Saturday, July 9, 2011
So I Gone and Done it and I'm Glad I Did!
I published my book FALL. What is FALL about you might ask? Well - it's all spelled out in the new blog I started for it here . Hope to see you there!
Friday, May 6, 2011
Aloha Fridays: The Cooter Patrol
1967 Pago Pago, American Samoa
(This is a True Story)
As the son of a government contract worker, my father and his family lived in a government compound in American Samoa. Being 16 years old, Dad, (who I will refer to as Michael from now on), was on of the oldest white kids in the compound and in the pecking order, he was top rooster. Michael had two younger brothers and together they ruled the neighborhood.
The summer of ’67 was particularly boring since Michael and his brothers weren’t allowed to get jobs. They had an immense amount of time on their hands and on a small island, such as American Samoa, it didn’t take very long for them to find trouble.
Several other younger teenage males in the compound looked up to Michael and wanted desperately to belong to his “gang”. Michael, however, was very selective with who he hung out with. These other boys weren’t exactly his cut of beef. However, he couldn’t think of an easy way to get rid of these unwanted tag-alongs. So, Dad started the Cooter Patrol Gang and held initiations.
The first thing the new recruits had to do was steal license plates. See, there are only 3 types of licenses in Samoa. Cargo and/or Passenger. It was a cargo plate if it had a capital C at the beginning and a passenger plate if it had a P. It was the Buses that had the treasured CP on it’s plates. Thus, Cooter Patrol. Of course, Michael wasn’t above performing the initiation himself and soon had a Cargo Plate tacked to the makeshift clubhouse in the jungle behind the compound.
A few days later, several more CP plates appeared on the wall of the club house. That was too easy, thought Michael. After much thought, an idea came to mind. An idea so diabolical, that it would surely weed out the weak-willed, yellow-bellied, toad eating scum who thought they were worthy enough to hang out with Michael.
Michael sent out word to all the wannabes to meet him at the Tafuna Airport at midnight.
American Samoa has only one airport. And it’s tiny. If there were initiations for pilots, landing a Boeing 727 in Samoa had to be it. The runway is very short and ends at the edge of a cliff overlooking the thrashing, chaotic ocean that could pulverize a plane in minutes against the jagged edges of the reef below its frothing, white foam.
Michael arrived with his two younger brothers, Jerry and Merle and hid in the jungle alongside the runway. As midnight approached, Michael awaited the arrival of security which was tasked with driving up and down the runway in an old beat up station wagon, clearing away coconut tree fronds, wild pigs, and other debris.
Soon, the other boys arrived and hunkered down in the shrubbery. The expressions on their faces were mixed curiosity and trepidation – as they had no idea what Michael was going to do. Michael had smeared black shoe polish on his face, dressed in black and tucked his fiery red hair under a black stocking cap.
The boys waited in the bushes while the sun melted into the watery horizon, casting a velvety blue cloak over the tropical sky. Security arrived as the boys waited for them to do their runway clean up.
Once security had made its rounds, Michael snuck from the bushes and made for the center of the runway a few yards from the edge of the cliff.
The other boys watched in wonderment as the reality of what Michael was attempting began to dawn on them. This would be the final initiation for the other boys before they could officially join the Cooter Patrol.
Michael lay down on his belly on the tarmac which still held the heat of the summer tropic sun. He quickly realized that if he lay on his belly – he’d be unable to see the approaching airplane. He flipped over to his back and looked toward the horizon where he could just make out the approaching headlights of the 727.
He took in long deep breaths to calm his racing heart and glanced over at the edge of the runaway where his brothers and the other boys waited and watched in mute anticipation. The plane was approaching rapidly and as Michael looked up, he saw to his horror that the plane was not coming in straight and sure as he thought planes did when looking at them land from the side. The plane was veering from side to side as it navigated its landing – forcing Michael to shift his body first one way then the other as he tried to line himself up with the center of the plane between the wheels. He knew that the back two wheels would hit the tarmac first before the center wheel.
But as that plane approached, getting lower and lower, veering from side to side, Michael knew he had made a mortal error in judgment and that this wasn’t the best idea of his short 16 years.
The wheels struck the tarmac, the engines reversed and every cell in his body screamed in terror as the monstrous machine of death thundered over him. The sounds of screeching wheels and the squealing engine pierced his brain and he quickly shoved his fingers into his ears as his body bounced on the blacktop. Having his fingers shoved inside his ears made absolutely no difference to the level of sound which bombarded him. To this day, he claims his fingertips touched each other as he tried to block the sound of death from liquefying his brains.
And then it was over. The plane was a hundred yards up the runway and Michael lay trembling uncontrollably. Jerry and Merle dashed over to him. Michael could see their mouths moving, but his ears did not recognize the sounds they were making. His brain still vibrating, and his heart trying to disentangle itself from his vocal chords, Michael struggled to sit up. His brothers each took an arm and dragged him off the tarmac.
The other boys were aghast. One of them said, “I ain’t risking my life for your stupid club.” The other boys quickly agreed and hurried away before security came back. To this day, Michael is the one and only official member of the “Cooter Patrol”.
(This is a True Story)
As the son of a government contract worker, my father and his family lived in a government compound in American Samoa. Being 16 years old, Dad, (who I will refer to as Michael from now on), was on of the oldest white kids in the compound and in the pecking order, he was top rooster. Michael had two younger brothers and together they ruled the neighborhood.
The summer of ’67 was particularly boring since Michael and his brothers weren’t allowed to get jobs. They had an immense amount of time on their hands and on a small island, such as American Samoa, it didn’t take very long for them to find trouble.
Several other younger teenage males in the compound looked up to Michael and wanted desperately to belong to his “gang”. Michael, however, was very selective with who he hung out with. These other boys weren’t exactly his cut of beef. However, he couldn’t think of an easy way to get rid of these unwanted tag-alongs. So, Dad started the Cooter Patrol Gang and held initiations.
The first thing the new recruits had to do was steal license plates. See, there are only 3 types of licenses in Samoa. Cargo and/or Passenger. It was a cargo plate if it had a capital C at the beginning and a passenger plate if it had a P. It was the Buses that had the treasured CP on it’s plates. Thus, Cooter Patrol. Of course, Michael wasn’t above performing the initiation himself and soon had a Cargo Plate tacked to the makeshift clubhouse in the jungle behind the compound.
A few days later, several more CP plates appeared on the wall of the club house. That was too easy, thought Michael. After much thought, an idea came to mind. An idea so diabolical, that it would surely weed out the weak-willed, yellow-bellied, toad eating scum who thought they were worthy enough to hang out with Michael.
Michael sent out word to all the wannabes to meet him at the Tafuna Airport at midnight.
American Samoa has only one airport. And it’s tiny. If there were initiations for pilots, landing a Boeing 727 in Samoa had to be it. The runway is very short and ends at the edge of a cliff overlooking the thrashing, chaotic ocean that could pulverize a plane in minutes against the jagged edges of the reef below its frothing, white foam.
Michael arrived with his two younger brothers, Jerry and Merle and hid in the jungle alongside the runway. As midnight approached, Michael awaited the arrival of security which was tasked with driving up and down the runway in an old beat up station wagon, clearing away coconut tree fronds, wild pigs, and other debris.
Soon, the other boys arrived and hunkered down in the shrubbery. The expressions on their faces were mixed curiosity and trepidation – as they had no idea what Michael was going to do. Michael had smeared black shoe polish on his face, dressed in black and tucked his fiery red hair under a black stocking cap.
The boys waited in the bushes while the sun melted into the watery horizon, casting a velvety blue cloak over the tropical sky. Security arrived as the boys waited for them to do their runway clean up.
Once security had made its rounds, Michael snuck from the bushes and made for the center of the runway a few yards from the edge of the cliff.
The other boys watched in wonderment as the reality of what Michael was attempting began to dawn on them. This would be the final initiation for the other boys before they could officially join the Cooter Patrol.
Michael lay down on his belly on the tarmac which still held the heat of the summer tropic sun. He quickly realized that if he lay on his belly – he’d be unable to see the approaching airplane. He flipped over to his back and looked toward the horizon where he could just make out the approaching headlights of the 727.
He took in long deep breaths to calm his racing heart and glanced over at the edge of the runaway where his brothers and the other boys waited and watched in mute anticipation. The plane was approaching rapidly and as Michael looked up, he saw to his horror that the plane was not coming in straight and sure as he thought planes did when looking at them land from the side. The plane was veering from side to side as it navigated its landing – forcing Michael to shift his body first one way then the other as he tried to line himself up with the center of the plane between the wheels. He knew that the back two wheels would hit the tarmac first before the center wheel.
But as that plane approached, getting lower and lower, veering from side to side, Michael knew he had made a mortal error in judgment and that this wasn’t the best idea of his short 16 years.
The wheels struck the tarmac, the engines reversed and every cell in his body screamed in terror as the monstrous machine of death thundered over him. The sounds of screeching wheels and the squealing engine pierced his brain and he quickly shoved his fingers into his ears as his body bounced on the blacktop. Having his fingers shoved inside his ears made absolutely no difference to the level of sound which bombarded him. To this day, he claims his fingertips touched each other as he tried to block the sound of death from liquefying his brains.
And then it was over. The plane was a hundred yards up the runway and Michael lay trembling uncontrollably. Jerry and Merle dashed over to him. Michael could see their mouths moving, but his ears did not recognize the sounds they were making. His brain still vibrating, and his heart trying to disentangle itself from his vocal chords, Michael struggled to sit up. His brothers each took an arm and dragged him off the tarmac.
The other boys were aghast. One of them said, “I ain’t risking my life for your stupid club.” The other boys quickly agreed and hurried away before security came back. To this day, Michael is the one and only official member of the “Cooter Patrol”.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Social Skills for Aspies and Neuro-Typicals
I spent two hours, last Tuesday, at Dr. B’s office as the boys attended Social Group led by Amber, Dr. B’s assistant. Not at the same time, of course. M is in the older group and he went first. The Social Group gives Asperger Kids the chance to learn social skills and is moderated by Amber who gently guides them in their interactions. Which I believe even Neuro-typical kids could benefit from instead of stumbling around and trying to figure it out on their own on the playground.
While M was in his Social Group, my younger two sons, B and J were in an adjoining office playing with toys while my husband and I attended a parent support group in the waiting room. Our parent support group was led by a woman named Lorie, who is a professional in the field of autism.
Lori related to us her experience at a recent conference for Autism. One of the speakers had said, “What do you call a group of ten teenage boys, tackling a kid with Aspergers and expelling an entire can of air freshener on him?” We were silent as we waited for Lorie to continue, wondering what kind of joke this was going to be.
“Natural consequences,” Lori delivered the punch line with a grim face. We responded in disgust. She summarized the message of that particular conference speaker; We, as parents need to hold our autistic children’s feet to the fire and force them to adapt to Neuro-Typical standards on social interaction. A sort of, survival of the fittest, if you will.
Our response was outrage. Lori quickly soothed us and revealed that she did not hold to that line of thinking and she ended up leaving that session of the conference just as disgusted as we were. But she warned us that there were professionals in the field of autism that do believe autistic kids need to take their lumps if they ever hope to fit into society, by forcing them to forsake their uniqueness in order to be considered acceptable.
This revelation gave my husband and me lots to think about. I wondered if exposing my sons to bully’s who didn’t like the way they thought or acted would be in their best interest. The thought sickened me. Are we a civilized society or not? There are other methods to achieving the same goal, I’m sure.
While participating in the Parent Support Group, we were introduced to the concept of the Floortime Approach created by Stanley Greenspan who devoted his life’s work to children’s development. He also wrote the book Engaging Autism, which Lori highly recommended.
We also shared stories of our interactions with our Aspie kids, and laughed at the similarities. Lori has an Aspie son and it was refreshing to know that she too, becomes frustrated sometimes with her child. I didn’t feel like such a horrible parent for struggling with figuring out my children. Disciplining an Aspie child is challenging. I learned that in order to get across to the Aspie child that their behavior is unacceptable (such as picking at the dog’s sore paw) you just have to repeat yourself in a very detailed way several times. Telling my child “No,” just once, is not enough. Unless I explain in detail why the poor behavior is unacceptable and the consequences thereof, my sons will continue in their behavior pattern. And I have to repeat myself multiple times throughout the day, and through the next and so on. We had to give away a few of our pets because our Aspies couldn’t understand why they weren’t allowed to jump on them, pull their tails, or throw them down the stairs. Before the diagnoses of high functioning autism, I thought my sons were born to be naturally cruel. I had envisioned their future lives behind bars! Now I know that autistic kids lack the capacity of empathy. So, we’ve been working on developing a sense of empathy by role playing and constant repetition of what is expected of them.
While M was in his Social Group, my younger two sons, B and J were in an adjoining office playing with toys while my husband and I attended a parent support group in the waiting room. Our parent support group was led by a woman named Lorie, who is a professional in the field of autism.
Lori related to us her experience at a recent conference for Autism. One of the speakers had said, “What do you call a group of ten teenage boys, tackling a kid with Aspergers and expelling an entire can of air freshener on him?” We were silent as we waited for Lorie to continue, wondering what kind of joke this was going to be.
“Natural consequences,” Lori delivered the punch line with a grim face. We responded in disgust. She summarized the message of that particular conference speaker; We, as parents need to hold our autistic children’s feet to the fire and force them to adapt to Neuro-Typical standards on social interaction. A sort of, survival of the fittest, if you will.
Our response was outrage. Lori quickly soothed us and revealed that she did not hold to that line of thinking and she ended up leaving that session of the conference just as disgusted as we were. But she warned us that there were professionals in the field of autism that do believe autistic kids need to take their lumps if they ever hope to fit into society, by forcing them to forsake their uniqueness in order to be considered acceptable.
This revelation gave my husband and me lots to think about. I wondered if exposing my sons to bully’s who didn’t like the way they thought or acted would be in their best interest. The thought sickened me. Are we a civilized society or not? There are other methods to achieving the same goal, I’m sure.
While participating in the Parent Support Group, we were introduced to the concept of the Floortime Approach created by Stanley Greenspan who devoted his life’s work to children’s development. He also wrote the book Engaging Autism, which Lori highly recommended.
We also shared stories of our interactions with our Aspie kids, and laughed at the similarities. Lori has an Aspie son and it was refreshing to know that she too, becomes frustrated sometimes with her child. I didn’t feel like such a horrible parent for struggling with figuring out my children. Disciplining an Aspie child is challenging. I learned that in order to get across to the Aspie child that their behavior is unacceptable (such as picking at the dog’s sore paw) you just have to repeat yourself in a very detailed way several times. Telling my child “No,” just once, is not enough. Unless I explain in detail why the poor behavior is unacceptable and the consequences thereof, my sons will continue in their behavior pattern. And I have to repeat myself multiple times throughout the day, and through the next and so on. We had to give away a few of our pets because our Aspies couldn’t understand why they weren’t allowed to jump on them, pull their tails, or throw them down the stairs. Before the diagnoses of high functioning autism, I thought my sons were born to be naturally cruel. I had envisioned their future lives behind bars! Now I know that autistic kids lack the capacity of empathy. So, we’ve been working on developing a sense of empathy by role playing and constant repetition of what is expected of them.
Monday, February 28, 2011
I'm moving!
To Wordpress that is. My web-designer insisted I make the move - so there I am headed. So, if you'd care to follow me to http://www.jenniferhurst.com/ you'll find the link to my blog and we'll continue the adventures there!
Thanks for reading and visiting!
Thanks for reading and visiting!
Monday's with SPD: What is Stereognosis?
“Huh?” was my first intelligent response when Diane, the occupational therapist who works on my children’s sensory needs, explained Stereognosis to me. She had to repeat herself as I was confused and apparently it was obvious on my very expressive face (don’t ask me to play poker).
“Stereognosis is the ability to identify an object by touch,” she said simply. It’s not that I didn’t understand her the first time – it’s just that the whole concept of not being able to tell what an object is by only feeling it was a whole new concept in regards to my children’s sensory issues. Besides that, the word itself is strange and I had to repeat it to myself several times and have her spell it for me so I could pronounce it correctly.
“So what do you do for it?” I asked, wide-eyed as I tried to imagine what kind of games and activities she must have in her bag of tricks.
She smiled knowingly and produced a large wad of green goop, the kind you find in the toy department. It’s not the slimy, slippery kind. It’s more like play dough that sticks together and doesn’t easily pull apart. Inside she had hidden several small cubes with letters on each side (like the game Boggle). Diane gave the wad of goop to my second son who worked to get each of the cubes out. It took him several minutes, but eventually he found ten cubes. With those ten cubes, Diane helped him spell the word HERMIT CRAB, and then he wrote the word down on a sheet of lined paper.
As a supplemental activity to help the boys develop their sense of stereognosis, Diane suggested using a shoebox filled with rice and hide objects inside. The boys are to try and identify the object before they extract it from the box. My boys love this game. But I’ve learned that it’s best played on a bed sheet because rice gets all over the place and it’s easier to clean up afterwards by just grasping the four corners and funneling it back into the shoebox.
Next time: Handwriting games
Monday, February 14, 2011
Monday's with SPD: Chewy Sticks, Fuzzy Pom-Poms, and sucking yogurt through a straw
Diane handed me a long list of items that she suggested I use for my 2nd son who craves oral sensory stimulation. I cringed at the long list of sugary chewy items, such as gummies, Atomic Balls, Sour Candies, etc. But, then I came to the non-edible items and felt much better. Things like the plastic tubing you use in an aquarium or for your refrigerator's water dispenser is perfect for chewing on. I purchased a two foot long piece from a local hardware store and after sanitizing it, cut some of it into 3 inch lengths and the rest in 6" inch lengths.
The 3 inch pieces I stuck on the ends of the pencils, as both my boys are wont to chew the ends off, including the metal part, and the rest I stuck in a kitchen drawer to hand out when I notice my 2nd start to chew on his shirt sleeves or suck his thumb. My first son isn't so needy now, but he was a die-hard thunmbsucker for years before we got a habit appliance to get him to stop. If only I had known about SPD when he was littler. Both of my boys are Hyposensitive.
The other items on the list included:
How do you know if your child has an Oral Sensory need? This website (http://www.sensory-processing-disorder.com/) has been a great resource for me and the following is from that website.
Oral Sensitivities:
When talking about children with SPD, we refer to two different types of oral sensitivities... hypersensitivity and hyposensitivity.
As you may have already seen from the Sensory Processing Disorders Checklist, children with oral hypersensitivities - also called oral defensiveness - will exhibit many, or all, of the following characteristics:
dislikes having teeth brushed and/or face washed
has a limited food repertoire and/or may avoid certain food textures - especially mixed textures
will take their food off the fork or spoon using only their teeth, keeping their lips retracted
will gag easily when eating and may only get food down by taking a drink with it
may exhibit signs of tactile defensiveness such as; disliking being touched, avoiding messy play - glue, play doh, mud, sand, finger paints, etc. - , or, may not pick up eating utensil or food with a grasp that involves the palm of his hand
In Contrast, Children With Hyposensitivities Will Exhibit Many, Or All, Of The Following Characteristics:
they love and crave intense flavors, i.e., sweet, sour, salty, spicy and usually become "condiment kids"
may actually avoid mixed textures as well since it is difficult to chew and swallow properly when you can't "feel" the food in your mouth correctly
they are the messy eaters; getting food all over their face and/or leaving bits of food in their mouths at the end of a meal
they often take large bites and stuff their mouths, or even "pocket" food in their cheeks
are inclined to not chew their food thoroughly before swallowing (at risk for choking)
drool excessively beyond the teething stage
and, they always seem to have something in their mouths; toys, pens, pencil tips, gum, candy, or inedible objects (i.e., paper clips, rubber bands, shirt sleeves and collars, strings...anything!)
The 3 inch pieces I stuck on the ends of the pencils, as both my boys are wont to chew the ends off, including the metal part, and the rest I stuck in a kitchen drawer to hand out when I notice my 2nd start to chew on his shirt sleeves or suck his thumb. My first son isn't so needy now, but he was a die-hard thunmbsucker for years before we got a habit appliance to get him to stop. If only I had known about SPD when he was littler. Both of my boys are Hyposensitive.
The other items on the list included:
- Vibrating Toothbrush (which I gave them for Christmas - love it!)
- Crunchy fruits and veggies
- Sucking yogurt through a straw (but since we deal with allergies - Diane showed us how to play a game with fuzzy pom-poms you get from a craft store. Suck up a pom-pom on the end of a straw and crawl across the floor to drop it into a container. Repeat).
- Blowing bubbles
How do you know if your child has an Oral Sensory need? This website (http://www.sensory-processing-disorder.com/) has been a great resource for me and the following is from that website.
Oral Sensitivities:
Signs, Symptoms, Causes, And Treatment
When talking about children with SPD, we refer to two different types of oral sensitivities... hypersensitivity and hyposensitivity.
As you may have already seen from the Sensory Processing Disorders Checklist, children with oral hypersensitivities - also called oral defensiveness - will exhibit many, or all, of the following characteristics:
In Contrast, Children With Hyposensitivities Will Exhibit Many, Or All, Of The Following Characteristics:
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Aloha Fridays: "No, Dad. It's ALL wet!"
Easter Sunday, 1992.
Amouli, American Samoa
My 9 year old brother, Rick (not his real name), woke up bright and early Easter Sunday with a very important message for my parents.
"Dad," he said as he approached my parent's bed. Dad cracked an eye to peer at Rick.
"What?" he groaned.
"My bed is wet," Rick whispered.
"Just put a towel over it and go back to bed," Dad grumped and rolled over to go back to sleep.
"No, Dad. It's ALL wet," Rick persisted.
Dad groaned and wondered how much water the kid had drunk the night before. How could his whole bed be wet? Dad sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Splash - splash.
"What the . . .?" Dad stared in shock at the 4 inches of water covering the floor. In his half-sleep state, he gawked at Rick as if somehow this child was responsible for the amount of water on the floor. As soon as Dad's neuron's started firing correctly, he realized this wasn't a matter of an over active bladder, but the result of excessive rain on the mountain behind us that had sent a flash flood through our house.
I was asleep on my large purple pillow of a mat on the floor by the front door when Dad came into the living room hollering at us to get up that we had been flooded. Drowsily, I threw an arm over the puffy side of my mat and splashed water with my open hand. It woke me up instantly and by the time I had gotten to my feet, the rest of my siblings were awake and exclaiming in excitement over the water.
It was a beautiful day, but when we stepped outside to survey the rest of the village that lay 4 feet lower than our house, a neighbor wallowed through the flood to ask if we were okay. We were indeed better off than most of our neighbors, but all our beds were soaked.
I helped dragged everyone's sleeping pillows out of the house and heaved them onto the clothesline to dry. Then we spent the rest of the morning cleaning the mud and debris out of the house which included water logged rats, hermit crabs, bugs, garbage and the like. Needless to say, the Easter Bunny didn't visit us that year.
Mom tried to come up with something positive about the whole situation, but, I don't remember what it was. I do remember that the younger kids had a blast playing in the muddy water in our front yard.
Amouli, American Samoa
My 9 year old brother, Rick (not his real name), woke up bright and early Easter Sunday with a very important message for my parents.
"Dad," he said as he approached my parent's bed. Dad cracked an eye to peer at Rick.
"What?" he groaned.
"My bed is wet," Rick whispered.
"Just put a towel over it and go back to bed," Dad grumped and rolled over to go back to sleep.
"No, Dad. It's ALL wet," Rick persisted.
Dad groaned and wondered how much water the kid had drunk the night before. How could his whole bed be wet? Dad sat up and swung his feet over the edge of the bed. Splash - splash.
"What the . . .?" Dad stared in shock at the 4 inches of water covering the floor. In his half-sleep state, he gawked at Rick as if somehow this child was responsible for the amount of water on the floor. As soon as Dad's neuron's started firing correctly, he realized this wasn't a matter of an over active bladder, but the result of excessive rain on the mountain behind us that had sent a flash flood through our house.
I was asleep on my large purple pillow of a mat on the floor by the front door when Dad came into the living room hollering at us to get up that we had been flooded. Drowsily, I threw an arm over the puffy side of my mat and splashed water with my open hand. It woke me up instantly and by the time I had gotten to my feet, the rest of my siblings were awake and exclaiming in excitement over the water.
It was a beautiful day, but when we stepped outside to survey the rest of the village that lay 4 feet lower than our house, a neighbor wallowed through the flood to ask if we were okay. We were indeed better off than most of our neighbors, but all our beds were soaked.
I helped dragged everyone's sleeping pillows out of the house and heaved them onto the clothesline to dry. Then we spent the rest of the morning cleaning the mud and debris out of the house which included water logged rats, hermit crabs, bugs, garbage and the like. Needless to say, the Easter Bunny didn't visit us that year.
Mom tried to come up with something positive about the whole situation, but, I don't remember what it was. I do remember that the younger kids had a blast playing in the muddy water in our front yard.
Saturday, February 5, 2011
Wednesday at the Kitchen Table: The best Kitchen Table on the Planet
What does your kitchen table look like? I'm on a quest to see what Kitchen Tables around the world look like. Aren't you curious too? I mean, what does a typical kitchen table look like in Japan? What is served for dinner on it? What about New Guinea? Or Peru? or Bulgaria? or Hawaii?
Send me your photos of your kitchen table laid out with your family's favorite meal or family activity. Tell me where you are from and share a recipe! I'm looking for Kitchen Tables from around the world - won't you share yours with us? I'd like to see some celebrity kitchen tables, too. No Martha Stewart wannabees please. Just your typical meal or family activity on your Kitchen Table.
Send your photo (and recipes if you wish) to me at jc_hurst AT comcast DOT net.
Until next time, eat well, be well and be happy!
Send me your photos of your kitchen table laid out with your family's favorite meal or family activity. Tell me where you are from and share a recipe! I'm looking for Kitchen Tables from around the world - won't you share yours with us? I'd like to see some celebrity kitchen tables, too. No Martha Stewart wannabees please. Just your typical meal or family activity on your Kitchen Table.
Send your photo (and recipes if you wish) to me at jc_hurst AT comcast DOT net.
Until next time, eat well, be well and be happy!
Tuesdays Review: FORD 2011 Explorer
My recent dream car was the 2011 Honda Odyssey. No more. After my husband brought home the 2011 Ford Explorer from work to try out for a few weeks, its goodbye Honda, helloooo Fordykins! That's my pet name for this gorgeous vehicle - Fordykins.
I am by no means a car expert. I don't know a head gasket from a transmission case, let alone know where to put the oil after I've undipped the oil tester thingy. All I do know is how to use the pedals and turn the wheel and if you show me where to put the gas, I'm good to go.
So, in climbing behind the wheel of this sleek, wide, black vehicle, the first impression I had was I felt so skinny. There is ALOT of elbow room in there. You could put three of me in the driver's seat. I wonder if Ford is trying to accommodate the extra large American market. I'm a medium sized American (the equivalent of an overweight European).
Then of course, I turned it on. I could hardly hear the motor. I put in in reverse and all of a sudden a screen on the console above the gear shifter came alive to show me what was behind me as I backed out. In color, no less, with guidelines. Sweet, I thought.
It handled beautifully. I didn't feel like I was driving a huge monstrous tank, even though it seats 7. My kids had plenty of room in the back to stretch out and nobody could complain about someone else touching them. I had to use the seat adjuster to lift me higher so I could see over the dashboard, but the seats are comfortable and heated too! And get this, the passenger and driver each get their own climate controlled area. So, my husband isn't forced to endure the furnace I like to be in when outside in this bleak winter weather.
The only thing I had an issue with, is the humongous amount of computerized gadgets and gizmos this thing has. It is literally a moving computer that can send and receive emails, and even read them to you. Once, when my husband took us on an errand and ran inside a building to meet with a business contact for a few minutes, I decided to change the station on the radio. After staring at the computer screen on the dashboard for 5 minutes, I noticed buttons on the steering wheel and remembered I could control the volume and stations of the radio there. I figured, why not, since the steering wheel had fewer buttons to push than the console, so I started pushing buttons and all of a sudden, a telephone ring filled the car. I glanced at the computer screen as the ring sounded again and to my horror the screen showed I was calling one of my husband's business associates.
"Where's the off button!" I cried as my kids started laughing, thinking it absolutely funny that the car was like a giant cell phone and Mom couldn't figure out how to cancel the call. I don't know which button I pushed to cancel it, but I disconnected before anyone answered. I never did figure out how to operate the radio. I guess I'll have to let my husband control the radio. The Ford Explorer does have a really neat gadget that I really like. You can plug your iPhone into the car and play Pandora. The vehicle has fantastic acoustics.
Overall, I was very delighted with the Ford 2011 Explorer. My husband says it gets great mileage for a vehicle its size. I don't care, he buys the gas, I just play chauffeur and if I have to spend hours in a car, I'd rather spend it in comfort. Now, if only it had a a self cleaning option with a built in fridge and microwave. Or, better yet, an auto pilot, so I can get my naps in before swim lessons.
I give the Ford 2011 Explorer, the Unicorn Award.
I am by no means a car expert. I don't know a head gasket from a transmission case, let alone know where to put the oil after I've undipped the oil tester thingy. All I do know is how to use the pedals and turn the wheel and if you show me where to put the gas, I'm good to go.
So, in climbing behind the wheel of this sleek, wide, black vehicle, the first impression I had was I felt so skinny. There is ALOT of elbow room in there. You could put three of me in the driver's seat. I wonder if Ford is trying to accommodate the extra large American market. I'm a medium sized American (the equivalent of an overweight European).
Then of course, I turned it on. I could hardly hear the motor. I put in in reverse and all of a sudden a screen on the console above the gear shifter came alive to show me what was behind me as I backed out. In color, no less, with guidelines. Sweet, I thought.
It handled beautifully. I didn't feel like I was driving a huge monstrous tank, even though it seats 7. My kids had plenty of room in the back to stretch out and nobody could complain about someone else touching them. I had to use the seat adjuster to lift me higher so I could see over the dashboard, but the seats are comfortable and heated too! And get this, the passenger and driver each get their own climate controlled area. So, my husband isn't forced to endure the furnace I like to be in when outside in this bleak winter weather.
The only thing I had an issue with, is the humongous amount of computerized gadgets and gizmos this thing has. It is literally a moving computer that can send and receive emails, and even read them to you. Once, when my husband took us on an errand and ran inside a building to meet with a business contact for a few minutes, I decided to change the station on the radio. After staring at the computer screen on the dashboard for 5 minutes, I noticed buttons on the steering wheel and remembered I could control the volume and stations of the radio there. I figured, why not, since the steering wheel had fewer buttons to push than the console, so I started pushing buttons and all of a sudden, a telephone ring filled the car. I glanced at the computer screen as the ring sounded again and to my horror the screen showed I was calling one of my husband's business associates.
"Where's the off button!" I cried as my kids started laughing, thinking it absolutely funny that the car was like a giant cell phone and Mom couldn't figure out how to cancel the call. I don't know which button I pushed to cancel it, but I disconnected before anyone answered. I never did figure out how to operate the radio. I guess I'll have to let my husband control the radio. The Ford Explorer does have a really neat gadget that I really like. You can plug your iPhone into the car and play Pandora. The vehicle has fantastic acoustics.
Overall, I was very delighted with the Ford 2011 Explorer. My husband says it gets great mileage for a vehicle its size. I don't care, he buys the gas, I just play chauffeur and if I have to spend hours in a car, I'd rather spend it in comfort. Now, if only it had a a self cleaning option with a built in fridge and microwave. Or, better yet, an auto pilot, so I can get my naps in before swim lessons.
I give the Ford 2011 Explorer, the Unicorn Award.
Mondays with SPD: Lets shake the house down!
"How loud can you jump?" Diane, our Occupational Therapist, challenged my three boys. My boys literally jumped on the opportunity to try and break the sound barrier on my hardwood floors. After a few floor jarring moments of hard jumping, Diane challenged them to "make the room bigger" by pushing on the walls. My 7 year old was convinced he had managed to make my living room a few feet wider all by himself.
Why, might you ask, are my children trying to bring my house down? Well, as Diane explained, these exercises are great for the Proprioceptive stimulation, both for Sensory Seekers and Sensory Avoiders, of which I am mother to both.
I'm struggling to keep up with the deep pressure brushing and joint compressions every four hours for both the boys. I have noticed a big difference in their behaviour when I do manage to do the DPBs and JCs. Bed time is easier, they are more calm and relaxed, and there is less "bothersome activity" that the boys engage in to peeve one another.
I'm looking into dietary changes as my second son has a sensitive system and Diane said that SPD kids tend to have weak muscle tone inside and out. So, digestion is a bit of a problem, which would explain the tummy aches after certain meals. Diane suggested pro-biotics which can be purchased at health food stores.
Why, might you ask, are my children trying to bring my house down? Well, as Diane explained, these exercises are great for the Proprioceptive stimulation, both for Sensory Seekers and Sensory Avoiders, of which I am mother to both.
I'm struggling to keep up with the deep pressure brushing and joint compressions every four hours for both the boys. I have noticed a big difference in their behaviour when I do manage to do the DPBs and JCs. Bed time is easier, they are more calm and relaxed, and there is less "bothersome activity" that the boys engage in to peeve one another.
I'm looking into dietary changes as my second son has a sensitive system and Diane said that SPD kids tend to have weak muscle tone inside and out. So, digestion is a bit of a problem, which would explain the tummy aches after certain meals. Diane suggested pro-biotics which can be purchased at health food stores.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Wednesday at the Kitchen Table: Jacks anyone?
Old fashioned games can be some of the best teaching tools. Take Jacks, for instance. I'm sure some of you remember those little metal multi-pointed, landmines with the bouncy red ball we played with as kids. Well, I found a set of Jacks made from plastic and were about ten times bigger. Coupled with an idea I had from watching my toddler play a game on http://www.pbskids.com/ I came up with a game that I believe is better than anything a child can play on-line. And the reason being is because my child is interacting with me, not the computer.
The Jacks come in a variety of colors and the first thing we did was learn those colors. I would throw the ball up and call a color and my 3 year old would grab the colored Jack I named before I caught the ball after one bounce. It's great fun. The interaction between my child and I involve laughter, cuddles, tickles, communication, and learning colors. You can add variety to this game by substituting plastic alphabet magnets and numbers. You could even write simple two and three letter words on index cards.
Best of all, I get to spend time with my kid and he'll remember the fun times we had together, over the time he spent in front of the computer. Don't get me wrong, computers are great tools for education, but it is a tool and not a substitute for being a parent.
Until next time, hug your kids and play!
The Jacks come in a variety of colors and the first thing we did was learn those colors. I would throw the ball up and call a color and my 3 year old would grab the colored Jack I named before I caught the ball after one bounce. It's great fun. The interaction between my child and I involve laughter, cuddles, tickles, communication, and learning colors. You can add variety to this game by substituting plastic alphabet magnets and numbers. You could even write simple two and three letter words on index cards.
Best of all, I get to spend time with my kid and he'll remember the fun times we had together, over the time he spent in front of the computer. Don't get me wrong, computers are great tools for education, but it is a tool and not a substitute for being a parent.
Until next time, hug your kids and play!
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
Tuesday Reviews: Tahitian Fitness Class
I just returned from a fun and exhilarating workout. It was the best workout I've had in a few years and I'm going to feel it tomorrow. A Hawaiian friend of mine invited me to attend a Tahitian Dance Fitness class and I was a bit leery at first since I know how fast and intense the dancing can be.
The last time I did a Tahitian dance was for my second grade class May Day program in Hawaii. And I well remember my teacher, Mrs. Mo'o scowling at me as I tried to shake it up. "Lift those heels!" she'd bark at us. Of course, all the Polynesian girls got it naturally. It's genetic I think. I had seen plenty of Polynesian dancing growing up in the South Pacific, so I just squeezed my eyes shut and shook my little hips as fast as I could and I suppose that was sufficient for Mrs. Mo'o to let me be one of the lead dancers to go around the mayday pole and dance in front.
So, back to this class. There were about 24 of us and I'm pretty sure I was the only Haole there. Although, there was another lady there that looked about as white as me. We were upstairs in a dance studio and the instructor came in wearing a red pareo (lava lava) and started the music right off without any preamble. The room shuddered with the beat of the drums and she started shaking those hips. I have to say, Tahitian dancing is sexy. It's aggressive and sensual at the same time. I soon got the hang of it, but because the music was so loud, I couldn't hear her instructions at all. She wasn't very personable. I guess I expected her to make the rounds and give us encouragement and tips for getting the shaking just right. I couldn't see my rear end to know if I was doing it right. I kept wanting her to tell me if my hip action was acceptable. And of course, I had flashbacks of Mrs. Mo'o's frown as she watched me turn circles trying to get my hips to cooperate with her instructions.
A girl I met there, who attends another Hula fitness class, commented that she felt that this lady was doing advanced moves despite the fact that this was a free introductory class and that most of us seemed to be new. I didn't know. I was just doing my best to keep up.
I've heard that Zumba is a hip shaking kind of fitness class, but, I daresay the Tahitian Dancing is better. From what I could tell and the comments made by other Polynesians there, the instructor was doing a lot of traditional Tahitian moves that have been around for hundreds of years.
It was a fantastic workout, and I'm exhausted, but I can't give this class much more than a Fairy Godmother Award. This class would be great for moderately experienced dancers and above, but not brand new people. But it's worth it to try it at least once.
The reasons for the award are:
And the location of the Tahitian Dance Fitness class is: LA Dance Company (Tehamata of Utah) 4797 South West Ridge Boulevard (5950 West) WVC, UT
Note to rating system:
Unicorn: Excellent
Fairy Godmother: Good
Fairy: Fair
Goblin: Horrible
The last time I did a Tahitian dance was for my second grade class May Day program in Hawaii. And I well remember my teacher, Mrs. Mo'o scowling at me as I tried to shake it up. "Lift those heels!" she'd bark at us. Of course, all the Polynesian girls got it naturally. It's genetic I think. I had seen plenty of Polynesian dancing growing up in the South Pacific, so I just squeezed my eyes shut and shook my little hips as fast as I could and I suppose that was sufficient for Mrs. Mo'o to let me be one of the lead dancers to go around the mayday pole and dance in front.
So, back to this class. There were about 24 of us and I'm pretty sure I was the only Haole there. Although, there was another lady there that looked about as white as me. We were upstairs in a dance studio and the instructor came in wearing a red pareo (lava lava) and started the music right off without any preamble. The room shuddered with the beat of the drums and she started shaking those hips. I have to say, Tahitian dancing is sexy. It's aggressive and sensual at the same time. I soon got the hang of it, but because the music was so loud, I couldn't hear her instructions at all. She wasn't very personable. I guess I expected her to make the rounds and give us encouragement and tips for getting the shaking just right. I couldn't see my rear end to know if I was doing it right. I kept wanting her to tell me if my hip action was acceptable. And of course, I had flashbacks of Mrs. Mo'o's frown as she watched me turn circles trying to get my hips to cooperate with her instructions.
A girl I met there, who attends another Hula fitness class, commented that she felt that this lady was doing advanced moves despite the fact that this was a free introductory class and that most of us seemed to be new. I didn't know. I was just doing my best to keep up.
I've heard that Zumba is a hip shaking kind of fitness class, but, I daresay the Tahitian Dancing is better. From what I could tell and the comments made by other Polynesians there, the instructor was doing a lot of traditional Tahitian moves that have been around for hundreds of years.
It was a fantastic workout, and I'm exhausted, but I can't give this class much more than a Fairy Godmother Award. This class would be great for moderately experienced dancers and above, but not brand new people. But it's worth it to try it at least once.
The reasons for the award are:
- The instructor wasn't very friendly.
- I couldn't hear her at all over the music
- Her moves were complicated and changed quickly.
And the location of the Tahitian Dance Fitness class is: LA Dance Company (Tehamata of Utah) 4797 South West Ridge Boulevard (5950 West) WVC, UT
Note to rating system:
Unicorn: Excellent
Fairy Godmother: Good
Fairy: Fair
Goblin: Horrible
Monday, January 24, 2011
Mondays with SPD: The Burrito game
Our visit last week with the Occupational Therapist was very informative as we worked more on creating a sensory diet for my sons. She also brought over a dozen thick foam gym mats to line the wall and floor in a corner of our basement for the boys to tumble around on. We're slowly converting our basement into a sensory gymnasium and having the mats was a great addition.
Diane showed us another activity the boys could do to meet their sensory needs. It's called the Burrito game (or taco, or sandwich - whichever you like). She demonstrated the game by rolling my son snug in a blanket and had him lie face down as she applied "ingredients" to the Burrito. He'd call out cheese, and using a large rubber ball, she'd bounce the ball up and down his back and legs. "Refried Beans" he'd call out next and she'd roll the ball in a scooping motion across his back and legs. She'd use a variety of actions, but she was firm with the ball and always checked with my son to see if the pressure was too much or too little, or just right. What is nice about this game, is that the boys can play it with each other.
We've established a bedtime routine and WOW, what a difference that makes when we incorporate warm baths, joint compressions, deep pressure brushing and the burrito game right before bed. The boys were mellow, and completely agreeable. They went to bed without a fuss; there was no hollering about monsters and zombies, no bickering over blankets and toys - they just went to bed, and zonked out! It takes about an hour, but so worth it. But as I think about it, an hour of doing the SPD diet requirements is worth two hours of chaos before bed.
Diane showed us another activity the boys could do to meet their sensory needs. It's called the Burrito game (or taco, or sandwich - whichever you like). She demonstrated the game by rolling my son snug in a blanket and had him lie face down as she applied "ingredients" to the Burrito. He'd call out cheese, and using a large rubber ball, she'd bounce the ball up and down his back and legs. "Refried Beans" he'd call out next and she'd roll the ball in a scooping motion across his back and legs. She'd use a variety of actions, but she was firm with the ball and always checked with my son to see if the pressure was too much or too little, or just right. What is nice about this game, is that the boys can play it with each other.
We've established a bedtime routine and WOW, what a difference that makes when we incorporate warm baths, joint compressions, deep pressure brushing and the burrito game right before bed. The boys were mellow, and completely agreeable. They went to bed without a fuss; there was no hollering about monsters and zombies, no bickering over blankets and toys - they just went to bed, and zonked out! It takes about an hour, but so worth it. But as I think about it, an hour of doing the SPD diet requirements is worth two hours of chaos before bed.
Friday, January 21, 2011
Aloha Fridays: Chicken Traps - the story continues
This post is a continuation of my previous post from last Friday's story of A rat, a soup can, and the clothesline.
In the hurricane house my parents moved into when they first arrived in American Samoa in 1977, the back wall had rotted away and the thin bottom kitchen cupboard doors served as the only barrier between the outside jungle and us.
During the night the house became infested with rats and mice who managed to squirm their way into the house while we slept. Some ventured out during the daylight hours, only to be accosted by shrill screams and a smack with the business end of a broom.
My parents decided to wage war against the varmints. But because they had three young children under the age of 5 roaming about the house, they decided to take the war to the rats and mice in the surrounding jungle. It would not do to wage a war with the rat and mice by setting traps inside the house where tender little toes and fingers could get hurt.
So one evening before bedtime, my father and mother booby-trapped the backyard with rat traps where the rodents travelled by night to come into our house through the rotted wall.
The following morning they were awakened by the strangest noises coming from the back yard. Peeking out the backdoor, they discovered several chickens had set off the rat traps and were thrashing about in panic. Well, as you might have expected, you can't mend a chicken's leg. And these chickens belonged to the neighbor down the way a bit.
The nieghbor came by when he heard the commotion and put the poor creatures out of their misery. They had chicken for supper that night and the next.
Undaunted, my parents continued with their diabolical plans of eliminating every rodent in the village of Auasi. And, once again, in the morning, they found chickens in the rat traps. The neighbors had to eat chicken again.
Mom and Dad eventually decided that in order to stay on friendly terms with the neighbors, they would have to stop killing their chickens and figure out another way to destroy the rats and mice.
But that is another story.....
In the hurricane house my parents moved into when they first arrived in American Samoa in 1977, the back wall had rotted away and the thin bottom kitchen cupboard doors served as the only barrier between the outside jungle and us.
During the night the house became infested with rats and mice who managed to squirm their way into the house while we slept. Some ventured out during the daylight hours, only to be accosted by shrill screams and a smack with the business end of a broom.
My parents decided to wage war against the varmints. But because they had three young children under the age of 5 roaming about the house, they decided to take the war to the rats and mice in the surrounding jungle. It would not do to wage a war with the rat and mice by setting traps inside the house where tender little toes and fingers could get hurt.
So one evening before bedtime, my father and mother booby-trapped the backyard with rat traps where the rodents travelled by night to come into our house through the rotted wall.
The following morning they were awakened by the strangest noises coming from the back yard. Peeking out the backdoor, they discovered several chickens had set off the rat traps and were thrashing about in panic. Well, as you might have expected, you can't mend a chicken's leg. And these chickens belonged to the neighbor down the way a bit.
The nieghbor came by when he heard the commotion and put the poor creatures out of their misery. They had chicken for supper that night and the next.
Undaunted, my parents continued with their diabolical plans of eliminating every rodent in the village of Auasi. And, once again, in the morning, they found chickens in the rat traps. The neighbors had to eat chicken again.
Mom and Dad eventually decided that in order to stay on friendly terms with the neighbors, they would have to stop killing their chickens and figure out another way to destroy the rats and mice.
But that is another story.....
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Wednesday at the Kitchen Table: Ice Fossils
A lot of the games and activities that we enjoy are things my kids come up with on their own. I am just the facilitator that guides them in their play and provide the equipment for the explorations.
Ice Fossils is an activity that my 9 year old son came up with and his two younger brothers also found interesting. It kept them busy for several hours over the course of three days. Please note that this activity is for kids 8 and older. Adult supervision is required for this activity.
Materials needed:
A medium to large plastic container
a small toy
water
a toy hammer (I let them use a mallet I use for tenderizing meat)
a short flat blade screwdriver
a butter knife
a work surface
several kitchen or bath towels
Instructions:
Place a toy in the plastic container and fill with water. Place in freezer until solid.
When the water has frozen, dislodge it from it's container and set on a towel on a table or other work surface. The towel provides a stable surface so the ice doesn't slip around.Change out the towel as the ice melts to keep the work area dry. If it's warm outside, set it on the grass.
Let the child use a butter knife, or hammer and "chisel" to chip away at the ice to get to the "fossil" toy. This activity can be adapted to smaller children. Provide a large bowl full of water and a measuring cup. The child can scoop the warm water out and pour it over the ice to melt it down until the toy "fossil" is revealed.
Ice Fossils is an activity that my 9 year old son came up with and his two younger brothers also found interesting. It kept them busy for several hours over the course of three days. Please note that this activity is for kids 8 and older. Adult supervision is required for this activity.
Materials needed:
A medium to large plastic container
a small toy
water
a toy hammer (I let them use a mallet I use for tenderizing meat)
a short flat blade screwdriver
a butter knife
a work surface
several kitchen or bath towels
Instructions:
Place a toy in the plastic container and fill with water. Place in freezer until solid.
When the water has frozen, dislodge it from it's container and set on a towel on a table or other work surface. The towel provides a stable surface so the ice doesn't slip around.Change out the towel as the ice melts to keep the work area dry. If it's warm outside, set it on the grass.
Let the child use a butter knife, or hammer and "chisel" to chip away at the ice to get to the "fossil" toy. This activity can be adapted to smaller children. Provide a large bowl full of water and a measuring cup. The child can scoop the warm water out and pour it over the ice to melt it down until the toy "fossil" is revealed.
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Tuesday Reviews: Water for Elephants
Last night I was contemplating about what I should review this week. I have already reviewed and given two Unicorn Awards this month and I thought I ought to post something that didn't rate high on my scale (just to balance things out). The only thing I could think of that warranted a poor review was a book I read last year called, Water for Elephants by Sara Gruen.
I read this for my book club. I must say that the book started out wonderfully. I thought I was going to be reading a beautiful literary work about life in the circus during the early part of the twentieth century. It was engaging and entertaining from the get-go.
But then, Ms. Gruen had to throw in some graphic pornographic material which suddenly turned the book into a smutty hide-it-under-the-mattress type of book. It left such a bad feeling within, that I could barely continue reading it.
But I did, and I finished it and I was so bothered by it that I had every intention of writing the author and telling her she ruined a perfectly good book by inserting those useless non-contributing graphic sex scenes. She could have conveyed the same thing in a more tactful way and gotten the meaning across without the gross, sex scenes.
I never did write her, but nonetheless, I was ashamed to keep this book in my library. It's sitting the very top of my book shelf waiting for me to decide what to do with it. I don't want it anywhere my kids can have access to it. I did consider removing the pages of the graphic scenes as they have absolutely nothing to with the main story. The story is just wonderful without it. It's almost like the book editor said, "lets add some really graphic sex stuff and we'll make a few million more on this."
And I just found out they are making a movie based on this book. All and great, I say, as long as they leave the garbage out of it.
Therefore, Water for Elephants gets only the Fairy Award. Barely.
Note to Rating Scale:
Unicorn = Excellent
Fairy Godmother = Good
Fairy = Fair
Goblin = AWFUL!
I read this for my book club. I must say that the book started out wonderfully. I thought I was going to be reading a beautiful literary work about life in the circus during the early part of the twentieth century. It was engaging and entertaining from the get-go.
But then, Ms. Gruen had to throw in some graphic pornographic material which suddenly turned the book into a smutty hide-it-under-the-mattress type of book. It left such a bad feeling within, that I could barely continue reading it.
But I did, and I finished it and I was so bothered by it that I had every intention of writing the author and telling her she ruined a perfectly good book by inserting those useless non-contributing graphic sex scenes. She could have conveyed the same thing in a more tactful way and gotten the meaning across without the gross, sex scenes.
I never did write her, but nonetheless, I was ashamed to keep this book in my library. It's sitting the very top of my book shelf waiting for me to decide what to do with it. I don't want it anywhere my kids can have access to it. I did consider removing the pages of the graphic scenes as they have absolutely nothing to with the main story. The story is just wonderful without it. It's almost like the book editor said, "lets add some really graphic sex stuff and we'll make a few million more on this."
And I just found out they are making a movie based on this book. All and great, I say, as long as they leave the garbage out of it.
Therefore, Water for Elephants gets only the Fairy Award. Barely.
Note to Rating Scale:
Unicorn = Excellent
Fairy Godmother = Good
Fairy = Fair
Goblin = AWFUL!
Monday, January 17, 2011
Mondays with SPD: Are you joking?
I stared at the OT waiting for her to start laughing and say, "I'm just kidding." But she didn't. It took me several seconds to absorb what she just said.
OT: "If you want to see any real progress, you will have to do the deep pressure brushing and joint compressions every two hours for as long as it takes to see a change in their behaviour."
When I had recovered from her pronouncement, I asked. "How long does it usually take to see a change in their behaviour?"
The OT shrugged, "It was several months before my daughter's behaviour changed."
I quickly did the calculations (because I like to crunch numbers for fun) and realized that I would be spending a total of an hour everyday brushing and doing joint compressions for my two SPD children. That is, every two hours, 5 minutes per kid for several months. Well, I consoled myself, it's really just an hour a day. I think I can manage.
Then my OT pointed out that my boys had low muscle tone (meaning, my children "have to worker harder against gravity then the rest of us"), as evidenced by their baby cheeks and winged shoulder blades (the muscles beneath the shoulder blades are weak and don't pull the blades inward against the ribs). But she assured me that she had exercises that would strengthen the muscles.
On inspiration, I asked her if she had anything for bed-wetting problems, and she said, "Get a trampoline. For kids with low muscle tone, it's not uncommon to have weak pelvic floor muscles and jumping on trampolines will strengthen those muscles."
I purchased a mini-trampoline the very next day. I noticed that my sensory seeking (SS) child couldn't get enough of it. He bounced on that thing for a solid 10 minutes before I had to pull him off to give his brother, the sensory avoidance (SA) child, a turn. The SA child lasted about a minute before he claimed he had had enough and he was tired.
So, today begins a regiment of exercises to increase muscle tone and stimulate the senses so that my boys will be calmer, happier, more enjoyable little people.
I've also scheduled a visit to the massage therapist for myself at the end of the week.
OT: "If you want to see any real progress, you will have to do the deep pressure brushing and joint compressions every two hours for as long as it takes to see a change in their behaviour."
When I had recovered from her pronouncement, I asked. "How long does it usually take to see a change in their behaviour?"
The OT shrugged, "It was several months before my daughter's behaviour changed."
I quickly did the calculations (because I like to crunch numbers for fun) and realized that I would be spending a total of an hour everyday brushing and doing joint compressions for my two SPD children. That is, every two hours, 5 minutes per kid for several months. Well, I consoled myself, it's really just an hour a day. I think I can manage.
Then my OT pointed out that my boys had low muscle tone (meaning, my children "have to worker harder against gravity then the rest of us"), as evidenced by their baby cheeks and winged shoulder blades (the muscles beneath the shoulder blades are weak and don't pull the blades inward against the ribs). But she assured me that she had exercises that would strengthen the muscles.
On inspiration, I asked her if she had anything for bed-wetting problems, and she said, "Get a trampoline. For kids with low muscle tone, it's not uncommon to have weak pelvic floor muscles and jumping on trampolines will strengthen those muscles."
I purchased a mini-trampoline the very next day. I noticed that my sensory seeking (SS) child couldn't get enough of it. He bounced on that thing for a solid 10 minutes before I had to pull him off to give his brother, the sensory avoidance (SA) child, a turn. The SA child lasted about a minute before he claimed he had had enough and he was tired.
So, today begins a regiment of exercises to increase muscle tone and stimulate the senses so that my boys will be calmer, happier, more enjoyable little people.
I've also scheduled a visit to the massage therapist for myself at the end of the week.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Aloha Fridays: A rat, a soup can, and the clothes line
In 1977 my parents moved our family to American Samoa. Why they moved there is another story. The stories of how they got themselves settled there are more interesting. And this is one of them.
My parents moved into the house next door to my grandparents in the village of Auasi. The house was of wood construction reinforced on the corners with cement. Being as it was in the tropics, most of the outside wood construction had begun to rot away.
If you were to open the bottom kitchen cabinets you would be able to look out into the backyard because the back wall had rotted away. In the bathroom, the whole floor was gone and someone had laid a piece of plywood across it as a quick fix. I remember being instructed to always ask mom or dad before using the bathroom as one of them would have to escort us safely across the unsteady plywood floor to the toilet or bathtub.
Needless to say, the local rodents had easy access to the house. This wasn't quite the home my mother had envisioned she would be moving into. She had three young children under the age of five, with the youngest just learning to crawl.
One night, after a supper of chicken noodle soup, Mom had left the empty soup can on the counter with the lid still partially attached and tucked inside the can. Later that night, when we were all tucked into bed and asleep, a rat had crawled into the soup can and cleaned out the leftovers. Upon turning itself around to exit the can, it inadvertently dragged the lid with it and got it's tail stuck between the side of the can and the lid. It panicked. It leaped from the counter and crashed to the floor. It then proceeded to bang around the kitchen trying to escape, but the hole it had come it could not accommodate the can it was dragging behind. The noise woke my parents who could not identify what was making such a racket in the kitchen.
My father dashed to the kitchen, flipped on the light which temporarily stunned the creature. Dad snatched the can up with the rat dangling by it's tail, and, not knowing what to do with it, brought it back to my mother to show her.
The rat curled in on itself to try to right itself (I imagine it did not much appreciate being hung upside down by its tail) as my father panicked, "What do I do with it?"
"Kill it!" my mother shouted.
The idea had occurred to my father that he ought to kill it, but he wasn't sure how to do that with a large soup can attached to it.
The only thing my father could think of to do, was to toss it out the kitchen door and hope some larger creature would put an end to the miserable thing. So he flung it out the door where it landed on the clothes line; the rat on one side, the can on the other.
Dad closed the door and went to bed.
In the morning, Upolu, a neighbor, was passing through when he spied something curious on our clothes line. I'm sure he wondered how a rat with it's tail stuck in a soup can came to be hanging from a clothes line in our backyard. He didn't wonder long, however, as he lifted his large bush knife and with one whack, took care of the problem.
But that wasn't the end of my parent's grief with rats, nor how they rose the ire of their neighbors with their rat extermination plans which didn't really get the rats at all. But that is a story for next time.
Until then, tofa.
My parents moved into the house next door to my grandparents in the village of Auasi. The house was of wood construction reinforced on the corners with cement. Being as it was in the tropics, most of the outside wood construction had begun to rot away.
If you were to open the bottom kitchen cabinets you would be able to look out into the backyard because the back wall had rotted away. In the bathroom, the whole floor was gone and someone had laid a piece of plywood across it as a quick fix. I remember being instructed to always ask mom or dad before using the bathroom as one of them would have to escort us safely across the unsteady plywood floor to the toilet or bathtub.
Needless to say, the local rodents had easy access to the house. This wasn't quite the home my mother had envisioned she would be moving into. She had three young children under the age of five, with the youngest just learning to crawl.
One night, after a supper of chicken noodle soup, Mom had left the empty soup can on the counter with the lid still partially attached and tucked inside the can. Later that night, when we were all tucked into bed and asleep, a rat had crawled into the soup can and cleaned out the leftovers. Upon turning itself around to exit the can, it inadvertently dragged the lid with it and got it's tail stuck between the side of the can and the lid. It panicked. It leaped from the counter and crashed to the floor. It then proceeded to bang around the kitchen trying to escape, but the hole it had come it could not accommodate the can it was dragging behind. The noise woke my parents who could not identify what was making such a racket in the kitchen.
My father dashed to the kitchen, flipped on the light which temporarily stunned the creature. Dad snatched the can up with the rat dangling by it's tail, and, not knowing what to do with it, brought it back to my mother to show her.
The rat curled in on itself to try to right itself (I imagine it did not much appreciate being hung upside down by its tail) as my father panicked, "What do I do with it?"
"Kill it!" my mother shouted.
The idea had occurred to my father that he ought to kill it, but he wasn't sure how to do that with a large soup can attached to it.
The only thing my father could think of to do, was to toss it out the kitchen door and hope some larger creature would put an end to the miserable thing. So he flung it out the door where it landed on the clothes line; the rat on one side, the can on the other.
Dad closed the door and went to bed.
In the morning, Upolu, a neighbor, was passing through when he spied something curious on our clothes line. I'm sure he wondered how a rat with it's tail stuck in a soup can came to be hanging from a clothes line in our backyard. He didn't wonder long, however, as he lifted his large bush knife and with one whack, took care of the problem.
But that wasn't the end of my parent's grief with rats, nor how they rose the ire of their neighbors with their rat extermination plans which didn't really get the rats at all. But that is a story for next time.
Until then, tofa.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Wednesday at the Kitchen Table: Ogre Smoothies and Arnold Juice
Childhood obesity is a growing problem in America. Kids just don't get enough exercise and wholesome foods. It's hard for a parent to compete with the golden arches and neon colored breakfast cereal. So, in order to get my kids to consume a healthy dose of fruits and vegetables I will sometimes serve them Ogre Smoothies and Arnold Juice.
Ogre Smoothies are something my sister M came up with (actually she named it after America's favorite green ogre). I modified her recipe and came up with this sweet green smoothie that my kids love (although I have to be care full that my oldest doesn't see what goes into it as he is presently on an anti-veggie kick).
For the Ogre Smoothie:
Apple Juice (about a cup)
Celery Stick
Half a cucumber
One pear
One leaf of Kale
A handful of ice cubes
Mix in a blender until smooth. You will have bits of darker green material floating about from the green skin of the cucumber and Kalle, but just tell your kids Ogre's love those bits the best.
About two years ago, I introduced my kids to my hero and role model, Arnold Schwarzenegger (actor, athlete, business owner, politician). My boys were amazed at Arnold's physique and I told them that if they had any desire to be like him, they had to eat vegetables and fruit. I had found a magazine picture of Arnold posing on a background of fruits and vegetables and posted it on the fridge so they could see it everyday. That's when my kids decided they liked salads. But not everyday and for those days that they are reluctant to eat veggies - that's when I will often pull out the juicer and make Arnold Juice.
For the Arnold Juice:
2 apples
6 carrots
1 beet
assorted other vegetables I may have on hand.
It's easier to drink your fruits and veggies than it is to eat them for some kids (especially my oldest). My second son loves to chew on crunchy veggies which satisfies his oral sensory needs.
If you are like me and need to have step by step instructions before you feel comfortable experimenting on your own, here are some other sites where you can get recipes to try.
www.juicerrecipesnow.com
General guide for Juicing for kids
Juicing using Jack Lanne's Power Juicer
Until next time, eat well, be well and be happy.
Ogre Smoothies are something my sister M came up with (actually she named it after America's favorite green ogre). I modified her recipe and came up with this sweet green smoothie that my kids love (although I have to be care full that my oldest doesn't see what goes into it as he is presently on an anti-veggie kick).
For the Ogre Smoothie:
Apple Juice (about a cup)
Celery Stick
Half a cucumber
One pear
One leaf of Kale
A handful of ice cubes
Mix in a blender until smooth. You will have bits of darker green material floating about from the green skin of the cucumber and Kalle, but just tell your kids Ogre's love those bits the best.
About two years ago, I introduced my kids to my hero and role model, Arnold Schwarzenegger (actor, athlete, business owner, politician). My boys were amazed at Arnold's physique and I told them that if they had any desire to be like him, they had to eat vegetables and fruit. I had found a magazine picture of Arnold posing on a background of fruits and vegetables and posted it on the fridge so they could see it everyday. That's when my kids decided they liked salads. But not everyday and for those days that they are reluctant to eat veggies - that's when I will often pull out the juicer and make Arnold Juice.
For the Arnold Juice:
2 apples
6 carrots
1 beet
assorted other vegetables I may have on hand.
It's easier to drink your fruits and veggies than it is to eat them for some kids (especially my oldest). My second son loves to chew on crunchy veggies which satisfies his oral sensory needs.
If you are like me and need to have step by step instructions before you feel comfortable experimenting on your own, here are some other sites where you can get recipes to try.
www.juicerrecipesnow.com
General guide for Juicing for kids
Juicing using Jack Lanne's Power Juicer
Until next time, eat well, be well and be happy.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Tuesday Review: Jack Lalane's Power Juicer
I love juicing. It's one way I can get my kids to consume their daily vegetables and fruits. So, about 4 months ago, our Juiceman Jr. wore out - not to mention that the plastic chute broke (don't use a dishwasher on juicer plastic parts - it makes them brittle). I was very sad about losing my juicer. There is nothing like starting the day with fresh, unadulterated juice that is packed with vitamins and minerals in the morning. Freshly juiced fruit and veggies don't have preservatives and haven't been boiled to the point of killing all the beneficial essences of the produce.
So, my husband got me Jack Lalanne's Power Juicer for Christmas. Wow. I thought my Juiceman Jr. was great, but the Power Juicer is far superior.
Let me list the Juicer's qualities:
For the money we spent on it ($38.00 at Kohls, thanks to coupons and a special discount), and the qualities it has, I give the Jack Lalanne Power Juicer the Unicorn Award. I'm very pleased with this juicer.
Check out Wednesday's post for recipes I've come up with for healthy smoothies for kids.
Until then, eat well, be well and be happy!
So, my husband got me Jack Lalanne's Power Juicer for Christmas. Wow. I thought my Juiceman Jr. was great, but the Power Juicer is far superior.
Let me list the Juicer's qualities:
- It is quieter
- The chute is larger so I don't have to spend so much time cutting up fruits and veggies to fit.
- The resulting pulp is drier, meaning I get more juice out of it.
- The Juicer is easier to clean.
For the money we spent on it ($38.00 at Kohls, thanks to coupons and a special discount), and the qualities it has, I give the Jack Lalanne Power Juicer the Unicorn Award. I'm very pleased with this juicer.
Check out Wednesday's post for recipes I've come up with for healthy smoothies for kids.
Until then, eat well, be well and be happy!
Mondays with SPD: Sensory Diet
What a weekend! When will I learn that disrupting routines and allowing my children too much sugar makes for monsters the following day? All day. I couldn't believe how insistant they were for "more sugar!" and when I wouldn't give them any - how angry and belligerent they became. Sugar is evil, I've decided. Between late nights and two birthday celebrations this past weekend, my children were all out of sorts by Sunday.
My two older boys were complete emotional messes by Sunday morning. The older one is quite vocal about his "bad days" while the second one is tight lipped. The only way I know my second is "out of sorts" is when he starts gnawing on his shirt sleeves and other objects. Yesterday afternoon he completely chewed to pieces an aluminum cake pan. It made my teeth hurt when I came into the kitchen and saw him gnawing on it. I took it away, got distracted by my three year old who was throwing the biggest fit (he was so tired - poor thing). When I came back to attend to my second son, he was chewing on his shirt sleeves.
I couldn't find the chew stick (plastic tubing) for him, but he figured out on his own what he needed. He went to the couch and piled the cushions on himself and started sucking on his thumb.
This whole experience motivated me to get going on implementing a routine sensory diet for the boys, NOW. Our OT wasn't able to visit with us last week, so I wasn't able to get a sensory diet established specifically for the boys. I do know some things I can do from my readings on the subject and I found a terrific website that addresses this.
So, this morning we're going to start with joint compressions (see video), then back scratches and brushing their skin, followed by spinning on the office chair for a minute or two. I will also have them engage in activities that both push and pull on their joints, like hanging on a monkey bar at the playground or lifting heavy books. I am looking into purchasing a mini-trampoline or a full size one as well. For my second one's oral needs, crunchy cereal or hard fruits are recommended in order to get the joint compression he craves in his jaw.
We'll see how this day goes and see if the frequency of melt downs, bickering, and fights are reduced as a result. I'm not inclined to disrupt their routine, however, they've got to learn how to adjust to upsets in their schedule somehow and I'm just not sure how to go about teaching them. That is a question for the OT this week.
My two older boys were complete emotional messes by Sunday morning. The older one is quite vocal about his "bad days" while the second one is tight lipped. The only way I know my second is "out of sorts" is when he starts gnawing on his shirt sleeves and other objects. Yesterday afternoon he completely chewed to pieces an aluminum cake pan. It made my teeth hurt when I came into the kitchen and saw him gnawing on it. I took it away, got distracted by my three year old who was throwing the biggest fit (he was so tired - poor thing). When I came back to attend to my second son, he was chewing on his shirt sleeves.
I couldn't find the chew stick (plastic tubing) for him, but he figured out on his own what he needed. He went to the couch and piled the cushions on himself and started sucking on his thumb.
This whole experience motivated me to get going on implementing a routine sensory diet for the boys, NOW. Our OT wasn't able to visit with us last week, so I wasn't able to get a sensory diet established specifically for the boys. I do know some things I can do from my readings on the subject and I found a terrific website that addresses this.
So, this morning we're going to start with joint compressions (see video), then back scratches and brushing their skin, followed by spinning on the office chair for a minute or two. I will also have them engage in activities that both push and pull on their joints, like hanging on a monkey bar at the playground or lifting heavy books. I am looking into purchasing a mini-trampoline or a full size one as well. For my second one's oral needs, crunchy cereal or hard fruits are recommended in order to get the joint compression he craves in his jaw.
We'll see how this day goes and see if the frequency of melt downs, bickering, and fights are reduced as a result. I'm not inclined to disrupt their routine, however, they've got to learn how to adjust to upsets in their schedule somehow and I'm just not sure how to go about teaching them. That is a question for the OT this week.
Friday, January 7, 2011
Aloha Fridays: Exploding Sea Cucumbers in Samoa
"So you roll them between your hands like this," my uncle told me as we stood waist deep in the ocean a hundred or so feet from the shore. He had found a dark green, bumpy-skinned Sea Cucumber wedged between the rocks of the reef and had plucked it out to demonstrate how to make them explode.
I had just turned eight years old and he was still seven. I looked at him dubiously as he furiously rolled the poor creature back and forth between his palms until greenish goo started coming out of one end of it. Then he threw it high in the air. I held my breath as I anticipated the resulting explosion - imagining the vegetable shaped sea creature to blow apart like a firework.
It did not explode. It simply dropped into the water and sunk to the bottom. I crossed my arms and fixed my uncle with a bored look. He had promised an amazing trick, and I was disappointed. It's not that I didn't have any feelings for the poor abused creature, I really did, but I was also very curious to see if it really would explode.
He tried again. And again with the same result each time. My uncle retrieved the last victim of his failed attempts and with a sly look on his face said, "They must not be ripe enough - but, you can eat them. Here, just suck on this end. It's really good." He shoved the oozing cucumber toward me.
"You go first," I said, looking at him expectantly.
"No, ladies first," he insisted. Just then my aunt swam out to meet us. She was only a few years older, but she was one of the wisest people I knew in my short life. She scolded my uncle and brought us back to have lunch on the beach in front of my grandparents house.
I can't look at a cucumber and not remember that day.
I had just turned eight years old and he was still seven. I looked at him dubiously as he furiously rolled the poor creature back and forth between his palms until greenish goo started coming out of one end of it. Then he threw it high in the air. I held my breath as I anticipated the resulting explosion - imagining the vegetable shaped sea creature to blow apart like a firework.
It did not explode. It simply dropped into the water and sunk to the bottom. I crossed my arms and fixed my uncle with a bored look. He had promised an amazing trick, and I was disappointed. It's not that I didn't have any feelings for the poor abused creature, I really did, but I was also very curious to see if it really would explode.
He tried again. And again with the same result each time. My uncle retrieved the last victim of his failed attempts and with a sly look on his face said, "They must not be ripe enough - but, you can eat them. Here, just suck on this end. It's really good." He shoved the oozing cucumber toward me.
"You go first," I said, looking at him expectantly.
"No, ladies first," he insisted. Just then my aunt swam out to meet us. She was only a few years older, but she was one of the wisest people I knew in my short life. She scolded my uncle and brought us back to have lunch on the beach in front of my grandparents house.
I can't look at a cucumber and not remember that day.
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
Wednesday at the Kitchen Table:Dried Food Collage
I love doing arts and crafts with my kids at the Kitchen Table. Just sitting around making something together allows time to talk, make jokes and laugh together, and just be together as a family. One of our favorite activities to do is to make dried food collages.
Materials needed:
Dried Beans (all varieties)
Barley
Wheat
Rice (all varieties)
Dried corn
Other dried food as you may have on hand
White glue
Manila Folders cut in half
I cut a manila folder in half (these are sturdy enough to support the weight of the collage when completed) If my child is quite young, I will draw an outline of whatever animal or object my child wishes to create, otherwise older children can draw their own objects. Make sure to add some minor details to the inside of the outline to help denote varying aspects of the drawing. Then with white glue, the child can add the various dried food bits to the drawing. The completed collage looks similar to a mosaic. Below is a collage my eight year old did.
 |
| Eagle on a rock with a rabbit |
Another variation of this is to get construction paper and cut it into small pieces no smaller than about an inch. Get several colors in different piles. Store leftovers in plastic zip baggies.
Have fun, be well, eat well and be happy!
Monday, January 3, 2011
Tuesday Reviews: Discovery Gateway Children's Museum in Salt Lake City, Utah
I can’t sing the praises of Discovery Gateway Children’s Museum enough. Back in March of 2010 when I had first visited the museum on their free day, I had made a modest donation to the museum and was then informed I could draw a prize from the prize cart. Not expecting anything big, I selected a bag and was awarded with a birthday party package at the museum. I was overjoyed – especially since the package was worth $175.00.
Since it was Free day at the museum, it was crowded. We enjoyed ourselves anyway. There was so much to do and see there, that my children seemed oblivious to the crowds and simply lost themselves in the seemingly endless activities. Before I knew it, we had spent three hours there.
Just last week we redeemed our birthday package prize and celebrated my second son’s birthday there. Now I’ve shelled out the money at another museum for my oldest son’s birthday party, and so I wasn’t expecting much at all at Discovery. I was surprised and delighted at every turn. First, we were greeted by enthusiastic staff members who were so kind and obliging (even after a little misunderstanding on my part about guest passes vs. membership passes). Anyway, my guest had showed up before we did. The weather was terrible and the roads were slushy and slippery and we were fifteen minutes late. Nonetheless, after checking everyone in, the staff members whisked us upstairs to the whimsical birthday party room proceeded to entertain the guests with a craft project.
I elected to upgrade the birthday package to include a theme and hands on activities, and so the kiddos got to make wands and eat popcorn. I really didn’t have to do anything but snap pictures as our own personal birthday helper took care of everything. It was great!
When all the guests had arrived and wands were completed, the whole group was escorted out to the museum where a “wizard” awaited us with a table spread with all sorts of interesting and magical items. The wizard, a red-headed, English accented young woman entertained us as she tried to figure out who the birthday boy was and how old he was. The kids loved it. They laughed and laughed. We drew a crowd of other museum guests who also thoroughly enjoyed the show.
My son was of course the “star” of the party and got all the special treatment. He got to wear a special wizard hat and he helped make “troll snot” which he enjoyed wagging at the girls. He also got to help make fake snow and toothpaste for a dragon using special magic words he made up (chicken licken at the airport). Then he helped hatch a dragon egg.
Afterwards we went back to the party room and enjoyed cake and ice-ream which the Birthday Party Helper took charge of (I just had to help, of course. I couldn’t let her do everything, since I’m sure she was perfectly willing and happy to anyway). Then we opened presents and the red-headed wizard came in and wrote down the birthday gift lists for me so that I could send out thank you cards. I really did not expect all the thoughtfulness and detailed planning that Discovery Gateway put into the birthday party. It was an absolutely delightful experience. Even more so since it was a party that I didn’t pay for.
After the presents were opened, the staff placed everything on a cart and put it in a secure area while we enjoyed the rest of the day at the museum exploring all of the hands on exhibits. We ran out of energy before we ran out of things to do.
When it was time to go home, a manager escorted us the parking garage right next door with the party cart holding our presents and leftover cake. He was so kind and helpful. This was first class treatment and I highly recommend having your kid’s next birthday party there.
On my rating scale – I give them the Unicorn Award. Thank you Discovery Gateway - It was wonderful!!!
Note to rating scale:
Unicorn Award: Excellent experience/service/product.
Fairy Godmother Award: Good experience/service/product
Fairy Award: Fair experience/service/product
Goblin Award: absolutely worse experience/service/product
Mondays with SPD: What is Proprioceptive Dysfunction?
According to her book, The Out-of-Sync Child, Carol Kranowitz writes:
“Proprioceptive Dysfunction is the inefficient processing of sensations perceived through the muscles, joints, ligaments, tendons, and connective tissue…
“The child with poor proprioception has difficulty interpreting sensations about the position and movement of his head and limbs. The child lacks instinctive knowledge of these ordinarily subconscious sensations.
“The child has a poor sense of body awareness and body position…He may be clumsy and easily frustrated. Other people perceive him to be a “klutz”.” (Kranowitz, p.134).
Carol continues with how poor proprioceptiion affects the child’s emotions by stating that the child “isn’t confident about his own body. Because he doesn’t have the “feel” of it, he is emotionally insecure.” (Kranowitz, p. 139).
Carol goes on to list the Characteristics of Proprioceptive Dysfunction. A few of the examples that we identify with for my second born who seeks sensory feedback:
1. Stamping or slapping feet on the ground when walking
2. Kicking heels against floor or chair
3. Banging a stick against a wall or fence while walking
4. Likes to be swaddled in a blanket or tucked in tightly at bedtime
5. Chews constantly on objects like shirt sleeves, hood strings, pencils, toys, paper, etc.
For my first born who is challenged with inefficient body awareness, motor control, and motor planning:
1. Has difficulty knowing where his body is in relation to objects and people, frequently falling, tripping, and bumping into obstacles.
2. Shows fear when moving in space
I also believe my firstborn suffers from emotional insecurity because of his “clumsiness”. He avoids participating in movement experiences, he lacks self-confidence and doesn’t even try the activities, and he becomes very timid in unfamiliar situations.
As mentioned in my previous post – I am on a quest to create a sensory diet for my two children who were diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder. I tend to focus more on my second son as his behavior is the most disruptive, but I have to keep in mind that my first son’s needs are just as important even though his behavior quirks are less upsetting to me than my second born’s. Although I'm quickly learning that poor self-confidence for my first born is rapidly becoming an issue if I don't address it now with him.
This week the OT will be visiting with us for my children’s weekly session. I hope to have a sensory plan in place for both boys by next week.
Wednesday’s post will continue with SPD activites that will address the needs of my children.
Until then, eat well, be well and be happy.
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