Vanessa: “Uh, oh, broken” while pointing up at the night’s sky.
Me: “What’s broken?” I asked while looking up to see what she was talking about.
Vanessa: “Moon broken.”
Me: “What do you mean the moon is broken?”
Vanessa: “No other half.”
We were looking at a half moon. We, as probably most families do, make a big deal about the full moon. At its fullness, it is bright, very large and round…perfect. But we hardly make a big fuss out of any of the other moon’s phases, as they are just not as impressive. But on this night, Vanessa pointed out how beautiful it can be, in any of its phases, even if it is not perfect.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Friday, October 10, 2008
Making wonderful progress
Vanessa has been in school for a few weeks now, although given that she only goes twice a week, it has really only been a few handful of days that she has actually attended. When she started, I was nervous, truthfully extremely nervous, about how she will transition into the classroom. Separation from me is a challenge for her, although she is now capable of it with several individuals. There were months of her life where I thought that she was never going to leave my side; that the umbilical cord wasn’t ever cut in the hospital. Attending therapy has really done wonders for her in this area. And I truly have to give her OT a huge amount of credit for working with Vanessa on separation. Of course, Vanessa took to her OT as her second mom, but they are now working on that too. I pictured the separation at school to be similar to how she first began separation for her sessions…lots and lots of tears. But I think something has changed with her through the process of separating for her sessions…she has learned that Mommy does come back.
When I drop her off at school, we slowly walk in to the classroom together, usually holding hands. I refuse to carry her, but I will hold her hand. And I let her walk in at her own pace. So even if we actually get to the school parking lot on time, we are always late arriving into the classroom because it can take us a long time to make it from the car to the classroom. It’s like trying to hurry a turtle…it just doesn’t happen. And I don’t push her along, or try to rush her, because then it adds to her anxiety and I am trying to keep that low on those school mornings since she knows she has to cope without me being there.
Once in the classroom, we walk over to her picture schedule and we talk about Mommy coming back at playground time. We look at all of the fun activities that she will do before Mommy comes back. Then she gives me a big hug and a kiss, reminds me that she wants a red lollipop, and out the door I go. The first few days I stayed the entire time; then I stayed for a little bit in the beginning of the morning and came back early before school was over. And now, I am able to leave her the entire time. This is a miracle in itself!
She is able to hold herself together the entire time at school. She relies on her thumb for comfort, a habit that we’ll work on breaking later, and will seek out a teacher if she needs some extra attention. Arriving at home is still a challenge and will often result in a meltdown within several minutes of walking in the door. But who can blame her? She worked so hard to keep her emotional level intact for two and a half hours that she deserves to let it go. Picking up the pieces is tiring, especially since I know it is going to happen every time after school. But I can usually give her some snuggles and extra love and fill her tank back up.
When I drop her off at school, we slowly walk in to the classroom together, usually holding hands. I refuse to carry her, but I will hold her hand. And I let her walk in at her own pace. So even if we actually get to the school parking lot on time, we are always late arriving into the classroom because it can take us a long time to make it from the car to the classroom. It’s like trying to hurry a turtle…it just doesn’t happen. And I don’t push her along, or try to rush her, because then it adds to her anxiety and I am trying to keep that low on those school mornings since she knows she has to cope without me being there.
Once in the classroom, we walk over to her picture schedule and we talk about Mommy coming back at playground time. We look at all of the fun activities that she will do before Mommy comes back. Then she gives me a big hug and a kiss, reminds me that she wants a red lollipop, and out the door I go. The first few days I stayed the entire time; then I stayed for a little bit in the beginning of the morning and came back early before school was over. And now, I am able to leave her the entire time. This is a miracle in itself!
She is able to hold herself together the entire time at school. She relies on her thumb for comfort, a habit that we’ll work on breaking later, and will seek out a teacher if she needs some extra attention. Arriving at home is still a challenge and will often result in a meltdown within several minutes of walking in the door. But who can blame her? She worked so hard to keep her emotional level intact for two and a half hours that she deserves to let it go. Picking up the pieces is tiring, especially since I know it is going to happen every time after school. But I can usually give her some snuggles and extra love and fill her tank back up.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Blows way past her mother's ability
For me, puzzles are a challenge; they take me forever, I have to use the picture on the box as a reference the entire time, and eventually I just lose my patience. So I just don’t do them very often. And I am not even talking 1000-piece adult puzzles, but 100-piece children’s puzzles too. When I do a puzzle, I start by finding all of the edge pieces and then randomly pick-and-choose pieces until I find their place. I thought that this is how everyone does a puzzle.
Apparently not.
Katelyn was working on a puzzle of the United States today. This one, I feel, is much more complicated than a traditional puzzle, since only the edge pieces inter-lock and the middle pieces just line up next to each other. She has completed this puzzle only a handful of times before, and she is only four, so what are the odds that she would be able to finish this entire puzzle of the United States without the picture?
Apparently pretty good.
It was absolutely amazing to watch her compete this puzzle. The box sat with me the entire time, so I know she wasn’t looking at the picture. And no, we have not forced her to memorize each state’s location.
Then, she went on to do a large 100-piece puzzle, with a beautiful sea life picture. Watching her do this puzzle was just fascinating. She completed it row-by-row, usually starting out at the top, working her way down. She can see a piece and knows exactly where it fits. She has memorized “its place” among the entire puzzle, even after completing the puzzle just one time.
Photographic memory perhaps?
Apparently not.
Katelyn was working on a puzzle of the United States today. This one, I feel, is much more complicated than a traditional puzzle, since only the edge pieces inter-lock and the middle pieces just line up next to each other. She has completed this puzzle only a handful of times before, and she is only four, so what are the odds that she would be able to finish this entire puzzle of the United States without the picture?
Apparently pretty good.
It was absolutely amazing to watch her compete this puzzle. The box sat with me the entire time, so I know she wasn’t looking at the picture. And no, we have not forced her to memorize each state’s location.
Then, she went on to do a large 100-piece puzzle, with a beautiful sea life picture. Watching her do this puzzle was just fascinating. She completed it row-by-row, usually starting out at the top, working her way down. She can see a piece and knows exactly where it fits. She has memorized “its place” among the entire puzzle, even after completing the puzzle just one time.
Photographic memory perhaps?
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