debriefing before Thanksgiving 2009

Hello all. I just figured this is a good place to vent, tell you all about my dropping off my son to his mom...

She lives 1000 miles away. I fly with my 4 year old to St Louis. I tell her by text when I'm on the plane, and when I've landed, and that we'll meet at the usual 5 min parking.

She's always late. Usually I only have to wait a few minutes, and that was the case here. She always has her bf with her when she picks him up, or drops him off.

As I'm waiting, my heart is pounding. I'm expecting her to berate me (because that's what she does), or to try to give me some reason why she should be allowed to reduce her CS payments.

She gets there, and I'm waiting by the 5 minute parking. I see her car before she sees me, so I walk in that direction, holding the boy. There are 4 empty spots, but they're reserved for the courtesy shuttles to the different hotels/rental car companies. I thought she'd just park there, since the spaces were empty, but instead, she opens the car window to yell at me to go to the 5 minute parking...which is full of cars. Of course, I could see this, and she couldn't, but I followed directions anyway, because I could see they weren't stopping.

And of course, there was a small traffic jam, that I walked through, to get to her car. My poor son looked lost after I set him down. My ex's bf took my son and put him in the car. My ex didn't even look at me, and she asked about his allergy medicine. Her voice cracked and waivered. She was at least as nervous as me! I was surprised. I put his "pack-pack" in the car, said good-bye to him, and they took off.

I get home several hours later, and this is her fb status:

... thinks that anyone who tells a 4 year old that they have to keep something secret needs a wake up call. ESPECIALLY when said 4 year old acts sad because of it.

The problem here, is that I didn't tell him to keep any kind of secret. I think he's choosing not to tell her things because if/when he does, she probably flips. I don't know that for sure, but I can see not wanting to say things to her for myself...kids don't tell things because they're worried about the reaction. I know this. That's why I try to keep calm when my son tells me things he probably knows I'm not going to like, such as him fighting with another boy at school. And for the most part, he tells me. I also have the idea that she interrogates him, which I'm sure he doesn't like, but I have no way to tell...He does come back in two weeks. Sigh. And I miss him already.

Rusty

David Weekly, #76, Thanksgiving Edition

I asked David if he wants to see art, and he says, as long as they have a park there. So we went to the Temple Terrace Arts Festival, so he could see some art, and all he wanted to do was go to the park. I should've known. He did see some drawings and things by other children, so he got a little bit in. I asked him what the different things were, and he was able to identify them, except for a few of the more abstract ones.

David sings, "We will, we will...rockin'..." I ask him where he heard this, and of course, the answer I get is "I don't know!" I figure it must be at school, because I can't imagine where else he would have heard it. It's just funny to hear him singing it at random, out of any context.

He is also capable of giving me driving directions. He tells me he wants to go to the yellow park. I don't recall the yellow park, not immediately anyway, so I ask if he knows where it is. He says he does. So we get in the car; I drive. I ask, at each turning point (stop sign, traffic light, fork in the road), which way? He says, Left. Then we get to the traffic light. Which way? He says, Right. "Now which way?" I ask. He says, "Drive that way for a while." But it's only another block, and we're there. Too bad the park was closed. So we went to another park, with the bumpy slide. At this park David ends up with two different little girls following him around. He wasn't really aware of the first one, but he made contact with the second, actively encouraging her: "Come on! Let's go slide!" or whatever he was wanting to do. Sometimes she'd follow and other times, not.

David embarrassed me in a way that I've never been embarrassed before. We're at the grocery store checkout, and he points to the three men in front of me, saying, "Those are boys." If only it were that simple. Because they're grown black men, and we're in the South, you can't say such a thing. Even a little boy. I just play dumb: "I don't see any boys, just grown men." I figure out after a few minutes of correcting him that he simply means, "not girls." All of this is played out in front of one very disgusted man, another who is understanding, and a third, the cashier, who isn't really paying attention. The two in front of me were either in their late 40's or early 50's, and unrelated, as far as I could tell. I just apologized quietly to the more understanding man, as the disgusted man just left, and I didn't have a chance to say anything to him. The cashier was more amused than anything. I want David to be color blind, but not insensitive to color at the same time. So this was a lesson in that.

Playing the "Blue's Clues" game, David tells me he's going to write his sissy's name. I ask him, "What is your sissy's name?" His reply? "Sissy." I ask him who Colleen is. He says, "Colween is my sister. She lives far away. Like my mom." The reason all of this came up is because I tell him he's going to see his mommy this week, on Saturday. He gets excited, "What today is it?" I tell him, "Tuesday." Then he walks off, counting off the days until Saturday. Every day he asks what today it is. I tell him it's one day closer to Saturday, and whatever the day is. And we go through the days of the week again, just to be sure. He says he wants to see her, because he misses her a lot. We're flying out on Saturday, to arrive at the St Louis Airport at 12:30 CST. He's going for Thanksgiving, and will be staying for 2 weeks, until Saturday, December 5.

Friday we went to the doctor's office for his second H1N1 shot. (And he's 42.5 inches.) He wanted to watch the needle go in his leg. He asked the nurse if she's going to poke him. She fibbed and said she's going to give him medicine, which, while technically true, didn't answer his question. He's been anticipating this shot. "That shot hurts," he says. Of course he cried, for a few minutes. But then it was over. It's been a condition of doing good things, like getting more dinosaur tattoos, particularly the stegasaurus tattoo. In addition, I bought him new shoes, since he's been saying that his shoes are too small. When we went to the shoe store, we found out that his feet haven't grown, that his shoes still fit. I bought him the next half size up anyway, and he wears them now. And they glow in the dark!

Lastly, David's hair is getting long. I ask him about getting it cut, and he says he wants his hair to be like his friend "Puriel" (I have no idea how to spell this child's name), who is black, and has his hair cut very close to his scalp. He says that he and Puriel are the same. This is very different from John Robert, who is the boy that David fights with, every day without fail. I've really had some discussions with the people at Gabriel's Glen about this, and what it boils down to is this: David and John Robert behave like brothers, in that they really like each other, until they fight like cats and dogs. I've told David to stay away from him, and when he does, it's okay, no problems. I've also discussed this with my sister Rachel, who works with children David's age, and she says that this happens from time to time, where there happen to be a pair of (usually) boys who will love each other and then tangle. And there's really very little you can do about it, short of pulling one or both of them out of the class/playground/whatever, so they don't interact at all. I talk to David about it, too, and work with him at home. It seems that it's going to be a slow process, because his fighting with anybody like this is totally unacceptable.

Have a great week, and Happy Thanksgiving. :-)

David Weekly, #75

David drew a picture of me. He was coloring on some blank paper, and asked if he could draw a picture of me. I said ok, and he looks at me very seriously for a minute, then draws me. Lots of circles...I've scanned and attached this "art" to this email...

David gets a 2.5 ml dropper of Xyzal every day. It's a 24 hour dose. The name for the dropper? A "squisher" or a "squoosher". Maybe that's the part of the bulb that you squeeze? Anyway, he has two, one has a yellow bulb and the other has a blue bulb. David says he wants a red squoosher, too. Everything red for that kid! He also was asking me why he has to take the sour medicine at night, and the other one in the morning. My answer? "The doctor told us to do it that way." It does seem to be working...

And about his hitting: He told me again that he doesn't want to go to school. I ask him why, and he says it's because he can't stop himself from hitting his friends. This is through some difficult, tortured conversation on his part. It sounded like anyone who's ever tried to stop doing anything, but can't somehow. I talked to the people at Gabrielle's Glen about it, to try to come up with some strategies. One thing we came up with was simple: David keeps his hands at his sides. It worked for one day. I'd like input on what other things can be done/said to keep him from hitting. Any time we come up with something new, it works for a while...but then he reverts. I spoke with the director of the daycare, and she is not overly concerned. All the kids do this from time to time, she says. And David plays very rough, as well.

So here are some pictures from Halloween. David was very uncooperative about it, which made taking pictures difficult, so I only took a very few. David's favorite Halloween candy is lollipops. I also took a few other pictures of him, since his grandma Kenney requested that I send her some.

On the way home from daycare, David asked me for 10 fingers. "I want 10 fingers, daddy..." I ask him why he wants 10 fingers. He says so that he can be like everybody else. I ask him why he wants to be like everybody else...and his response is basically, "so he'll fit in." I refrain from trying to sell him platitudes like, "It'll make you a better person." Instead, I just told him that he is the way he is...just how he was built. So ask for advice from anyone that wishes to offer it. Right now he says he has 7 fingers, one for each day of the week. ... What prompted this? He wasn't able to hold two maracas, because his left hand isn't strong enough with only the two fingers.

Remember how last week (or two weeks ago?) how David said he's Charlie Brown, then Linus? Well, now he's just about every character he sees on TV that he likes. So he's Pocoyo, or one of the dinosaurs on Dinosaur Train...

David loves his "tattoos" of dinosaurs, too. He has them on, and they come off slowly, and I have to put more on him.

Thursday night turned out to be a party. I had David, of course, and then Jared and Avery came over. Then Jesse, and her sister Julia (Julie), and her two kids. They had such a blast! David really likes Julie's kids, as they are more David's age, and size. Avery enjoyed being the Leader of Everybody, playing Hide n Seek...when the cousins got together, Avery took on the teacher role and was beginning to teach David how to read, since she figured out that he knows his letters and numbers, but then she found out that he can read a little bit, too.

I "read" him the book "Mice Squeak, We Speak", by intentionally getting the words wrong, and he corrects me. So he reads it. If I try to just get him to read it by himself, he won't, saying it's too hard, or he doesn't know that word, usually with lots of whining. He tells me still what letters he's working on. This week, it's the letter J. He also makes sure to show me the acorn, or pumpkin, or apple, or whatever it is on various boards around the classroom with his name on them. I don't know what they represent, but he sure does love having his name up there.

Last of all, David asks from time to time when he's going to see his mother. I tell him how many weeks. It satisfies him to hear how long. Last week, I told him two weeks. This week, as of Saturday, October 14, it'll be 7 days. Have a good week!

David Weekly, #74

David is mad at me. I won't give him another birthday. I ask him why he wants another birthday. "So I can turn 5," he says. I ask him what's so great about being 5, and he says, "So I won't get sick anymore." I don't understand this response, because he's never sick. He had a couple of illnesses when he was a baby, but nothing in the last two years at least. He asks me at various points to give him a birthday. I just tell him he gets one every year, and that it takes time to get his birthday. He's said a few other things about why he wants to get old, but I haven't been able to make sense out of them, since it doesn't sound like anything at all, just gibberish. Or he won't say.

Ok, so David was very cute and sweet the other morning. Because of the time change, we had some extra time, since we both woke up "early" according to the new time, and had finished our morning routine. He was having me "find" a toy that he would "hide" saying it was vanished! ("Does that mean the same as disappeared?") He would hide it, and then take me around to each room and say, "Is it there? No..." until we'd get to the room, then he would "find" it for me. It was really a lot of fun.

It's been a typical week, not a lot going on. David will be watching TV, and I'll be in the kitchen on my computer, and he comes up to me, gives me a big hug (usually he's pretty happy about something), and then goes back to whatever it was he was doing. He frequently just has the TV on, and is playing by himself. He just comes over, gets a recharge, and goes back. It's pretty sweet on his part.

One liners:

A friend of mine broke her foot. David sees her on her crutches and says, "Be careful and make sure you don't break your o'er foot!"

Getting the mail, I get a big envelope, and a small one. David gives me the big one: "When you're big, you get the big one. I get the small one because I'm little!"

Sorry I'm late this week. Hope your week is a good one.