Pretty much all my energy at the moment is focused on that small blob of plastic otherwise known as my phone and the fact that it just isn't ringing. I'm supposed to receive a phone call, either yesterday or today "at the latest" with Mae's diagnosis, and I shouldn't be sitting here staring at it, waiting for it to ring, because what does it change (answer: nothing). Except that it does. Because the conclusion the pyschologist and speech therapist reach based on yesterday's test really does affect access to therapy and amounts of therapy and types of therapy and whether or not the therapy starts in three months or one month or however many months "months and months" means while sitting on a waiting list.... waiting. Which I'm not really doing a stellar job at, at the moment.
This morning we went to the science museum and played in the bubbles and I said things like: "Please don't put your head in the bubble water" and "If you put that fish in your mouth one more time we're going home! That's it! We're going!" although, despite the fish-y ending, we spent a good two hours there and the kids got out a lot of their wiggles.
Except there may never be pictures of the day because of a mishap involving me holding Patrick and my camera at the same time and a small platform with a teeny tiny gutter of bubble water... and my camera dying a slow bubbly death in the aforementioned bubble water that it fell in despite the teeny tiny statistical probability of it hitting one of the few spots on the platform that wasn't completely dry.
I am a camera murderer. There's just no way around it. I cannot lament my kids lack of coordination without looking in the mirror and knowing where they get it from. I mean really. Two cameras in the past three months. Cameras come to my house to die. And I think it's highly unlikely that Paul will let me near his camera (by the way, this was his hand me down old camera... he got a new one as a birthday gift and I have a feeling he's going to keep it far, far away from me).
So... the test yesterday. There were tantrums. Mae repeatedly took the baby doll and put it behind her and continued pretending to eat the pretend birthday cake on her own. She responded to her name 0 times. She loved the bubbles though. And she alternated between giggling and sobbing throughout the appointment.
|Recycling a picture from our last visit...|
And in an attempt to distract myself from the not-ringing-phone, I'll move on to something completely different in this Week O' Field Trips. Sadie's school binder.
I know there are plenty of people who hate worksheets. My daughter isn't one of them. She begs for worksheets. She asks where her worksheets are and if they aren't immediately presented she says things like "Oh Mommy, you forgot again, didn't you?" (When have I forgotten? Maybe once in four months?)
Last night I decided to take a few pictures of her one of her favorite things in the entire world. So here we go:
|The notebook, in all it's glorious pink-ness.|
|This is her work for August and September. Because|
she's just crazy about writing. And drawing. And making me print out
more worksheets for her to work on.
|3 Swans. She's a big fan of swans at the moment.|
|And of course volcanos.|
This was before this week when she announced that she was going to
"start writing darker" so that I could read what she'd written.
|She's a fan of princess anything.|
|We do a name worksheet every day.|
|And her handwriting is coming along steadily.|
|I just had to laugh as I printed this one. |
An actual Bactrian Camel worksheet. Who'd have thought these existed.