vision therapy boy

Tim's in vision therapy this fall. It's going well. He's going to be up to speed at reading shortly, probably by spring he'll be at grade level. This is why we started homeschooling in the first place--dyslexia. It's a genetic thing--half the kids are dyslexic. They call things like this learning disabilities, but I don't believe it. I think it's a variation of normal. (Now we homeschool for a lot of other reasons too.)

 Vision therapy is done like physical therapy only for the eyes. The specialist involved is a developmental optometrist, and after evaluation, the kids go to the vision therapy lab twice a week, 45 minutes each time. It takes a few months to complete. Progress isn't dramatic at first. Week by week, hardly noticeable at all. But month by month, definitely huge improvement.

 About a year later, their writing starts to take off too. (The point I knew James' vision therapy was a success was the day I asked him to pick up toys in the family room, and a little while later saw him sitting on the coffee table in the middle of the mess--reading a People magazine.) 

 Insurance used to cover this completely, but no longer does. It even requires a referral from a pediatrician to cover any of it. So Tim went to the pediatrician for the first time in his life. It was okay. The doc looked him over, asked what medication he takes, what his health problems are. 

 None. 

 None? 

 "No, none. He's easy to live with, and so healthy it's sickening." That made him laugh, "So healthy it's sickening." 

 It's true though. Then we sat down to the question of the referral, and this doctor is not a jerk. The few times we've seen him, he's really tried to be respectful of our home-birthing, homeschooling weirdness. He never gives me a tone, a sneer, none of the condescending attitudes we used to run into in the past.

 But he told me all about how vision therapy is unproven, probably doesn't work, and the kid would just learn to read when he was ready. He talked for a long time, giving me his most sincere medical advice, then brought me some literature from the board of ophthalmologists, and ended by saying, "In my opinion what he needs is a tutor." 

 ??? 

 !!! 

 Well, what the hell am I then? If I haven't been tutoring him for the last three years, what would you call it?? (I didn't say this.) 

 Way back when, our oldest son John had me helping him at home, PLUS two special ed teachers AND a regular teacher and he still battled to learn to read. We finally discovered vision therapy when he was ten and had finally removed him from school entirely. He could read only a little--cartoon books with one line of print under a cartoon, for example. Six months after vision therapy he was reading the newspaper. Anyway, so after giving me all this information he asked if I still wanted the referral. I said, "Yeah, I think I do." He nodded, and wrote it for me. It might not work for every type of reading delay, but it does help whatever is going on with my kids. Keep going Timmy. You're going to be reading in no time. love, Mom

saturday at the historical farm

Not much to say, just a beautiful afternoon.



















They loved the animals and demonstrations, and complained the guy who ran the hayride told terrible jokes. I didn't even know they knew what a terrible joke was, so I found that pretty funny. Oh well, a great day. love, Val

babysitting friday

We had a few kids here for the day, pretty fun.

As soon as t.c. got here he ran to Tim's room, "Tiiim! Get uuuup! I'm heeeere!"

Tim was up late last night playing Zoo Tycoon in bed on that old laptop. He was not planning on getting up for a long time.

t.c. had plans for him though, "We're going to clean out the dollhouse! You have to help me!"

Tim looked seriously annoyed. He finally did drag himself on out to the patio, but he did NOT want to sweep out the dollhouse. He said, "What's the point? This is going to take all day." (Untrue. Fifteen minutes maybe. Plus what's his busy schedule?)

He stood there frowning disgustedly as he watched t.c. throw everything out the door and take off sweeping. It is hard to wake up, that's for sure--and to wake up to an overly energetic nephew with big ideas? Oh, yeah.

Anyway, after he was fully awake they did have a good time, played with all the little guys and Legos and the castle.

Other kids played dress up and hide and seek, and there was a lot of running all over the house and shrieking. It was over 80 degrees today, so the game went in and out the doors, all over.

This is cute though--Dannell's niece m.c. has been staying with them, and she's intrigued by homeschool and asked if I'd make her a packet of work too.

I make each of them a packet of work every week, random pages from the dozens of workbooks in the file cabinet. There's no plan to it, just whatever catches my eye as I'm thumbing through the books. Today was Lincoln, the planet Uranus, the state of Georgia, Venice, some area problems.

Usually they work on them all week here and there when they're bored. The only thing I really care if they do or not is the math.


She and Kari spent hours up in Maria's room working on their packets. They came downstairs a couple times looking for encyclopedias. Around lunch time I went upstairs and teased her, "This is your day off of school, and here you are doing school work?" She was so enthusiastic about the packet it made me laugh. What a hard working kid.


Tonight Little Jay is home from the university for the weekend and he and Sumi, James and Maria all went to the homecoming game at the high school. Usually it's cold at homecoming, but not tonight--it's a perfect night to be at a football game.


Julia's here thinking about one-card poker. It's a good idea. This has been a weird week, with me gone a lot. She and I need to reconnect. Happy Friday. love, Val

one more of Maria

This was Dan's last year of homeschool, and he spent it making Malt O Meal and carrying Maria around, hanging out, watching Northern Exposure at noon. I enjoyed his company very much. Just like now, at 14, he was sarcastically astute, generally quite kind, and easy to be around.

The last year they spent in homeschool is always how it is. I wrote about it once, though maybe I've shared this here before:

"We’re back into the routines of fall, and a deep quiet has come over this house. The oldest boys have returned to their dorms at college and our oldest daughter is away at school all day. This is Kirsten’s last year of home school and I’ve noticed how quiet she has become too.

The oldest child grew quiet during his eighth grade year; he only dressed if he had to, spent most of his time in pajamas or sweats, and he did all his schoolwork in his bed. He slept a lot and lacked interest in arguing with his siblings or going with us anywhere. I worried that he was depressed.

Then our second son also became introspective and peaceful in the year before he left our home school. He got up early, showered and dressed, did his schoolwork by himself, was finished by noon, watched Northern Exposure, carried Baby Maria around, cooked a lot of Malt O Meal and wouldn’t go with the rest of us anywhere.

When the third child behaved this way in eighth grade, it was no surprise to me then, and now I see it in Kirsten just as she is turning fourteen. It’s as though the disorganized, emotional, feisty state of a person at thirteen evolves into something else at fourteen.

Nobody told me this—that the introspection and quiet are normal, that the kids are storing up energy before they head out into the world, but I can see it now.

The girl I am spending my days with is not the scrappy, sassy child she’s been, with freckles and a long braid down her back and teeth too big for her mouth. She wears her hair in a bun these days and her teeth fit just fine. Cross-country running this fall has changed her body in the same way it did her older sister. She’s still tiny, only five feet tall, but she’s become leaner; her neck looks longer.

I’ve been watching her lie on the floor enjoying Kari crawling all over her. I see her baking and leading art projects for the little kids. I hear her playing her oboe just for the pleasure of it, and even in the tone—it used to sound like a bad, honking clarinet that made me scrunch up my eyes on the high notes. Now it sounds lustrous. It sounds like Kirsten becoming.

Are there are other times in life we go inward like this in preparation to take flight? We live in such an overly busy world, I wonder if we even get the chance, most of us, to do this when it’s right. It’s something I have to think about."

Kirsten's life is becoming again right now in ways that amaze me.

Anyway, Dan was brilliant in child diplomacy. He'd give Baby Jay a video game controller that wasn't actually hooked up and let him go nuts. Later, Jay was too smart for this, but it worked at the time. John was talking about it the other night how Jay always had to be First Player and Yoshi, or he'd bawl and carry on, and it still brings back memories every time. (True, some racket is unforgettable.)

Well. I don't doubt this. But looking at how cute Baby Jay was, I see how it happened. We called him Napoleon behind his back. (The Little Dictator, get it?) Yeah.

Now he's an extremely considerate and pleasant adult. Wow, that worked out, eh? Kind of like how Maria evolved from "a little round lump, bump, bump," to this elegant woman.



Okay, time for bed. Hug your kids tight. Things are finer than you ever imagined. love, Val

she's sixteen

Today.

And everyone teases her, "Sweet Sixteen and never been kissed." (She's had a marriage proposal, but never been kissed. Hunh?) Tonight Julia said, "Yes, you have too been kissed. Mom kisses you all the time." Maria threw back her head and laughed. That's not the kind of kissing we're talking about.


Sixteen years ago she was born. (And yes we all kissed her. Many times.)


That's her in the funny hat on Little Jay's lap.


This is a picture my mom says she loves. I look like crap. It was a very long night before this little girl was finally born. After I saw these pictures, I threw that window shade away and bought a new one. Good grief on that.

But this was us dressing Maria for the first time, and she was so beautiful. Between Little Jay and Maria we'd had three miscarriages, and honestly, the day she was born was one of the most perfect days of a lifetime. She felt like a promise come true. Her dad chose her middle name Chantal, and it was exactly right.

It was not an easy labor. The level of pain seemed unnecessary--a blow torch out the iliac crests hour after hour. I considered jumping out the window while Jay was driving John to school, but we were only on the first floor. I threw myself around and thought bad language, desperately unhappy things. Maria's heart rate was strong, she was responsive the whole time. I couldn't identify a problem other than my miserable bitching.

Yet after she came out, I was completely overjoyed and exhilarated, no matter how cross I had been in those last hours. Part of it was finally having gorgeous Maria in my arms. But also in the process I found out how strong I really am, and that's not a small thing to know.

Heidi and Kirsten were soooo excited about this baby sister. Plus, she was like even extra beautiful with chubby lips and round cheeks, and soft, curly hair. They took turns holding her and brushing her hair. Finally, at two they left for a birthday party, and I could have Maria all to myself for a couple hours.

And here she is, just for fun:


That's her in the middle in the fancy dress.


Getting teased by her brothers


At seven

With her precious little dog

Maria with Kari and James

Meeting their first nephew


At John and Dannell's wedding

Julia and Maria

Finally, here's this one. She's about two months old here, and Jay has unzipped his Barney pajamas, offering to nurse her. She might be tiny--look, her little bitty hands don't even really work yet, but she's MASTERED the dubious expression, oh my gosh.

Time for bed. Happy Birthday, Most Beautiful Girl. Sweetheart, this whole darn family is better with YOU in it. YOU. Nobody else could ever be you. love, Mom and Dad

okay, talking about my coffee table

This is a very fine coffee table, bought at JC Penney about 15 years ago. It's solid oak, and I paid about $200. Okay, see it in the picture there? Ordinary. Fine.

John says I got my money's worth out of that thing. I disagree. An oak coffee table that cost hundreds of dollars should last a lifetime.

Well.

Table? Meet the family.

I guess a few weeks ago a guy fell on it or something. (Obviously nobody told me.) Then another guy kicked into it. And Maria was doing exercises by tying a stretch strap to a table leg as a counter weight.

Sigh.

Okay, so a week or two ago, we were about to leave town, and there's my damned table with a leg off! Nobody knows why! Spontaneous busting.

I was horrified and we took the books off, turned it upside down, and I glued the broken leg back together. When we came home a couple days later, I put it back together again. Goodness.

More sighing.

THEN apparently Tim caught his toe on the glued leg this morning. John later came through the living room and kicked it. All at once, we got a table on three legs. John and I caught it, along with my plate and a sea of books and magazines and crap, and WHAT IS UP WITH THIS TABLE?

John and I shoved the leg back under and continued on. This is a cute little table--golden brown finish, Queen Anne.

Then b.g. wanted to walk around it and it's just all an accident waiting to happen, so I had Jay carry it out to the family room to put it aside.

okay, table leaving. notice t.c. has already been knocked in the nose somehow. that girl next to maria is a friend of hers.


Not ten minutes later, the screaming was atrocious. O. M. G. Scared us all half to death. l.c. had pulled the coffee table off the bench where Jay put it upside down, and onto his ankle. (He was fine.) But wow.

THEN, an hour later, here's m.c., John and Dannell's niece, crying with an injured butt--fell backward onto the coffee table which Jay had now placed on the FLOOR in a corner of the family room.

Seriously. It was carried out there to avoid accidents and how we have multiple injuries?



Here's a guy in the stairway with a nerf gun, watching others open their gifts.
Yeah, well.


And now time to blow out candles. Joe turned 26 a few days ago. When I went to open the door tonight when they arrived, there he was at the screen with his gorgeous blue eyes, the lovely way they tilt at the corners, their dog's head sticking THROUGH the rip in the screen. (Hillbilly anyone? That screen is getting fixed shortly.)



Happy Birthday, Bud. We do love you. love, Val

a peaceful weekend

click on this if you want. that speck in the sky is the eagle.

We spent it in Wisconsin, doing a whole lot of nothing much.


kids making collages--all you need is an idea--a theme (could be anything,) a scissors, a glue stick, and a pile of magazines...


sidney relaxing while we watched roman holiday


james learning to split wood

can we kind of get off those sheds? they aren't for people to be on





tim helping john winterize his boat



John was there, putting away their trailer for the year, and the kids put in Smokey and the Bandit (eyes rolling) about lunchtime on Saturday. He sat at the table with his meal and started spouting off lines from the movie.

Good Lor-ed.

"The fact you're a sheriff is not germane to the situation."

Jackie Gleason: "The GOD DAMNED Germans got nothin' to do with it!"

Oh yeah, much laughing.

Or this one, understated, "Put da evidence in da car, Son." Gales of laughter.

Back when he and Dan were small I told them they could watch this movie if they NEVER, EVER repeated any of the awful language in it. You got that? Not ONE of those hilarious cuss words. None.

They promised.

So we're at a red light a few days later, and the guy in front of us was having a terrible time making a left turn. It's a busy intersection, true, and takes practice there. KIRSTEN was in the back, in a car seat, sucking her tiny thumb. I heard the little pop as the thumb came out, and then this: "That some bitch couldn't even open a umbrewwa."

Seriously? The BABY? They hid their faces, laughing. Oh yeah, very cute.

Anyway, that led to the conversation this--the woman we bought the cabin from died last week. She was wonderful--kind, funny, real. She told me this story of how she'd gone to Hayward, the big tourist town, and bought suckers in the candy shop for the children staying at her resort. They were cute little suckers wrapped in festive cellophane--had pretend bugs in the transparent candy. She gave them to the parents to give to the children at the right time--not wanting to spoil their appetites for any meals or whatever.

Later she realized they were booze-flavored suckers, tequila and such.

Yes.

Then she felt horrified, wondered if the parents thought she was crazy. Nobody ever said anything to her, but the mortification of it. God bless you, Carol, you Sweetheart, gone way, way too soon.

We sat out by the fire last night, Sam asleep on the ground a short distance away, ash from the fire falling on her. Suddenly she leaped up and ran to the edge of the woods, plunged into the brush, darting this way and that. She'd seen a rabbit. All we could see of her was the white tip of her plume of a tail waving.

I said, "There was a song, a long time ago. I can hardly remember it."

After I sat there a minute watching Sam's tail in the dusk, words came back to me, "They ran through the briars, and they ran through the brambles, and they ran through the bushes where a rabbit couldn't go... they ran so fast that the hounds couldn't catch them, ran all the way to the Gulf of Mexico."

Jay knew the song, took a guess at the band. I seriously think it's time to de-fragment the hard drive of my mind. Random files, bits and pieces, delete, delete.

Then James and Kari started complaining about their homeschool packets. There were a bunch of worksheets about the state of Florida. That's a good state, right? The state beverage? Orange juice. State flower? Orange blossom.

James said he hates this workbook, but he has no time for trivia. He's not that kind of guy. I still think they're a bit useful in practicing how to find information. But whatever. We were sitting at at a campfire in Wisconsin, so they speculated that the state beverage is probably milk. James ventured the state bird might be the cow.

Tim thought that was hilarious. I agreed.

Anyway, now it's now and the day is over. Happy Sunday. love, Val


beautiful fall, and a boat full of acorns