jaynespace

When It's Right, It's Right

After my deeply depressing attempt to get Kurt into preschool last spring, which was followed by a somewhat depressing search for preschools this past fall, during which I learned that lots of preschools are perfectly happy to take special needs kids as long as they don't, you know, have any special needs, I was feeling sort of frustrated. I knew I should be looking for a place for fall 2012 just in case we don't get deported. But on the other hand, asking me to plan for anything other than the worst case scenario can be sort of a tall order.

Nevertheless, I got myself together and went on a visit to a school in our neighborhood, a place I had not considered before mainly because it's housed in the basement of an Anglican church, and I feared it might be Jesus-y.  (Though I'm certain there is no shortage of fine Jesus oriented preschools out there, the Anglican church is not a flavor I'm familiar with. Sure, it seems gentle enough, with the whole "vicar" thing they've got going on, but you never know.). It turns out that the preschool just rents the space.

And while Kurt was there at the visit, playing with the trains and looking perfectly comfortable, the teacher told me they'd definitely have a space in the fall. But more importantly, they had a space right away.

Oh, I told her, but he would need an aide, and I really have no idea how long it would take to arrange that sort of thing.

Well, it turns out that the teacher knew exactly how to arrange that sort of thing. Five days later, Kurt had his first day. It went pretty well. I hung around outside the door and he only needed to come see me once. The second day was the snow day. (How lucky is this kid? I never got single snow day in all my years growing up in California, and he gets one on his second day of school!) But on the third day I didn't need to stay at all.

Anyway, here's the place:

 

 

He has a cubby!

 

And here he is, just outside the circle of kids, playing peekaboo scarves with his fearless aide Amy. This picture was taken through the window. I have other stalking pictures, but this one was I guess the most illustrative.

 

So there you go. Kurt started preschool. He likes it. What the hell?

Snow Day

Snow Day rules, which I just made up today, include but are not limited to: shorts, popsicles,unlimited television and no housework.

All various therapy and small child related activity was cancelled. Every school in the city was closed except for Jeff's (of course).  Meanwhile, our walk and long driveway was shoveled and salted by our neighbor, a nice guy whose name I can never remember, mainly because I have prematurely aged to the point where all athletic white guys in their early to mid twenties are looking disturbingly alike. (Also, I'm not sure how to reciprocate. Do you tip people who shovel things for you? Send them alcohol? I think I'm going with the alcohol, but if anyone has a better idea, let me know.)

Kurt has discovered that snowballs are awesome. These were taken yesterday, before things really got going, snow-wise, but there was still plenty to enjoy.

Here is a representative image of how Maria feels about the snow:

And yet she's the only natural Canadian in the family.

How Do We Afford Our Rock N' Roll Lifestyle? We Don't, So Much

Remember the holidays? Yeah, it's kind of a blur for me too. We went places.

First to Santa Barbara, chez Kraxaw, where our children bathed together.

 

And made music.

(If we can get Maria on a lute and Sylvia's future sibling on some percussion, I think we could put together a lovely renaissance chamber group. See, I'm all about creating opportunities for children to explore their potential. That said, it would be nice if one of our kids could play a freaking sport well enough to support us in our old age, but I don't see it happening.)

We also went to parks.

 

Yes, that's my son outside in bare feet in December, because California is awesome.

 

On the Santa Barbara Zoo train.

 

Babies in bows. Yes!

 

Visiting people with small children means that there will be frequent occasions for your own small child to frolic and scamper.

 As an interlude we went up to Sacramento, in a car journey that felt epic at the time but doesn't seem so momentous from the safety and comfort of my living room as I type this. My sister Lisa and her husband Kevin renewed their vows, this time in a real church! (Dad would have been so pleased!) 

 

A gaggle of sisters.

 

Finally, we made it to St. Louis. Twas festive! Kurt sat through a good eighty percent of an honest to goodness (short) theater performance. Long, rich, delicious meals were devoured. We heard our nephew Luke craft many, many knock-knock jokes, some of were actually and intentionally funny. And I spent more than half the week in fleece pants with a mug of tea in my hand, so you know I had a good time.

Here's Kurt letting Uncle Paul hold him.

 

Uncle Paul, in fact, won a prize in the category of Guy Who Tried The Hardest To Win My Kids Over, the prize being getting to hold Maria.

 

Seriously, many others tried and were brutally rebuffed. You'll note, for instance, the distinct lack of pictures of Grandma. But here's Grandpa giving it a whirl.

 

Sawyer and her sidekick.

 

Maria got a ball popper for Christmas. She had to fight the other kids off for it.

 

Sometimes with a light saber.

 

By St. Louis, the kids were exhausted. The crutches we rely on at home sparingly or when things get really tough-Veggie Booty, pacifiers, bottles, electronic devices-became standard fare every day we were there, just to maintain basic tolerable moods. Here's Kurt having a midday break with a blanket, his trusty Bunny, a pacifier, and of course, an iPhone. 

 

For everything that Kurt does object to, however, there is some random thing he thinks is perfectly fine, like having a bow in his hair.

 

So, on the subject of  three week trips to the States, when I say "Never AGAIN!"I think I might mean it this time. For as good a trip as we had, I think it could be even better if we were a bit less wrung out by the last third.  But ask me again next year.

Kurt is four years old!!

I really think the major disadvantage to having a birthday the first week in January is not so much having a birthday close to Christmas, but having a birthday at a time in the year during which you or someone close to you is likely to be sick.  Alas, Kurt is quite snuffly (and Maria's cough is sounding consumptive). He slept awfully last night, even on his newly acquired Lightning McQueen sheets. Thus, he spent a long portion of the morning and the early afternoon lounging in bed with books and toys. He was content to receive visitors and snacks like a lazy little monarch.

 

By afternoon he seemed well enough to go out for a birthday swim with Daddy, followed by a birthday dinner of fries and apples at McDonald's.

 

He came home for a quick birthday visit with Val and Allen of next door, before he settled in for his birthday cupcake. In my attempt to illustrate why we should not touch lit birthday candles I actually did burn myself, which was not as effective a lesson as one might hope.

 

We didn't bother with bedtime Benadryl, because even if you're successful in holding him down long enough to get the medicine in his mouth, he's now knows that he can just spit it out if he waits until we let him go. Luckily, he passed out easily enough on his own. Long may it last.

I suppose we should have measured him or something. Soon! 

(In the meantime, see Danielle's birthday video montage!)

By the way, here's Maggie! Kurt is already enchanted by Maggiecat. She's kind of lukewarm on him.

Happy New Year!

We traveled and we feasted and we made merry and we saw many people we love and we picked up a new cat (named Maggie!) and then we wearily made our way home in time to have a New Year's Eve that was very quiet except for the sound of coughing and sniffling. 

More to come! (Except for the coughing and sniffling. Hopefully there will be less of that. More of everything else.)