This last week, Valley View Elementary school celebrated "Rainbow Ribbon" week. I don't know why it's called "Rainbow" week, because the only two celebrated ribbon colors were red ("Say no to drugs"), and white ("Internet safety"). Red and white don't seem like much of a rainbow to me. I thought a nice green ribbon might at least be included, but I've recently discovered that green ribbons represent the movement to legalize cannabis. I guess that might be confusing to the kids, especially if they had just embraced red ribbons the day before.
Anyway, as part of Rainbow Week, the PTA held a big assembly on Friday which included guest speakers, fire trucks, and even a life-flight helicopter that landed on the playground. After school, Joey approached me with a big grin on his face. "Mom, guess what?" he asked with a giggle. "You had a helicopter land on the grass?" I said, thinking he'd be surprised that I already knew. Joey said, "Well, yeah, but that's not it. Guess what the name of the first speaker today was? MISS UTAH! Can you believe her name is Miss Utah? Who would name their kid Miss Utah?!" I couldn't stop laughing as I explained that "Miss Utah" was a title--not a name.
I love Joey so much! It's partly my explanation for why I haven't taken him to an endocrinologist yet, to follow-up on his last blood work results. I have such mixed feelings about dragging him up to Salt Lake for a battery of tests that may or may not reveal any significant problems. On the one hand, Joey struggles as it is to cope with all his allergies, asthma, and eczema. His self-esteem is already pretty low, since he considers himself to be inferior to all his peers who don't have to take medications and avoid certain foods and situations at all times. I don't know if his self-image can handle another blow. And he has a serious phobia about needles and tests, so I really have to be sure that he needs them if I'm going to inflict them upon him. On the other hand, if there is something wrong that, if treated, could help him gain some weight and feel more physically attractive, then I should find out what it is. I'm in limbo--trying to weigh the chances that something is wrong with him against the possibility that he's just a scrawny kid who needs more time to grow up.
Izzy made a big decision last week: she quit ballet. I'm surprised, but only a little. The truth is, she has wanted to quit for years. I pushed her to stick with it, hoping that once she moved onto pointe, she'd embrace the art and want to go as far as she could with it. But she's been en pointe for a year now, and still she has tantrumed and cried before every rehearsal, complaining that she doesn't want to go and hates ballet. I finally decided that if ballet isn't her passion, it's time to let her choose another path. She is still dancing jazz, which she loves, but she wants to get involved in drama and take viola lessons. I know that she loves those things, and if I'm paying for her to develop talents, they may as well be talents that she'll use for the rest of her life. After all, as much as I love watching her dance, I don't see her pursuing a dance career. On the other hand, she can play the viola in church and at community events, and act throughout her whole life.
As for Zach, he's pursuing a talent of his own: drums. The problem is, he wants a new drum set for his birthday in November and can't understand why we think $750 is just too much for a birthday present. Seriously, this is hard to understand? We are going to start him up with some drum lessons (the band teacher at the junior high teaches private percussion), and he can practice on the drum sets at school if he's willing to stay after school (he promises that he will). He's been assigned the drum set part on a percussion piece that the band is playing this year, and he loves it. So we want to give him every opportunity to develop his talents. But I'm having trouble stomaching the drum set investment. How do parents do this?
Ben had an amazingly great week--he earned every single possible sticker that he could on his "good behavior" chart. And he said a few funny things, as usual... you can read his updates on the blog I've dedicated to him: http://adventureswithautism.blogspot.com/.
The snow threatened to fall this week, too. One day it was 90 degrees, and the next day the temperature plummeted into the 30s and snow fell on the mountains above us. I guess it's just been a strange, crazy, rainbow-ribbon kind of week. I wonder what comes next?
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Curioser and Curioser
Thoroughly ensconced in Wonderland, Alice took a sip from a small vial and suddenly began to stretch tall like a telescope. This new and uncertain experience made her "curiouser and curiouser" to see what might happen next.
The Tolen family is increasingly curiouser ourselves these days. Much is happening, and much has yet to happen. For example, Ben finally has an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) in place at school and is starting to get some of the services and help that he needs. You can read about that on the blog I have dedicated to Ben's progress: (http://adventureswithautism.blogspot.com).
Joey went in for a checkup, and while we were there I said to the doctor, "Is there any chance Joey might have diabetes?" I got this notion from an article that my sister read about (of all things) the Jonas Brothers, one of whom was diagnosed with diabetes after a friend pointed out how skinny he was and a doctor looked a little closer at what might be going on. So our doctor, who agrees that Joey, age 9 and weighing in at a whopping 44 pounds, is pretty skeletal, suggested we do a little blood work and see if anything happened to come up. On Friday I got a call from his office saying that most of Joey's blood work was normal, except that his serum calcium is a bit high, as are the protein levels in his blood. Not sky-rocket high (in fact, the calcium level is only .4 above normal and just below the mildest diagnosis of hypercalcemia--same with the protein), but given Joey's seeming inability to gain any weight, the doctor wants us to see a pediatric endocrinologist at Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake, "just to be safe." I'm a little freaked out, partly because I know that when Joey finds out that he needs to go see another doctor who is likely going to take more blood from him (the last blood draw was a seriously traumatic event), he's going to pitch a fit, and also because that child has had to deal with serious allergies, asthma, and eczema all his life. If he now is told that something else is wrong with him, he's going to fall apart.
Izzy summoned all her courage yesterday and auditioned for the Ballet West production of the Nutcracker in Salt Lake City. She was cast as a soldier based on her height (I didn't realize that every single role in the traditional production is based on the dancers' heights!). She was at first quite disappointed that she wasn't called back for the lead role of Clara, but when I helped her see that nearly all the callbacks were for girls who dance at the Ballet West Academy (and every year the role is played by an Academy dancer), and then reminded her that if her own dance studio were putting on the show and they cast an "outsider" as the lead role, we'd all be pretty upset, she relaxed and was able to celebrate her success at just getting into a highly competitive production. I'm equally happy for her...though I have to selfishly admit that if she hadn't been cast, I wouldn't have missed the regular 40-minute treks that we're about to start making up to Salt Lake starting this week for rehearsals. What a great experience this will be for her, though, to work with a professional ballet company on a professional show.
Zach is sure that he broke his wrist last week. The wrist that he can still drum with, skateboard with, write with, type on the computer with... He wiped out while longboarding with his pals, and landed hard on his hand. It isn't swollen, misshapen, or discolored, and he has nearly all range of motion except that when he flexes too hard it hurts. I contend that he's merely sprained it, and mildly at that. He thinks I'm being a horrible mom by not taking him in for x-rays. Maybe I am. Maybe tomorrow I need to take him to the doctor and just ease his worries by getting an x-ray. And maybe I'll find out that I've been wrong all along! I think doctors are largely overrated, and so personally, I don't go unless I'm certain that death is imminent. But I do try to take my kids in when they need it...OK fine. If he's still experiencing pain tomorrow, I'll take him in. At least he'll know for sure what's the matter, and I can get away from the "bad mother" condemnations!
So, as you can see, it's curiouser and curiouser for us. How will Ben continue to do in dealing with his Autism? What will the endocrinologist tell us about Joey? Is Izzy going to enjoy the long rehearsals for the Ballet West production? And has Zach really broken his wrist? Tune in to Wonderland central next week for updates.
The Tolen family is increasingly curiouser ourselves these days. Much is happening, and much has yet to happen. For example, Ben finally has an IEP (Individualized Education Plan) in place at school and is starting to get some of the services and help that he needs. You can read about that on the blog I have dedicated to Ben's progress: (http://adventureswithautism.blogspot.com).
Joey went in for a checkup, and while we were there I said to the doctor, "Is there any chance Joey might have diabetes?" I got this notion from an article that my sister read about (of all things) the Jonas Brothers, one of whom was diagnosed with diabetes after a friend pointed out how skinny he was and a doctor looked a little closer at what might be going on. So our doctor, who agrees that Joey, age 9 and weighing in at a whopping 44 pounds, is pretty skeletal, suggested we do a little blood work and see if anything happened to come up. On Friday I got a call from his office saying that most of Joey's blood work was normal, except that his serum calcium is a bit high, as are the protein levels in his blood. Not sky-rocket high (in fact, the calcium level is only .4 above normal and just below the mildest diagnosis of hypercalcemia--same with the protein), but given Joey's seeming inability to gain any weight, the doctor wants us to see a pediatric endocrinologist at Primary Children's Hospital in Salt Lake, "just to be safe." I'm a little freaked out, partly because I know that when Joey finds out that he needs to go see another doctor who is likely going to take more blood from him (the last blood draw was a seriously traumatic event), he's going to pitch a fit, and also because that child has had to deal with serious allergies, asthma, and eczema all his life. If he now is told that something else is wrong with him, he's going to fall apart.
Izzy summoned all her courage yesterday and auditioned for the Ballet West production of the Nutcracker in Salt Lake City. She was cast as a soldier based on her height (I didn't realize that every single role in the traditional production is based on the dancers' heights!). She was at first quite disappointed that she wasn't called back for the lead role of Clara, but when I helped her see that nearly all the callbacks were for girls who dance at the Ballet West Academy (and every year the role is played by an Academy dancer), and then reminded her that if her own dance studio were putting on the show and they cast an "outsider" as the lead role, we'd all be pretty upset, she relaxed and was able to celebrate her success at just getting into a highly competitive production. I'm equally happy for her...though I have to selfishly admit that if she hadn't been cast, I wouldn't have missed the regular 40-minute treks that we're about to start making up to Salt Lake starting this week for rehearsals. What a great experience this will be for her, though, to work with a professional ballet company on a professional show.
Zach is sure that he broke his wrist last week. The wrist that he can still drum with, skateboard with, write with, type on the computer with... He wiped out while longboarding with his pals, and landed hard on his hand. It isn't swollen, misshapen, or discolored, and he has nearly all range of motion except that when he flexes too hard it hurts. I contend that he's merely sprained it, and mildly at that. He thinks I'm being a horrible mom by not taking him in for x-rays. Maybe I am. Maybe tomorrow I need to take him to the doctor and just ease his worries by getting an x-ray. And maybe I'll find out that I've been wrong all along! I think doctors are largely overrated, and so personally, I don't go unless I'm certain that death is imminent. But I do try to take my kids in when they need it...OK fine. If he's still experiencing pain tomorrow, I'll take him in. At least he'll know for sure what's the matter, and I can get away from the "bad mother" condemnations!
So, as you can see, it's curiouser and curiouser for us. How will Ben continue to do in dealing with his Autism? What will the endocrinologist tell us about Joey? Is Izzy going to enjoy the long rehearsals for the Ballet West production? And has Zach really broken his wrist? Tune in to Wonderland central next week for updates.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Junior High Bus Drama
Suddenly I remember how much I hated junior high school. Such a petty, self-absorbed, cliquey time of life--someone once said that in the perfect world, we would move straight from kindergarten into college. AMEN.
Izzy came home earlier this week and said that her friend had been knocked to the floor of the bus by a 9th grader who was determined to get to the back seat. I doubt the friend was actually knocked to the floor; junior high students are superbly dramatic. But any contact is too much; any threatening or name-calling is inappropriate. So I made what I thought was a relatively innocuous and general post on Facebook that 9th graders had better not be bullying other kids on the bus over a seat, or else I'd start calling their moms. Doesn't that seem like an acceptable response? I thought so. But I was wrong, because I'm not the parent of a 9th grader, so I don't understand that tradition supersedes human kindness.
The parent of a 9th grader quickly responded to my post and informed me that although bullying is not OK, it is nevertheless tradition that 9th graders sit in the back. I guess at all costs, that's a tradition that should be preserved. The conversation escalated and a few others joined in. And ultimately, although it wasn't explicitly said, it was clearly indicated by the 9th grade parent that the only way to avoid bullying is to make sure that 7th and 8th graders don't even try to occupy the sacred back-row space. After all, the 9th graders were bullied, too when they were younger, and they've waited a long time to claim their rightful place. 7th and 8th graders should expect no less grief, and no more privilege. (Editorial note: In fairness, this parent really doesn't condone bullying. I think she was having trouble supporting me on this one because of some historical resentments that she harbors toward Izzy following a conflict between Izzy and her son last year. She probably felt a little vindicated to learn that Izzy had been bullied a bit. I might have too in her position...Izzy was the bully-er last year instead of the bully-ee. Not that any bullying is ok--then OR now, but...)
In order to try to keep some kind of peace with said parent and to disengage from the already over-inflated level of conflict that arose, I urged Izzy to stay as far away from the back row as possible. Just stand, Rosa Parks. The seats are saved for the white people, and we don't want to be causing any unnecessary trouble. This isn't the civil rights movement, and no one is about to applaud rebellion against the tradition (NO--I didn't say any of that to Izzy). But Izzy is a 7th grader. Which means she's stubborn and not great at seeing the big picture. So I shouldn't have been so surprised when she sent me a text this afternoon saying, "Me and Morgan were the first people on the bus so we're sitting in the back row!" What victory did she think she had won? And why was she surprised that the venerable 9th graders spent the bus ride home calling her a "douche-bag," a "geek," a "loser," etc. Verbal abuse can only be expected since she broke the sacred code. Right?
A mature person would have sat in the middle of the bus simply to avoid the conflict. A mature person would have let a 7th grader sit in the back without getting all upset about rights and traditions. A mature person would have realized that life is crappy enough without cluttering it with the most stupid battle ever waged. But these aren't mature people. They are junior high students. And the sooner they stop being junior high students, the better.
Izzy came home earlier this week and said that her friend had been knocked to the floor of the bus by a 9th grader who was determined to get to the back seat. I doubt the friend was actually knocked to the floor; junior high students are superbly dramatic. But any contact is too much; any threatening or name-calling is inappropriate. So I made what I thought was a relatively innocuous and general post on Facebook that 9th graders had better not be bullying other kids on the bus over a seat, or else I'd start calling their moms. Doesn't that seem like an acceptable response? I thought so. But I was wrong, because I'm not the parent of a 9th grader, so I don't understand that tradition supersedes human kindness.
The parent of a 9th grader quickly responded to my post and informed me that although bullying is not OK, it is nevertheless tradition that 9th graders sit in the back. I guess at all costs, that's a tradition that should be preserved. The conversation escalated and a few others joined in. And ultimately, although it wasn't explicitly said, it was clearly indicated by the 9th grade parent that the only way to avoid bullying is to make sure that 7th and 8th graders don't even try to occupy the sacred back-row space. After all, the 9th graders were bullied, too when they were younger, and they've waited a long time to claim their rightful place. 7th and 8th graders should expect no less grief, and no more privilege. (Editorial note: In fairness, this parent really doesn't condone bullying. I think she was having trouble supporting me on this one because of some historical resentments that she harbors toward Izzy following a conflict between Izzy and her son last year. She probably felt a little vindicated to learn that Izzy had been bullied a bit. I might have too in her position...Izzy was the bully-er last year instead of the bully-ee. Not that any bullying is ok--then OR now, but...)
In order to try to keep some kind of peace with said parent and to disengage from the already over-inflated level of conflict that arose, I urged Izzy to stay as far away from the back row as possible. Just stand, Rosa Parks. The seats are saved for the white people, and we don't want to be causing any unnecessary trouble. This isn't the civil rights movement, and no one is about to applaud rebellion against the tradition (NO--I didn't say any of that to Izzy). But Izzy is a 7th grader. Which means she's stubborn and not great at seeing the big picture. So I shouldn't have been so surprised when she sent me a text this afternoon saying, "Me and Morgan were the first people on the bus so we're sitting in the back row!" What victory did she think she had won? And why was she surprised that the venerable 9th graders spent the bus ride home calling her a "douche-bag," a "geek," a "loser," etc. Verbal abuse can only be expected since she broke the sacred code. Right?
A mature person would have sat in the middle of the bus simply to avoid the conflict. A mature person would have let a 7th grader sit in the back without getting all upset about rights and traditions. A mature person would have realized that life is crappy enough without cluttering it with the most stupid battle ever waged. But these aren't mature people. They are junior high students. And the sooner they stop being junior high students, the better.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Sunrise, Sunset
Anyone else like "Fiddler on the Roof"? I got to play the role of Hodel in a production of the show in Valencia (CA--not Spain!) several years ago. One of my favorite songs is "Sunrise, Sunset." It's almost haunting in its repetitive cadence, rising and falling, beginning and ending and beginning again--and it sounds exactly like raising a family feels.
School has started again. The kids are less than exuberant, though Izzy has cheerfully embraced her first few days as a junior high student. I think she really likes the greater sense of autonomy and responsibility that secondary school offers. She was advanced past pre-Algebra and placed straight into Algebra 1 with the 8th grade students, and I think she feels pretty good about that. Except for the 11:00 p.m. text that appeared on my phone a couple nights ago which read, "I'm going to fail Algebra!" I called her downstairs and she appeared, in tears, with a pre-Algebra worksheet in hand that she had been trying to review so that she'd be ready for her class the next day. We went over a few rules for solving linear equations, graphing, working with decimals and fractions, and then she sighed a breath of relief and went to bed. She's going to be just fine--she just doesn't know it yet.
Joey thumped into the car after his second day of school, slammed the car door, and announced that his teacher is "really mean." What? I asked him to tell me why he thought so, and he described a couple times during the day when he had been "asking" her a question and she had "yelled" at him. [Editorial note: "yelling" to Joey means any tone of voice that is raised slightly above the volume of a gentle lilt.] I reminded him that on the second day of school last year, he had told me exactly the same thing about his 3rd grade teacher--the one he wept inconsolably about when 3rd grade came to an end and he just couldn't stand the thought of not being in her class anymore. We discussed timing and context, and Joey slowly came to understand that maybe he just needs to learn the new system. He also mentioned several incidences during the day when his teacher had been extremely nice to him--going the extra mile to make sure a class treat was safe for him given his peanut allergy, and assuring him that everything was OK when he accidentally spilled some juice on a paper they were filling out in class. Joey's a sensitive soul and this year will be as great for him as last year was. Sunrise, sunset.
I can't weigh in yet on Zach's upcoming year. He's less enthusiastic this year than he was last year, and his only response to the "How was school today?" query was, "OK." I think I got a "fine" out of him one day, too. So, we'll see. And if you're following Ben's separate blog (http://adventureswithautism.blogspot.com/) you already know that Ben's second day wasn't too great. But we're trying a few new things starting tomorrow; I'll update his blog in a day or two.
I also will start teaching at UVU on Thursday. The course curriculum is much like what I taught at BYU; still, I'm a little nervous to start over again. Chris didn't get the promotion at work, but his transition care company, Redwood Grove, seems to be picking up a little bit. As it's done before. Rise and fall, begin and end and begin again...
School has started again. The kids are less than exuberant, though Izzy has cheerfully embraced her first few days as a junior high student. I think she really likes the greater sense of autonomy and responsibility that secondary school offers. She was advanced past pre-Algebra and placed straight into Algebra 1 with the 8th grade students, and I think she feels pretty good about that. Except for the 11:00 p.m. text that appeared on my phone a couple nights ago which read, "I'm going to fail Algebra!" I called her downstairs and she appeared, in tears, with a pre-Algebra worksheet in hand that she had been trying to review so that she'd be ready for her class the next day. We went over a few rules for solving linear equations, graphing, working with decimals and fractions, and then she sighed a breath of relief and went to bed. She's going to be just fine--she just doesn't know it yet.
Joey thumped into the car after his second day of school, slammed the car door, and announced that his teacher is "really mean." What? I asked him to tell me why he thought so, and he described a couple times during the day when he had been "asking" her a question and she had "yelled" at him. [Editorial note: "yelling" to Joey means any tone of voice that is raised slightly above the volume of a gentle lilt.] I reminded him that on the second day of school last year, he had told me exactly the same thing about his 3rd grade teacher--the one he wept inconsolably about when 3rd grade came to an end and he just couldn't stand the thought of not being in her class anymore. We discussed timing and context, and Joey slowly came to understand that maybe he just needs to learn the new system. He also mentioned several incidences during the day when his teacher had been extremely nice to him--going the extra mile to make sure a class treat was safe for him given his peanut allergy, and assuring him that everything was OK when he accidentally spilled some juice on a paper they were filling out in class. Joey's a sensitive soul and this year will be as great for him as last year was. Sunrise, sunset.
I can't weigh in yet on Zach's upcoming year. He's less enthusiastic this year than he was last year, and his only response to the "How was school today?" query was, "OK." I think I got a "fine" out of him one day, too. So, we'll see. And if you're following Ben's separate blog (http://adventureswithautism.blogspot.com/) you already know that Ben's second day wasn't too great. But we're trying a few new things starting tomorrow; I'll update his blog in a day or two.
I also will start teaching at UVU on Thursday. The course curriculum is much like what I taught at BYU; still, I'm a little nervous to start over again. Chris didn't get the promotion at work, but his transition care company, Redwood Grove, seems to be picking up a little bit. As it's done before. Rise and fall, begin and end and begin again...
Monday, August 17, 2009
A Starting Place
Well, I have set up a separate blog to document our experiences with Ben; you can follow that blog at http://adventureswithautism.blogspot.com. But the rest of the kids matter, too--they're very insistent about this--and so I needed to create a forum where I could equally celebrate their successes and individuality. That's what this blog will be all about.
So here's a quick rundown of our current statuses. Er...statii. How about...statum? Moosen in the woodsenises...(that's a Brian Regan joke; if you don't follow him, you should start):
Ben: Recently diagnosed with Autism and starting 1st grade in three days. Ben's favorite t.v. show is "How It's Made" on the science channel--we tape this regularly and he watches every episode. Ben loves to visit Lori next door and get cookies and brownies from her; surprisingly, she always has some! Lori puts my domestic skills to shame. Ben recently greeted two complete strangers by plunging his fingers into their stomachs and giggling, "Tickle, tickle, tickle!" One stranger was the guy changing the oil on the car; the other was a teenager who had come to the door selling "Viking" cards as a football team fundraiser. Neither quite knew what to do about this unexpected invasion of their physical space; Chris (to the the oil guy) and I (to the teenager) just issued the customary apology and pulled Ben away. He's a funny, funny kid. Follow Ben's school progress on the other blog.
Joey: Moving into 4th grade, and madly in love with "Peach." Peach (not her real name, but it's what everyone calls her) has fluttered his tender little heart since the first grade. Joey was desperately disappointed to discover that yet again, Peach was placed in a different class from his. But we have assured him that he will still see her at recess, lunch, assemblies--really, whenever she doesn't run away from him, which reflects the current status of their relationship. Joey played baseball this summer and hopes to never do it again (but he will). He continues to pursue his obsession with the Titanic, having recently grilled Grandma Morrill about the status of the custom Titanic quilt she is making for him, and watched the movie "Into the Abyss"--a documentary taking us deep into the Titanic wreckage at the bottom of the sea.
Izzy: Is about to embark on her Junior High journey. She is the secretary in the Beehive class at church, and is learning to play the viola in the Junior High orchestra. She moved up into Ballet 4 with Pointe, and into the second level performance company at Wasatch Ballet conservatory. She is experiencing all the wonderful, amazing, beautiful (code: INSANE) changes associated with adolescence, but for all the moods and emotion, she's an awesome sister to her three brothers and helps out a lot--especially with Ben, who can be difficult and who requires a lot of attention.
Zach: Can I really have an 8th grader?? Zach moves into the Advanced Percussion group at the junior high this year. Seriously, how do you move those drum sticks that fast? He's a member of the PALs (Peer Advisory Leadership) team at the junior high, which so far has meant that he has a really cool t-shirt and hoodie with his name embroidered on them, and he has given about a zillion tours of the school to incoming 7th graders. Zach is taking musical theater, sculpting, and metalworking this year, which tells me that he loves to create and express himself through the arts--my kind of kid!
Chris and Heather: Chris is working at the State Hospital as a psychologist, though he's interviewing today for a position as the director of psychology there. I don't know if that would be a good thing, or not...hm... I have been hired by Utah Valley University to teach English Composition part-time; I'll start at the end of August. If anything exciting or interesting happens, I'll blog it later.
It occurs to me that this post reads like the Christmas letter we haven't done for several years. Future posts will likely be less comprehensive. But it seemed important to create a "jumping off" point. There you have it!
So here's a quick rundown of our current statuses. Er...statii. How about...statum? Moosen in the woodsenises...(that's a Brian Regan joke; if you don't follow him, you should start):
Ben: Recently diagnosed with Autism and starting 1st grade in three days. Ben's favorite t.v. show is "How It's Made" on the science channel--we tape this regularly and he watches every episode. Ben loves to visit Lori next door and get cookies and brownies from her; surprisingly, she always has some! Lori puts my domestic skills to shame. Ben recently greeted two complete strangers by plunging his fingers into their stomachs and giggling, "Tickle, tickle, tickle!" One stranger was the guy changing the oil on the car; the other was a teenager who had come to the door selling "Viking" cards as a football team fundraiser. Neither quite knew what to do about this unexpected invasion of their physical space; Chris (to the the oil guy) and I (to the teenager) just issued the customary apology and pulled Ben away. He's a funny, funny kid. Follow Ben's school progress on the other blog.
Joey: Moving into 4th grade, and madly in love with "Peach." Peach (not her real name, but it's what everyone calls her) has fluttered his tender little heart since the first grade. Joey was desperately disappointed to discover that yet again, Peach was placed in a different class from his. But we have assured him that he will still see her at recess, lunch, assemblies--really, whenever she doesn't run away from him, which reflects the current status of their relationship. Joey played baseball this summer and hopes to never do it again (but he will). He continues to pursue his obsession with the Titanic, having recently grilled Grandma Morrill about the status of the custom Titanic quilt she is making for him, and watched the movie "Into the Abyss"--a documentary taking us deep into the Titanic wreckage at the bottom of the sea.
Izzy: Is about to embark on her Junior High journey. She is the secretary in the Beehive class at church, and is learning to play the viola in the Junior High orchestra. She moved up into Ballet 4 with Pointe, and into the second level performance company at Wasatch Ballet conservatory. She is experiencing all the wonderful, amazing, beautiful (code: INSANE) changes associated with adolescence, but for all the moods and emotion, she's an awesome sister to her three brothers and helps out a lot--especially with Ben, who can be difficult and who requires a lot of attention.
Zach: Can I really have an 8th grader?? Zach moves into the Advanced Percussion group at the junior high this year. Seriously, how do you move those drum sticks that fast? He's a member of the PALs (Peer Advisory Leadership) team at the junior high, which so far has meant that he has a really cool t-shirt and hoodie with his name embroidered on them, and he has given about a zillion tours of the school to incoming 7th graders. Zach is taking musical theater, sculpting, and metalworking this year, which tells me that he loves to create and express himself through the arts--my kind of kid!
Chris and Heather: Chris is working at the State Hospital as a psychologist, though he's interviewing today for a position as the director of psychology there. I don't know if that would be a good thing, or not...hm... I have been hired by Utah Valley University to teach English Composition part-time; I'll start at the end of August. If anything exciting or interesting happens, I'll blog it later.
It occurs to me that this post reads like the Christmas letter we haven't done for several years. Future posts will likely be less comprehensive. But it seemed important to create a "jumping off" point. There you have it!
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