Family

The First Visit Home from College

By / October 5, 2013

We watched the calendar, all of us, for the day when Kiki would come home to visit. We watched the clock on the day she was coming so that everything would be prepared, sheets washed, room decorated. We watched the driveway at the time she was due to catch sight of her as soon as possible.

Then she was here. Then there were hugs. We laughed. We had an evening full of being together, watching a show, playing video games. She snuggled her kitty, laughed with her siblings. I looked on them from upstairs and once again I was counting to four instead of just three. It was wonderful. Life was normal and right.

Except, we had to figure out where to put her suitcase and how to set her up for sleeping. We had to move Gleek back up to the top bunk. We had to return to the careful dance of getting Gleek to go to sleep first to dodge the frequent bedtime grouchiness. We needed to remember how many pizzas to cook with an extra person in the house. Having Kiki here made us all see the ways that the patterns of our lives have shifted in a dozen subtle ways. We are so glad she’s here. All of us have drifted to be near her just because we can. Yet her being here is no longer part of the regular rounds of our lives.

This morning Kiki was tired. She doesn’t sleep well in unfamiliar beds, and the bed that used to be hers has become unfamiliar. The dorm is sort of home and our house is sort of home. Kiki has made the discovery that though there will always be a place for her in our house, it is not the same place that she used to have. She doesn’t get to go back, just forward.

Kiki and I sat this morning and talked about how best to make space for her when she comes home. This time we made space for her in the room that she and Gleek used to share. But Kiki and I looked and knew, she does not fit in that room anymore. Kiki is grown up and needs a grown up space. On her next visit we’ll put her on the fold-out bed in my office. Perhaps that will be better.

This evening I dropped Kiki at the home of one of her college friends. They have an event this evening. It is the reason they came up from college. This friend has her own room and it is still exactly as she left it. The comparison was striking. Kiki packed up all her things when leaving our house. This friend always has a familiar space to return to. Kiki is propelled toward her future, this friend has a measure of security that isn’t available to Kiki with the way that we have done things. I don’t know that one way is better than the other, just reflective of different families and requirements. Some day Kiki will own a space that she can make exactly as she would like.

We have one more day with Kiki here. Next weekend we’ll go and visit her. This will let the other kids see the school, see her dorm, meet the friends that Kiki has found. It will be a different view on this new stage of life that we have entered. All of us are figuring out how this needs to go.

At the End of the Picnic

By / October 1, 2013

We were at an evening picnic on a school night. It was a happy reunion with long time family friends whom we’ve not seen for quite awhile. The weather was lovely, the canyon scenery was stunning, food was consumed, and the kids had run around for hours. Howard and I began to gather our things when one of our friends said
“Leaving already?”
Most everyone else was still settled in for visiting.
“We’ve got to go. The kids have homework” I answered.
The friend waved a hand as if to wipe out the work to be done “Just let it go. they’re smart college-bound kids. It won’t hurt to let it slide for one day.”
I paused for a fraction of a second before answering, because I could see her point. Life should be arranged so that sometimes the work can bend around the fun. However I knew my kids and my family. We needed to get home. Also I had to process the implication that we were high-stress college-focused people. Yes my kids needed to focus on homework, but not because of years-off college. We needed to return to our regular routine because it was the best way to make sure the rest of the evening and the next day were good. Patch would quite happily ignore homework and play all night. But then he would turn into a quivering bundle of stress when he arrived at school with the work not done. All three kids needed to bathe. They also needed time to wind down lest bedtime be made out of arguments.

In that fraction-of-a-second pause I realized that I have high intensity kids who get wound up and anxious about things. My friend’s kids and grandkids are generally easy going. I also knew that if I sat down and explained all of this, she would understand because she is a smart and kind lady. She was just having fun with everyone gathered together and didn’t want it to be over quite yet. I agreed with her. The gathering was really fun, but my family needed to leave while fun was still being had, because the alternative was to leave because someone had a meltdown. I smiled and said “We really do need to get home, but we should do this again soon.”

Hugs were shared and we went home.

Saturday

By / September 28, 2013 / 2 Comments

Kiki was having trouble with her computer and I was helping her sort it out using a mixture of phone, video, and text communication. Howard knew she was having trouble and said he was ready to jump in his car and go help her. The moment Kiki heard that, she made the biggest puppy-dog hopeful eyes I’ve ever seen. So, even though we resolved the computer trouble, Howard drove three hours to go see her anyway. They’ll visit, go out for dinner, and then he’ll drive back. Ratio of driving to visiting 2:1. Sometimes it is important not to do the sensible thing.

This morning I drove Link to go meet people at the local Pokemon league, because Link wants friends who care about Pokemon games as much as he does. As first visits go, I think it was a success, though I’m not sure Link sees it that way. It is hard for him that everyone else seems to have better decks or better trained Pokemon than he does. I think he’ll give things another try though.

Gleek has discovered distopian YA. She was enthralled with Scott Westerfield’s series Uglies, Pretties, and Specials. Next I’m going to hand her books by the Wells brothers: Variant, Feedback, Partials, and Fragments. She’s also discovered blue eyeshadow. Since she is also a queen of finding weird internet tutorials (she’s found everything from How to See Auras to How to Make Mermaid Tails), I’ll perhaps mention that eyeshadow tutorials exist.

My day vanished somehow, swallowed by helping kids with chores, helping kids with homework, driving kids places, picking up library books for kids, helping kids with computers, feeding kids, and then attending a church meeting. If only I’d managed to rake the cut grass off of the front lawn, I would be satisfied with my day. It was what it needed to be.

How Kiki is Doing at College, and How We’re Handling Her Being Gone

By / September 25, 2013

“You don’t write about me as much anymore” Lamented Kiki via twitter on an evening when she was feeling a bit homesick and had read through my blog entries. She’s right, I haven’t been writing about Kiki’s college adjustments or our adjustments here at home. I’m still trying to find my balance with this parenting an adult thing. I’m once again having to ask myself which stories are mine to tell and which just belong to Kiki.

The other truth is that we’ve reached a point where having her gone feels normal. Humans are highly adaptable and one month into having her gone, my mother radar has learned not to try to look for her in the house. Instead it expects to keep tabs on her via twitter, email, and Skype. Things that feel normal don’t generally make for interesting blog entries. Except in the midst of the “normal” there are little evidences that life is different from all the years that went before. Gleek has taken to sleeping in the bed that used to be Kiki’s. Part of that is convenience, it is the lower bunk. Some of it may have to do with the softer mattress. I think most of it is because it lets Gleek feel closer to Kiki. This morning Patch asked me to show him how to send an email, because he forgot how and wants to send one to Kiki. He wants to hear back from her. A major theme in Link’s emotional dramas over homework was how much he misses Kiki. Adapting to being the oldest kid in the house is not easy for him. All of us pay attention to the calendar, noticing how long until she’ll come home for a visit. So when I say we’ve adapted and life feels normal, part of what feels normal is missing Kiki. Every day, in a dozen small ways.

Any time Kiki calls us via Skype, everyone flocks to the room the minute they hear her voice. They don’t always know what to say, so they sit there smiling at Kiki, just wanting to be close by. Mostly the younger kids end up listening to Kiki’s college adventures for awhile before they wander off. Howard will sometimes take my laptop and talk to her for awhile. Not having her here in the house means that we all have to learn new ways of relating and connecting. The kids need to learn to save up and remember the things they want to tell her, so that they have something to say when there is a chance.

Every week at church someone will ask me how Kiki is doing. It is always a different person, though we’re starting to see repeats. They honestly wish her well and are glad to hear that college is going well. Because it is. Kiki has down days. She has homesick days. But, as far as I know, most of her days are good. She’s got paying work as an illustrator. She has classes that interest her. She has friends who let her hang out in their room almost 24/7. There are frustrations and stresses, but they are outweighed by the good things. I know a dozen stories to tell about financial learning experiences, dragon marathons, costume plans, and stray cats, but I’m not sure which stories she wouldn’t mind having told and which would make her feel exposed. And then there is the fact that it has only been the past week when my bloggy story-telling brain has switched back on. For weeks on end I was skipping blogging or only reporting the days events. It feels very different internally when my brain takes the days events and crafts it into an interesting story. With that part of me reviving, perhaps I’ll tell more of Kiki’s stories.

So there you go Kiki. Just because you’re not taking up space in the house (nor much on the blog lately, which has been quite Link-centric for the last bit) doesn’t mean you’re forgotten. Far from it.

Giving Kids Tools to Succeed Before Allowing Them to Fail

By / September 20, 2013 / 6 Comments

“Don’t be afraid to let your kid face the consequences of bad decisions. You have to let him fail so he can learn he wants to succeed.”

The advice was given to me in a semi-private forum where I’d complained out loud about the epic four-hour-long homework session with Link last Sunday. I wanted to answer back that they’d misunderstood the dilemma, that my son was not being defiant, but every answer I could compose sounded like I was self-defensively missing their point or would require so much background information that I would bore everyone.

Yes parents need to let kids fail, but before they allow it they first have to make sure that the kid actually has the tools to succeed. In this case, Link does not. In theory he ought to. By 10th grade kids should have already learned how to track homework and have a basic comprehension that work must be completed before it is due. Link does not. His entire educational experience has been about adjusting, recalibrating assignments, and letting him make up work he misunderstood or did not finish. Those adjustments were necessary at the time, but now is the time to learn different skills. He needs to learn to turn in all of his assignments on time, that if an assignment needs accommodation that must be agreed upon in advance. He needs to learn to read every paper handed to him and to not wait for adults to explain what he should do. He needs to learn to figure out what he doesn’t understand in class and then ask questions about it.

Truth be told, his current teachers would let him continue as he has been. It says right there on his IEP that he’s allowed extra time on assignments. They would accept late work and not dock it down points. They would be kind and explain. They would lighten the work load when Link seemed overwhelmed. There was a time where that willingness was a saving grace for us. Now it is not what Link needs for his long term growth. What he needs is for me to sit next to him, for four hours, not moving until the journal entry is written, because it is due the next day. Link sat next to me, wanting to do the assignment, wanting to please me, yet wrestling with himself because part of his brain was resisting the work with all of its might. So right now I’m heavily involved in tracking Link’s work and making him do it. Once he is in the habit of doing all assignments on time, once he realizes that is a thing it is possible to do, then I will step back and let him succeed or fail at it under his own power. Link needs to learn that he is strong enough to do hard things, because all of his life people have been adapting for him and that has made him believe himself weak.

I find it interesting that I got similarly hands-on with Kiki at this point in her Sophomore year as well. By January of that year I stepped back and let her handle things again. Already I can see improvement in how Link is doing. The battles Link is having with himself are smaller and more easily won. Most importantly, I can feel that this path is right, so we’ll keep walking.

Mid Term Conferences

By / September 19, 2013

I left parent teacher conferences with no action items. Eight teachers smiled at me, told me that Gleek is a wonderful student, and couldn’t think of a thing she could be doing better. Considering how all-consuming Gleek care was last spring, I feel thrown off balance a bit. I want to go back to all the teachers and say “are you sure?” except then they would look at me strangely. Except their observations match mine. Gleek is happy. She’s getting her work done. I’d like to see her interact with friends more often, but there are hints that some of that is developing. Things will get hard again. Gleek has lots to learn, but maybe I can stop bracing and let go a little.

In contrast, Link’s parent teacher conferences left me with a long list of support items. We’ve got a learning curve to hike. He’s going to have to get used to homework almost every night. He’s got three or four times the amount of writing work than he has ever had before. This is when we have to slog through the difficult to give him the practice he needs so that these things can become easier. In the next three years we need to transition to him managing all of these things without my intervention. Yet I feel hopeful that we’re getting this under control. We’re figuring out the types of assignments and after this we’re going to be able to work ahead so that we don’t end up with some nights piled high with homework.

Funny how one child is sailing clear and I’m certain hard is coming, while the other is in the midst of hard and I feel confident it will soon get easier. My brain is weird.

Loose Thoughts from Today and Yesterday

By / September 18, 2013 / 3 Comments

We had lunch with some friends whose Kickstarter has just funded. They spoke to us about the things they are considering as options for fulfillment. I listened and strongly advised them to contract out the fulfillment. Their time is better spent making another creative thing than in sorting through invoices and packing boxes. To emphasize my point, I noted how much writing I have not been doing in the past few years and most particularly this year. I can’t blame all of that on work. This has been a heavy parenting year, but I can definitely point at shipping and convention managing as tasks that sap my creative energy which I would be delighted to give up. Fortunately we’ve entered a business lull where I can take some time to consider options.

Parent Teacher conference filled up my afternoon. It was my chance to talk to all of Link’s teachers and to identify exactly which assignments Link has missed comprehending. He’s good at recognizing things that are due next class time, but once-per-term assignments always surprise him at the end. We’re still identifying trouble spots with particular assignments. The good news is that we’ve reached a good accommodation with the one teacher who seemed unwilling to listen to Link. Mostly this was accomplished by Link facing the homework and realizing that he can do the assignments. Also the teacher was happy to compromise on the length of the journal writing assignments, he has one page to write instead of three. I’ve identified that I need to teach Link to read every paper handed to him in class. At least three times the necessary information for the longer deadline assignments has been in Link’s hands since the second day of class, but he didn’t know because he didn’t read the paper. I actually expect this to be a significant challenge for him because the thought of writing assignments, even ones far in the future, can feel overwhelming. So I need to teach him how to recognize a future assignment, place it on a future day in the calendar, and then not worry about it until then. Half of public school is learning how to task manage and those skills will be useful forever. My primary goal for Link this year is that he do all of his assignments and turn them in on time.

I vacuumed yesterday for the first time in I’m not sure how long. This morning I folded laundry. All the little things, which I’ve had no time nor energy to do, are beginning to get done. Order is slowly returning to my house. I have a small hope that it will also return to my mind, though I’m reluctant to let that hope exist. It feels like I haven’t had peace or routine for almost a year. Even then it was a very busy routine for the year before that. Long ago, back when I decided that Gleek and Patch needed to switch schools more than we needed a light homework load, I knew that I was in for a couple of crazy years. Patch is still in that heavy homework program, so I’ve got a couple years more. Except, Patch is mostly fine with the work. As long as he is not feeling anxious about disappointing people, he just does the work happily. I see that and I feel the faint trickle of hope that maybe this year will not be so bad. Maybe Gleek will just be happy and not anxious this year. Maybe Link and I will establish homework rhythms and he’ll figure out how to find things he likes in his high school. Maybe Patch will have a happy year full of growth. Kiki is out on her own and weathering her ups and downs like the independent adult that she is, but she still likes us, misses us, and calls us frequently. Maybe Howard will just settle into working happily and will plow through everything he has planned for the next few months. Maybe none of my fears will be realized. Maybe. I want to squelch that entire paragraph. Surely it is better to just expect things to be difficult, and be pleasantly surprised. Except that the expectation of difficulty weighs on me. I’ve been carrying it for quite a long time and I wonder if, maybe, it would be okay for me to put it down. Maybe it is okay to let go.

My front room feels empty without boxes of merchandise in it. I look around at the walls I painted last January and remember that I had other plans for making this room pretty. I also look around and realize how much I hope that I can keep the merchandise out of this room. I would love it if my home spaces could belong to my family without all of us having to dodge business all of the time. Having offices is fine, but so often the business spills into all of the living spaces. Achieving more separation may take a while, but at least I recognize it as a thing I want.

I went to bed at 10:30 last night. This means the 6:30 wake up arrived after 8 full hours of sleep. Today was a most effective day on many fronts. I think I’ll attempt to repeat that feat. Which means now is the time to put away computer things.

Accomodations for Link in High School

By / September 12, 2013 / 3 Comments

When Link was in first grade his teacher had a system. When kids needed to complete work at home, she had them put the work into their cubby. Each day the kids were to put the contents of their cubby into their backpack. Link was not very good at that last part. In fact he discovered that if he just left all his papers in his cubby, then Mom knew nothing about the papers. It was a great system, he’d not finish work at school, stick it into his cubby and then it ceased to exist as far as he was concerned. Life was great. Then one day his older sister decided to pick him up from class rather than meeting him at the car. She saw the cubby full of papers and the day of reckoning had begun. Mom made him complete all of the papers over the next week, AND she conspired with the teacher so that she could know every day if school work was completed at school. Link was cornered in a way that meant the easiest way out was to complete the assigned work. Suddenly he started working. We’d found the right solution and the road blocks to learning vanished.

I’m thinking about this today because I just met with Link’s history teacher and discovered that Link has a pile of incomplete work for that class. Writing assignments are never his favorite and this particular teacher talks a mile a minute, which is difficult for Link to follow. His instinctive reaction is to stop and try to wait it out. Fortunately at sixteen he is far more self-aware than he was at six. I’m able to make him a partner in the solutions, some of which sound a lot like “Yup, that’s tough. Deal with it.” The other solutions involve figuring out where in the teaching/learning process things are breaking down. Also I have to help the teacher understand that “Why didn’t you write anything on the quiz paper?” is actually quite a complex question which requires my son to introspect and then form thoughts into words. He wants to answer, but needs more than thirty seconds to figure out what that answer needs to be, because before she asked the question he hadn’t put any thought into the issue. Taking the quiz felt impossible and sorting is necessary to figure out why. Then maybe the next quiz will be possible.

Link’s teacher wanted to see his IEP paperwork and to know what accommodations are on it. I’m not really sure in detail. I’m confident that they are tailored to what was necessary in junior high, but will have to be revised for high school. I know they include his auditory processing disorder and his ADHD. I’m only now beginning to see what might need to be on the paperwork for high school. The teacher quite obviously felt at a loss without it. She wanted a check list “do this, this, and this, then you will have helped this student.” Only we’ve always used the IEP as a sort of fluid guideline and mostly worked with specific teachers to find solutions for individual classes. In one class he doesn’t need any help at all, in another we have to spend lots of time making things work. Most of the difference is in the relationship that Link has with the teacher. If Link feels relaxed and comfortable in a classroom, he doesn’t need help. When he gets stressed, he shuts down, stops working. Unfortunately I can’t put “don’t make him stressed” on the IEP paperwork. I can include “speak slowly,” “face him when you talk,” and “write down all his assignment instructions” Yet I know that even when these things are on the paperwork some teachers will adapt and do them without trouble. Other teachers will intend to do them, believe they are doing them, but they aren’t.

All of which is why I’m meeting with school administration tomorrow morning to discuss rearranging Link’s schedule. A few changes could make a world of difference. We may have to remove him from the class of a generally excellent teacher because that teacher does not have the right rapport with him. This, of course, lead me to worry that I’m over-helping. Growth comes from struggle. Link needs to learn how to keep going in spite of mental road blocks. He needs to learn more flexibility when he doesn’t like the form of an assignment. He needs to learn to recognize when he is avoiding work and consciously decide to do that work anyway. He needs to learn to turn assignments in on time instead of constantly doing them late and being allowed to get away with it because his IEP allows him extra time. I can see Link beginning to learn all of these things. He is amazing and smart, but I know that if the learning is too hard, then his tendency to shut down will kick in.

This is why I’m not going to tomorrow,s meeting with a list of things I want. Instead I’m going with a list of thoughts and options. I’m going with a hope that additional perspectives will bring out even more possibilities. Somewhere there has to be a good balance between accommodation for Link’s real disabilities and requiring him to do hard things so that he can grow. And it is entirely possible that I’m wrong about what he needs to learn and how he needs to learn it. That wouldn’t be a first. I’m still learning, trying to figure out this parenting thing. I would dearly love to find the right combinations so that the road blocks vanish and Link can just go.

Interrupt Driven Day

By / September 10, 2013

I planned for today to be a catch up on all the work day. Instead it was an interrupt-driven catch up on all the community and parenting stuff day. It was the kind of day where I get to the end of it having done important things all day long, but not having crossed of a single to-do item. I know I chose the right things, but that part of my brain which uses task completion as a measure is very frustrated by this sort of day.

And I’m tired, because the parent stuff is only begun, not concluded. My girls are doing well for themselves, though Kiki had an emotionally rough day. My boys both need me to follow through, track their homework, check their grades, and enforce homework time.

I also wish for the space to properly process all of the things. Because I should write an informational post on the challenges and accommodations to help my son with Auditory Processing Disorder as he faces public high school. The adjustment has been rough, partially because we’re still figuring out what resources and options are available. We’re also still identifying problem spots. At least this time I’m paying attention. Kiki’s transition into high school hit crisis level before we found some solutions. I could also write up how much I disliked having to email the 5th grade teacher to confess that my son was behind on his work because I’ve been too busy to tell him to do it. As long as I remind him, the work is cheerfully completed.

Tomorrow I need to send all of my kids to school (had kids home sick the last two days), ignore all the phone calls (except the ones from schools about kids), and finally put away the mess of things left over from Worldcon. Then I need to do all the post-convention accounting and remember what comes next fore the Jay Wake Book project. After that I need to work on layout for Longshoreman of the Apocalypse and sort my storage room. After that there are weeds, dishes, and laundry. Maybe I’ll feel caught up by Friday. If I hurry.

A Few Thoughts from Mid-Salt Lake City Comic Con

By / September 6, 2013

We’re halfway through Salt Lake City Comic Con. It is being a good show. The crowds and energy are good. I can tell that we’re going to break even. I can tell that we’re reaching into a new market with people who have never heard of us before and might be interested. From a business standpoint it is exactly what it needs to be. I wish I wasn’t already exhausted.

Howard still hasn’t properly recovered from WorldCon and SLCC is a real marathon effort of meeting and greeting. I’m still tired from running the back end of both GenCon and WorldCon. I’m tired from planning all the logistics and from carrying all the worry to make sure things go well. He’s staying in a hotel in SLC because that is the only way for him to be rested enough to give his energy to the fans for twelve hours per day. I’m commuting from home (an hour drive each direction) because someone has to tell the kids to go to bed and to get them off to school in the morning. Next week I’ll have to figure out all the homework that has been ignored in the last few days.

Tomorrow I’ll be at SLCC from 7 am until 7pm when the dealer’s hall closes. Then I’ll stay however-long after that to help break down the booth and haul everything home. Tomorrow is my son’s 16th birthday. I probably won’t see him all day. He’s a great kid and very understanding, but I wish I could do better for him than asking him to watch his siblings while I’m gone. So today I’m at home trying to set things up so that the birthday can be happy here at home. I’m disappointed in myself that so many of the solutions involve sugar. I’ll try to fix that some other day, today I’m too tired to change bad habits.

Today I am also incredibly grateful for the kind people who have given their time as booth help. It is hard to ask people to spend grueling hours on a show floor, because I know how exhausted it makes me. Yet they come, and I’m glad.

I’m grateful for my son, who has calmly and willingly told me it is okay. We’ve planned a proper celebration for next week with his friends. He is such a good person.

I’m grateful for the all the friends and fans who stop by the booth to say hello. They are the reward, the reason that all this effort is worth something. They are glad to see us and make us glad to be there even though we are exhausted.

Onward.