Whoever it was must have been turning in their grave if they were listening in to the cursing in out house at 4:15am on Sunday morning.
Yes, 4:15am - that's what time Callum decided getting up time was. No matter how many times we told him it was still night night time and tried to rub his back, he was having none of it. "Up, up", "mammaaaa", "dadeeeee", "up, up". We managed to get him to stay in his cot until 5, at which point Kieran also decided to join in, sigh Mark was an angel and got up with both of them as I'd been up several times in the night with Kieran who is getting his first molar.
Both boys were pretty messed up for the rest of the day, and napped much earlier than normal. We kept them amused in the afternoon with a trip to the beach (Callum had his first dunk in the sea) and then a visit to an indoor play space where they could run and explore and hopefully use up so much energy that they'd sleep and sleep and sleep.
4am this morning and I hear Kieran squawking, I run in quickly with a dose of kids pain medicine and a dummy (pacifier). He settles down and I listen intently for sounds from Callum, just as I'm breathing a sigh of relief I hear "mamaaaa". I tiptoe in very quietly, find another dummy, rub his back and cover him up with his blanket, while I silently say "please let him go back to sleep" over and over in my head. I tiptoe out, a little cry and then silence.
Monday, October 31, 2005
Thursday, October 27, 2005
The famous Mr. Callum
I post lots of my photos on a photo community called flickr where you can tag your photos with keywords. I always tag pictures of Callum with Down Syndrome and Trisomy 21. Recently someone asked if they could use a picture of Callum for the University of Kansas website and here's the result http://www.soe.ku.edu/depts/sped/masters/early_childhood.php
Yesterday I received an email from Gail Williamson who is the Executive Director of the Down Sydrome Association of Los Angeles asking if she could give Callum's details to the producers of a local PBS TV program called A Place of Our Own as they like to include a wide range of kids on the show and she thought Callum might like to particiate. We'll see what happens and I'll keep you posted.
Yesterday I received an email from Gail Williamson who is the Executive Director of the Down Sydrome Association of Los Angeles asking if she could give Callum's details to the producers of a local PBS TV program called A Place of Our Own as they like to include a wide range of kids on the show and she thought Callum might like to particiate. We'll see what happens and I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, October 26, 2005
How could I say No
Callum : splash, splash in the bath points to the shelf and makes a little grunt
Mummy : What do you want?
Callum : Bee Bee (Big Bird) and points to the bottle of Sesame Street bubble bath
Mummy : You want Big Bird?
Callum : Big nod of the head says "yeah"
Mummy : No no, no bubbles tonight
Callum : looks at me with big puppy dog eyes and signs a big "PLEASE"
Mummy : melts into a little puddle on the floor and hands over requested bottle of bubbles, how could I have said no.
We've been working on the sign for "please" for a while but this is the first time he's used it without prompting in the right kind of context.
Mummy : What do you want?
Callum : Bee Bee (Big Bird) and points to the bottle of Sesame Street bubble bath
Mummy : You want Big Bird?
Callum : Big nod of the head says "yeah"
Mummy : No no, no bubbles tonight
Callum : looks at me with big puppy dog eyes and signs a big "PLEASE"
Mummy : melts into a little puddle on the floor and hands over requested bottle of bubbles, how could I have said no.
We've been working on the sign for "please" for a while but this is the first time he's used it without prompting in the right kind of context.
Why does this bother me?
A colleague at work has 2 daughters that are adopted from China. He knows that Callum has Down syndrome because I talk about it and I have a big poster on my office door advertising the Buddy Walk. Recently he asked my advice because his youngest daughter isn't speaking (she's around 2 I think) and his wife had contacted the local early intervention program. So I told him a little about Callum's speech therapy, gave him the contact details of the person who did Callum's speech evaluation and also reassured him that lots of kids are late talkers. I gave an example of my brother who didn't talk until he was 3 and is now doing great, he was reassured and said that he betted my brother was now an engineer or something - I let it slide because I didn't want to get into the fact that he's actually an artist, poet, musician, wood carver, highly intelligent hippie because it really wasn't what he wanted to hear. Why is worth dependant on being an engineer/doctor/lawyer??
I saw the same colleague today and he told me with great glee that the evaluation went fine and that it showed that his daughter is really really smart, I could see such relief in his eyes. I get the impression that anything less than "really really smart" is unacceptable. How will he react if one of his kids flunks out of school or decides to become a mechanic, shop assistant, hair dresser or some other less intellectual job. Why can't he just be glad that he has 2 healthy little girls?
I saw the same colleague today and he told me with great glee that the evaluation went fine and that it showed that his daughter is really really smart, I could see such relief in his eyes. I get the impression that anything less than "really really smart" is unacceptable. How will he react if one of his kids flunks out of school or decides to become a mechanic, shop assistant, hair dresser or some other less intellectual job. Why can't he just be glad that he has 2 healthy little girls?
Driving
You know there's nothing like driving a convertible with the top down, blue sky and palm trees above you. I love driving a manual (stick shift) car with the stereo blaring some great sing along tune and reasonably clear roads - it ups my mood and puts a smile on my face.
I learnt to drive when I was 19, no one in my house drove so we didn't have a car but it was something I wanted to do. I payed for my own lessons by working at The Gap, doing babysitting and asking for money for birthdays and Christmas. I failed my first test because I badly messed up on parallel parking but passed my second time. By the time I passed my step grandad had donated his car to my step dad, who was also taking lessons. The car had about 2 months left on an "anybody can drive it" kind of insurance so I was given free reign, I loved the freedom it gave me. Unfortunately by the time the insurance ran out my step dad had passed his test and decided that he wouldn't include me on the insurance, so I was car less for a couple of years.
I spent a year in Georgia as an exchange student and a car was pretty essential. My then boyfriend and I scoured the papers and eventually bought a Mitsubishi Colt which was nicknamed "The Beast". I rarely drove it though because the freeways with their 5 lanes on each side and everyone undertaking and overtaking all at the same time freaked me out a little. "The Beast" got us to Florida, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, South Carolina, Alabama, North Carolina, Virginia and Maryland and New Jersey. When it was time to go home it was pretty much knackered but we left it with a friend who assured us that he was going to take good care of it, we later heard that it was eventually towed from the college car park and I presume was taken to the great scrap heap in the sky. I still remember the registration BPE 164 and the night that we ran over a sheep (it was already dead) in the middle of an exceedingly dark country road (glad we didn't run into any cops as the car didn't get kind of bloody)
After I graduated I bought myself a Ford Fiesta, it had a 950 engine and was a kind of burnt orange colour. It cost me 400 quid and I was terrified of driving it at first because I'd hardly driven since I passed my test 4 years previously. My daily trips on the M25 soon cured me of any driving fears and I found that I really liked driving. After about a year it started to die on me and eventually decided to stop all together. I bought a newer car (another Fiesta) and left my poor dead orange thing parked outside on the street because I couldn't be bothered to call a tow truck. It would mysteriously move several feet up or down the road over night, we found out that the local kids were using it as a little meeting spot and would bump it along the road for fun sometimes - I left them to it hoping that one day one of them would just take it away. I nearly got my wish, the police turned up one night at my door saying that someone had tried to steal my car but that luckily an observant neighbour had noticed (at 2am) someone acting suspiciously round the car and rang the police. A short while later I bit the bullet and paid a tow company to come and take it away.
When I came to California I knew I wanted a convertible and bought a 1973 MGB, I thought I was the bees knees and absolutely loved to drive it even though it was a bit temperamental and the battery would short out at very inopportune moments (like on the freeway driving at 65 miles an hour at night). Since then we've had a BMW 3 series convertible, a Mitsubishi Eclipse (current convertible), a VW Golf (when Callum was born) and now a VW Passat wagon (estate car for you Brits) which can comfortably hold 2 strollers, 2 car seats and all the various paraphernalia you find yourself carrying around when you have kids. We still have a convertible (the Eclipse) but it's relegated to a once a week drive when we need 2 cars because Callum has therapy that day.
Driving a wagon with the windows close, air conditioning on and Sesame Street blaring just isn't the same.
I learnt to drive when I was 19, no one in my house drove so we didn't have a car but it was something I wanted to do. I payed for my own lessons by working at The Gap, doing babysitting and asking for money for birthdays and Christmas. I failed my first test because I badly messed up on parallel parking but passed my second time. By the time I passed my step grandad had donated his car to my step dad, who was also taking lessons. The car had about 2 months left on an "anybody can drive it" kind of insurance so I was given free reign, I loved the freedom it gave me. Unfortunately by the time the insurance ran out my step dad had passed his test and decided that he wouldn't include me on the insurance, so I was car less for a couple of years.
I spent a year in Georgia as an exchange student and a car was pretty essential. My then boyfriend and I scoured the papers and eventually bought a Mitsubishi Colt which was nicknamed "The Beast". I rarely drove it though because the freeways with their 5 lanes on each side and everyone undertaking and overtaking all at the same time freaked me out a little. "The Beast" got us to Florida, Texas, Louisiana, Mississippi, South Carolina, Alabama, North Carolina, Virginia and Maryland and New Jersey. When it was time to go home it was pretty much knackered but we left it with a friend who assured us that he was going to take good care of it, we later heard that it was eventually towed from the college car park and I presume was taken to the great scrap heap in the sky. I still remember the registration BPE 164 and the night that we ran over a sheep (it was already dead) in the middle of an exceedingly dark country road (glad we didn't run into any cops as the car didn't get kind of bloody)
After I graduated I bought myself a Ford Fiesta, it had a 950 engine and was a kind of burnt orange colour. It cost me 400 quid and I was terrified of driving it at first because I'd hardly driven since I passed my test 4 years previously. My daily trips on the M25 soon cured me of any driving fears and I found that I really liked driving. After about a year it started to die on me and eventually decided to stop all together. I bought a newer car (another Fiesta) and left my poor dead orange thing parked outside on the street because I couldn't be bothered to call a tow truck. It would mysteriously move several feet up or down the road over night, we found out that the local kids were using it as a little meeting spot and would bump it along the road for fun sometimes - I left them to it hoping that one day one of them would just take it away. I nearly got my wish, the police turned up one night at my door saying that someone had tried to steal my car but that luckily an observant neighbour had noticed (at 2am) someone acting suspiciously round the car and rang the police. A short while later I bit the bullet and paid a tow company to come and take it away.
When I came to California I knew I wanted a convertible and bought a 1973 MGB, I thought I was the bees knees and absolutely loved to drive it even though it was a bit temperamental and the battery would short out at very inopportune moments (like on the freeway driving at 65 miles an hour at night). Since then we've had a BMW 3 series convertible, a Mitsubishi Eclipse (current convertible), a VW Golf (when Callum was born) and now a VW Passat wagon (estate car for you Brits) which can comfortably hold 2 strollers, 2 car seats and all the various paraphernalia you find yourself carrying around when you have kids. We still have a convertible (the Eclipse) but it's relegated to a once a week drive when we need 2 cars because Callum has therapy that day.
Driving a wagon with the windows close, air conditioning on and Sesame Street blaring just isn't the same.
Monday, October 17, 2005
Sunday, October 16, 2005
The Farm
I found details recently about a farm/petting zoo in our area and this morning we made a spur of the moment decision to go. Callum loves to make animal noises and one of his favourites at the moment is cock-a-doodledoo (courtesy of the Wiggles I think). We get to The Farm and as soon as we open the door we hear "cock-a-doodledoo" from several roosters that are strutting around. Callum gets all wide eyed with his hand over his mouth like he can't quite believe what he had just heard. The grin on his face when he got out of the car and saw not only chickens but ducks, goats, pigs, geese, donkeys, horses, sheep, a lama and an emu was just amazing.
It was basically a free for all with all the animals (apart from the horses) just wandering around. Callum kept his distance at first but was soon coaxed into stroking a very friendly and heavily pregnant goat, after that he was off. It's like until he touched one of the animals he wasn't sure what to make of them. He quacked at ducks, "sshhhd" when they were asleep and then ran at them giggling to wake them up. He oinked at pigs, neighed at horses and did lots of cock-a-doodle-doos. Kieran seemed fairly blase about the whole thing but he did enjoy stroking a donkey.
Two tired boys are now fast asleep, I think it's a trip we'll be making again.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Celiac again
Mark decided to get tested for celiac disease as he does have a few symptoms which could be attributed to celiac, plus the fact that he has psoriasis means that he's more susceptible to other auto immune disorders. He had the test on Monday and the results take about a week, it's a loooong week. Mark is an eternal pessimist so he's convinced that he's got it. Every time we go out to eat he's all doom and gloom because he doesn't think he'll be able to eat that particular dish again (he finished lunch on Monday with "I'll never be able to eat Carbonara again!"), the free time he has is spent looking at celiac sites and getting even more depressed over the restrictions that would be placed on his diet. He's already planning one last beer blow out as beer is made with malt which comes from barley which is a no no if you have celiac. I know he's really stressing about it so please send lots of "send the test results quickly" vibes to the lab technicians. At least once we know we can actually do something about it.
Blankie Baby
Kieran has become a "blankie baby", it's been developing for a while but now he's definitely addicted. The blankie in question is a soft fleecy baby blanket that Kieran likes to squish his face into and snuggle up to when sleeping. It used to only live in his crib but now he likes to reach through the bars and pull it out whenever he gets a chance. Last night when he cried in the night it was because he couldn't find his blankie (usually it's because he's lost his pacifier but that was still firmly ensconced). I wonder how long it'll be before he wants to take it to school with him? I think I must have passed on the comfort object gene, my mum has a well travelled feather pillow that she has to have in order to go to sleep. My brother, Richard, had odd pieces of cotton and my thing was nylon, I'm sure there are pictures of me with thumb firmly stuck in my mouth carrying around a pair of nylon knickers!
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Ready to slide
Haven't posted for a little while, so here's a couple of photos from one of our numerous recent trips to the park
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