting is a concrete example of a seemingly simple daily activity that is so very complex for my kid. Some of the fixes are relatively easy, like photocopying, cutting, and pasting exercises. Some are less so, like searching for non-French notebooks. Others will only happen with time and with the aid of a professional. 

Even the easy fixes involved composing e-mails in French, appointments with both the O.T. and the teachers, and shopping trips (including a person I have never met before shopping for me in Sweden). 

There is also a lot of advocating involved in helping Anna get what she needs, a role that stretches me. I like for people to like me, and I don't like to push. And now that I know what we are dealing with, I do need to act and be pushy sometimes. Lately, a lot. 

Books

If you come to our apartment and peruse our book shelves, you will find out a lot about me. There are biographies, from Saint Augustine to Malcom X; novels, from Don Quixote to the Kite Runner; and plenty of books on Christian living, prayer, and theology. There is my brief foray into researching the plague. Not kidding.

But my books tell someone else's story as well. Today I am writing about our journey to understand our daughter.

I read lots and lots of adoption books early on. Now that I'm in the middle of actually raising my adopted children, I don't read them at all. Maybe because I'm too busy actually raising them.

That said, I will be dusting this one off as Justin is speeding ahead into adolescence and issues will need to be revisited and talked about on a deeper level.

This one is a more recent arrival on our shelves. Our children are growing up in a country that is not their "passport" country. So, their sense of identity, who they are and where they belong, will likely take a while figure out.

Anna has never ever slept well. Ever. She takes a long time to get to sleep, and easily gets to a state of panic if she has seen something disturbing or scary.

The research and principles here have helped us at least to understand what is going on.

I ordered this one last fall, when Anna was having tantrums when she came home from school, when she saw what we were having for dinner, when she didn't want to walk anymore...you get the picture. Although it didn't lead me directly to the real solution (get her out of her school and get her difficulties diagnosed), it did help me find ways to reduce her stress and help me to react appropriately to help her calm down.

So, in the end, I guess my explosive child was trying to tell me that she had a diagnosable condition that needed treatment and, "Get me out of the French school system now!"


So, all of this has led us to a diagnosis of sensory processing disorder. It may be genetic in her case, or could be a result of her time in an orphanage where she was not getting the stimulation and care that she would have had in a family. Justin was in an orphanage for the same amount of time, and clearly had some sensory processing issues, but they were not as debilitating as Anna's.

One note about the orphanage. This was not a place where the children were not cared for. It's just that a few nurses, no matter how loving and attentive, cannot give full attention and stimulation to each baby. Especially if a baby already has unknown special needs.

What SPD means for Anna is that she has trouble processing oral, auditory, tactile, proprioceptive, and vestibular information. Yes, two of those words are new for me too.

She is hyper sensitive in some ways, especially orally. Teeth brushing was a battle when she was little. Some of our most painful moments in the last few years (painful as in both of us were in tears) involve dentists, orthodontists, and mouth x-rays. Now we know why.

She is hypo sensitive in others, like her tactile sense. This explains her habit of practically squeezing the life out of Negra as Justin yells, "Stop torturing the cat!" This happens just about every day in our house.

Some of her issues are easy to fix. For example, she has always gotten sick to her stomach and somewhat panicky when we travel in a car, train, or airplane. She will panic after just a few minutes in an airport and complain about feeling ill. Now that I know that she is hyper-sensitive to smells, I give  her a small bottle of aromatherapy lemon scent that I picked up at a pharmacy and  she uses it whenever she needs it when we travel. Easy fix.

Other things will be more difficult. I'll post about writing to give an example later this week.

Other things she might always have to deal with. We don't know what these things will be yet.

Posts this week: Writing and Strengths

Picasso

As we talk on the way home from school, daily I question Anna to find out about her day. Interrogate may be a more accurate description. I'm dying to know everything.

Her first answers this week were what she hated. On Monday she hated the school because she spilled her water during lunch, was scolded (maybe), and the kids laughed.

On Tuesday she hated the first graders. Really hated the first graders. This took a while to understand. I couldn't figure out how a small group of cute six year olds could incur Anna's wrath. Through a great deal of questioning on my part, I discovered the source of the conflict-- her class doesn't eat lunch until  1 pm because the first graders go before them. And Anna was hungry that day. She's eaten a good breakfast every morning since. She's frying up bacon to add to her regular fare to make it through (we're working on the kids learning more kitchen skills). And they have a mid-morning snack.

No school on Wednesday,  though next week she will try the Mini Club that the school runs.

Yesterday, she didn't hate anything. This was progress.

As I questioned her about her day, she recounted a long story (she drew it out because she knew it was dramatic and worth telling well) of how one of the school cooks cut her forehead while the third graders were eating lunch. This was told with lots of pantomime of how the cutting may have happened  and  completed with example of the kid' facial expressions and reactions to the yell of the cook. This was clearly the most memorable event of the day.

Using my advanced interrogation skills, we stopped at the Italian gelateria, where I bought her a single scoop cone, hoping to glean some more information. We sat down on the bench outside next to an older French woman.  I asked Anna again about her day, and the French lady asked me in English if I was American. I said yes, whereupon she embraced me, kissed me on the cheek, and thanked me for coming to France's aid during World War 2.

I'm not kidding. Anna and I didn't get much talking done on the bench.

It wasn't until 8:30 that Anna filled us in on the best part of her day. Her class of sixteen had been split in two so they could do art and music in smaller groups.

Instead of telling me about music, she walks over to the piano (a used digital piano that we bought for Justin's piano lessons last year), and with correct finger positioning (as far as I can tell), shows me fa sol la ti do while naming the notes. Then she takes a notebook and draws the treble clef and shows where fa is. And then she says some Italian words because the music teacher is Italian. And the class takes place in Italian. Too cool.

Then we move on to art. Miss Helen showed the class works of art by three artists. The children  chose one of the artists and drew their own picture in that artists' style.
Here's what is cool and what led Anna to say, "God is really taking care of me."

Several days ago Anna pulled a book off our shelves that we had never read together. It's a picture book that tells about Pablo Picasso's childhood. Pablito drew pictures on walls, painted his sister's face with egg yolk, and engaged in other inappropriate artistic behaviors until his father, an amateur artist, saw one of his drawings in the sand and turned over his art materials so his kid could draw and paint on more appropriate surfaces. Anna identifies with little Pablo being misunderstood and feeling frustrated. So she had me read it twice, and we decided that we would visit the Picasso museum Saturday to celebrate the end of the first week of school.

So, of course this Thursday,  one of the three artists was Pablo Picasso, and though I don't know what she drew at school, at home she drew four line drawings of his work as she told me about it.