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.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)