Well, first things first, we managed to get to the ENT's office on time, which is, in and of itself, a miracle. The nice lady at the pediatrician's office either doesn't know us very well, or doesn't like us much, because she scheduled our appointment for 8:15 this morning! Ay, carumba, mijos! I can't get to the car by 8:15... let alone into town, with everyone in tow. But we did it.
The ENT's office was, as usual, superb. Their audiologist, Miss Tammy, is a dream to work with. She's just fantastic with children, and thorough. As a matter of fact, she's so thorough that I started to panic a bit. When I was doing hearing tests, we didn't do a bone conduction test or masking unless there was severe loss and/or tinnitus. She did one on James, and my heart sank into my toes, passing my stomach on its way to my throat. I got everything crammed into my tonsils long enough to ask if she normally does that, and she said she does, unless a patient has absolutely perfect hearing, in which case, there's no point.
And with both boys, it seems, their hearing issues are purely selective. Yes, we have two fully functional little space cadets. They can hear us, they just don't care. Um, yeah, we're good with that.
The boys were so good for all the testing and beeping and waiting, the staff decided to shove all six of us in a 7'x8' room with only two chairs (one on wheels) for forty minutes, with no outside contact, just to see which of us would lose his or her mind first. Smidge went, and he went with flair - shirt pulled up over his head, finger up his nose, ricocheting off hard surfaces, giggling maniacally. It was fascinating, really. Our suspicions about the experiment were confirmed when the doctor suddenly appeared just as Zorak attempted to sneak out of the cubicle with two of the little ones. *poof* And, it's time to begin! Evil researchers.
The boys did their lessons this afternoon, since they were lucky to get their vitamins on the way out the door this morning. John's learning tally marks, and loving it. He'd do all the pages in a lesson in one sitting, if I'd let him. (But really, he does require prolonged practice to help lodge a little something here and there in his long-term memory.) James is ready to move on, and has clicked that as soon as he has mastered his facts (he's got the skills and formulas down pat, and is quick w/ the facts, but if you watch his eyes, you can see he doesn't own them yet), the math world is his to explore. So he's working hard to finish those. It didn't help (me) any that he looked at my math work this afternoon and said, "Oh! I know these. You'll love them. They're easy." *groan* He meant to be encouraging, and although it's just. not. I will take it that way.
We've got a boiled cabbage simmering on the stove. Forgot to buy rubber bands, so we'll have to do that tomorrow. Then we will have some great "school shirts" - Story Of The World-inspired tie-dyed t-shirts, made with the Phoenicians in mind! (And only a month after we'd covered the Phoenicians - not bad!)
I broke down and bought modeling clay the other day. No clue what I was thinking, as I hate that stuff more than play-doh and waterpaints. Possibly even more than I hate unit studies, really. They're the work of the devil, and they bring out the lowest form of communication in children: screeching. Followed closely by wailing, gnashing of teeth, and general whining. And that's from both me and the kids! But I've got it, now! Next year, I will purchase thirty tons of natural brown clay. There will be no colors, there will be no options. There will be no cute individual boxes. It will live in a vat in the basement, and there will be a place for each child to keep his unspoiled creations covered in dust for untold centuries, or until his brothers forget about it. Ta-da! Why didn't I think of that earlier?
Busy day tomorrow. It's hard to look productive on a regular basis, but we're almost good at it. There are times I feel like the boys look at each other and smile, not because of all we're accomplishing, but because they seem to know I don't know what I'm doing, and they're okay with that. They love me, anyway. And I love them - for that, and for many, many other reasons - their goofy grins, their deeply felt senses of justice and reason, their delightful math-is-done-yay drawings, their hugs, their ambushes from beneath the laundry pile. I love them, screeching clay blobs and all.
Kiss those babies!
~Dy
6 comments:
Hooray for the results! That is wonderful news!
Is your modeling clay the waxy stuff? I sat on some of that once when I was little and my mom took it away forever because of the utter ruination of the pants I was wearing. I let my boys "make" clay (other wise known as mud), but then our soil is mostly clay any way, and they are able to make it into all kinds of little animals. If your dirt has a lot of iron in it you can use it to dye stuff, too.
I hope you will post photos of your shirts, that sounds like a project we will have to try.
LOL - I love your modeling clay solution!! Emma pulls hers out from time to time, and at first I had the absolute hardest time not nit-picking her to death as she played with it. She kept mushing all the colors together and my overly retentive self was twitching almost more than I could bear. I finally came to the conclusion that if she enjoys rainbow swirl dough that is slowly turning brown, I should just get out of her way and let her go for it. After all, I did buy it for her to play with, not for me to obsess over! *ahem* sorry, just had to get that off my chest I guess. :-)
I'm glad that everything turned out well at the ENT's office! That sounds like a great experiment they pulled on you, btw. *grin* I would have loved to be behind the one way mirror for that one.
Mere, oh yes, we have a lot of what I've heard is called "Georgia Red Clay" in lieu of dirt. The boys have dyed their khakis, their white t-shirts, most of their socks, and oddly enough, their undies. OxyClean does a fairly good job of getting it out, but not 100%. Ah, at least all their clothes have a coordinating color theme, right?
Amber, I'm laughing right now, because you sound like James. He just cringes as Smidge mixes and swirls all the colors together. He doesn't say anything, but you can see how badly he wants to.
I don't think the doc knew we were all there, b/c he opened the door and said, "OH! There's a whole family in here!" *chuckle* When we left, Smidge waved at the audiologist and said, "beep beep beep!" That may be what he's decided to call her, I'm not sure, but it was sweet.
Thanks for the good thoughts and prayers. We are relieved. :-)
Dy
The selective hearing thing is funny. I've got a nearly-five-year-old boy who just doesn't hear me when I speak. He can, he just doesn't. It is extrememly frustrating, but I guess it's a boy thing?
They've tried cramming us in those tiny rooms, too. I try to make their lives as miserable as they are making mine. I open the door ("for fresh air" if they ask) and let the kids ride that wheely chair into the hall and back, all the while sounding as if I'm trying to keep them under control and quiet. Sometimes a nurse will bring lollipops, and sometimes the doctor makes us a priority, but I refuse to suffer in silence!
Hooray about the ENT tests! Nothing gives a mommy the warm fuzzies like knowing that her kids are ignoring her deliberately and Could pay attention if they chose to do so!
Now you've given me another reason to want that brick house -- a basement. Of course, the one in that house has hideous, frightening crickets, but that could maybe be remedied (?) and then the kids could play with their beloved clay without driving Ed UP the Wall. Katie brought hers to bed last night.
EXCELLENT news! I'm so pleased to hear that all went well with the tests!!!!
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