Ben and Chloe

I volunteered this morning at Ben’s new school for a field trip they took to buy pumpkins.

Given Ben’s proclivity to up and run while he’s suppose to be in a line with a group of 30 other kids, I figured I’d better help chaperone.

All the other parents who volunteered were assigned 3 kids each. I was assigned one – Ben.

I did constantly have to remind him to stay up with the group and hold his hand quite sternly, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought. On the way back I even ended up with three kids too.

I already knew a lot of them, including the two I walked with later in the day. Jack used to go to the school Ben is at now so a lot of the younger siblings of Jack’s friends are in Ben’s class.

While with French people, even little ones, it’s a must to eat pastries!

I picked up Chloe. She is super cute and even speaks in a little French accent. She nicely held my hand the whole way. I had to stop myself from thinking about how pleasant it would be to have a girl. I’m sure if I ever had a girl she wouldn’t be this amenable anyway.

I also picked up Chase, another sibling that we play dated with all summer. The three of us played ‘I Spy’ for Halloween decorations, jumped over puddles and kicked leaves the whole way back.

Taking a long walk gave me a chance to see what all the teachers had been describing to me, that Ben will flop down at any second, (same as his older brother at that age) he will stop to look at something while you are holding hands, jerking you mid step and have a fit if you don’t stop too. Or he’ll just pull away from your hand and start running.

I realized on this trip that most other kids are pretty docile. They will walk next to you, staring out into space while continuously holding your hand.

The field trip came upon some music in the park.

In general, when Ben and I walk together he stops to pick things up, to point things out. We chat the whole time, sometimes running, sometimes walking along. He is never staring into space. He is high energy. And when I walk with him, I let him explore. I don’t try to push him along at every moment.

So, perhaps I created the problem?

I worried about it for a while, but then I realized it wasn’t me. Rules at school and rules at home aren’t the same.

The problem is that Ben can’t differentiate.

But I know he will it time. He’s a very clever kid. And I now know that all the flopping and pulling away is not, in fact, defiance. It’s simply curiosity, mixed with a bit of strong will.

Cartoon sent to me from my friend Jennie

The twins are now five months old but it seems like the night wakings are worse than ever.

I won’t bore you with all the details, but some of the highlights included…

1. Friday night hearing one of the twins crying but unable to do anything about it because I was wedged between Ben and Jack in Ben’s bed. If I moved, both would wake up then I’d have three crying kids. So I stayed there, even after I smelled the unmistakable scent ammonia. Jack had peed in the bed next to me.

2. Saturday night I passed Adam and Jack silently in the dark hallway around 2am. I was running from soothing Ben back to sleep in his room to the babies room to sooth Sam to sleep. Adam and Jack were returning from the bathroom to Jack’s room after a late night potty break. Of course, Jack still peed in the bed, even after that.

Sunday night Adam and I went to bed at 8pm, both of us were so exhausted. Nine wakings, 3 for Jack, 1 for Ben, and 3 for Sam, 2 for Aaron.

This morning I woke up and told Jack he’s back in a diaper at night. He was very upset, but what else can I do?

I bought a ‘breathable bumper’ online today for Sam’s crib. Part of the reason he wakes is because his feet get stuck in between the slats of the crib. I’m hoping in a few days when it arrives I can start sleep training. Again.

But for now I’m going to strip to sheets that Jack peed on last night and wash them, even though he woke 3 times to pee…

I’d like to say all ended well with Ben’s preschool. That we were able to work it out and that he and the teacher are best buds. But in the end, it did not turn out that way.

After I posted the blog on my meeting with Ben’s school’s team of therapists, I took him out of school for a few days. I was still under the misguided impression that we were all working together to integrate Ben into the system. For two days everything was a lesson. A trip to the store was a lesson in staying where you were suppose to be while walking somewhere (as Ben running out of line was a concern for them).

All day we sat at home and talked about gentle hands, no throwing, following directions.

The days I took him out of school I left messages for the school conflict manager who called the meeting in the first place. As I mentioned before she didn’t get back to me for two days. When she did, she explained that her voicemail was down for two days but is up and running and she was able to retrieve her old voice messages. I told her all the concerns I had, basically all the stuff I wrote in the blog. She listened. She told me they do not, under any circumstance, switch classrooms for kids. She said I could do an observation, along with the head of the Montessori program for 30 minutes the next school day – Monday. I accepted.

She called back with the time. Then, as we were about to hang up she said, “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t blog about it.”

Wow, I thought. That’s really out of line. “Did you have issue with anything I wrote in the blog?” I asked.

“No,” she replied. “I just feel it’s counterproductive to the process. It doesn’t seem like you are working with us.”

I hung up. I was angry. Uh, can anyone say first amendment?

And what was this mysterious process that we kept talking about? I kept thinking back to that weird meeting. How I was asked there to talk about how we could all help Ben, but no one was offering any sort of helpful solutions. My mind went back to other things that were said, like when the head of the Montessori program told the other therapists in the room that she was worried that Ben didn’t show the proper remorse when he bit the teacher, looking pointedly at the therapists in the room. And the blank stares when I tried to come up with some solutions, like potty training, for Ben.

Then it hit me. No one there was there to try to work together to get Ben’s behavior in line. They were here to build a case against him.

On Monday I told the councilor we decided to pull him out. She asked if we wanted to revoke our consent for a special education evaluation.

SPECIAL EDUCATION?! Ben? That word was not mentioned once in our first meeting, when they asked if I wanted to sign Ben up for more observation from the therapists in the room.

I realized at that point that this school and I had a fundamental difference. They thought my son was abnormal. I did not.

I didn’t know what their end game was. But I figured the best case scenario was that Ben does some time with some therapist. I didn’t think more time away from the classroom would help him conform to the teacher’s set up, but maybe having more time would give him a chance to normalize. The worst case scenario was that they were building a case against him that would follow him all the way through his entire stint with CPS schools. It’s possible some subjective test that a therapist did, fueled by an over zealous teacher, could have negative results that would be put on his record forever.

Adam called Jack’s old preschool. There was one slot left. It was expensive, but we knew and loved the teachers. And the teachers knew and loved Ben.

Both assistant teachers from Jack’s old preschool had nanny positions over the summer and I was lucky enough to see them sometimes. I remember one incident where Jack was acting odd in the park. The assistant turned to me and said with a giggle, “Oh Jack is in one of his moods. We just let him sit under the table until he felt better when he was like that at school.”

I loved them for that. For treating the students like the sticky, disheveled, tantrum throwing, confusing mess that they are. You could get upset about it and take it personally or you could laugh and shake it off.

I was sure that they could handle Ben in a loving, caring way. That they would treat him like a 3 year old, and realize that sometimes kids stick stuff in their mouth, sometimes they have potty accidents, and sometimes they don’t follow instructions. You learn through practice, and repetition. And that takes time.

At Ben’s old preschool I could never get him to talk about his day. I’m not sure he understood what was going on while he was there. At his new preschool he comes home and sings songs like “BINGO”, recites the days of the week, and can tell me what book they read. I can tell he’s connecting much more to the environment.

Another great little tidbit that I got from my friend Tami was a tip about a reflexology place called Fit Foot. They don’t seem to have a website but are located at 1459 W Fullerton.

All those years in Asia has made me a reflexology junkie, so you can imagine the shock on my face when I heard this place does a one hour massage (30 minutes for your feet and 30 minutes elsewhere) for only $28!

I was sure it was going to be crap for that price. For years I’d been booking various spas and trying their reflexology, only to find the person merely rubbed your feet lightly for 30 minutes. I did finally find a professional reflexologist, Nancy Cole, who did an amazing job. But she was pricey.

When I walked into this place, I felt like I was back in Asia. People are all in one room, silently laying under heavy blankets, like an opium den, getting a massage. The towel and eye mask provides for the perfect amount of privacy.  Instead of a plastic tub, they soak your feet in wooden tubs reminiscent of the places I used to frequent in Shanghai. They also give you the real reflexology. The hard rubbing and pulling that is borderline painful but over the top addictive. The massage is like that too. Deep tissue. He was using his limbs and his entire weight to press into me. It was awesome.