Wednesday, 13 March 2013
Thursday, 7 March 2013
KZ-isms
KZ was having her speech session on Tuesday night. The therapist asked ...
"Mommy is not home. The kids are at Grandmas. Daddy is very tired. Who cleaned the house?"
KZ answered, "The cleaning lady."
That's my girl!
"Mommy is not home. The kids are at Grandmas. Daddy is very tired. Who cleaned the house?"
KZ answered, "The cleaning lady."
That's my girl!
Thursday, 21 February 2013
Decision Day
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
"I wanted you to hear this from me first. KZ did not get into any schools."
This came from the Director of KZ's preschool. Two days later, the school decision letters were to be sent. As I sat there, not surprised, but numb, she continued.
"They just don't feel that KZ is ready for kindergarten."
"What does that even mean?" my husband asked.
"She seemed a bit 'young' in her play date interview."
"She is four. What do they want her to do?" I asked.
"She needs to walk in, raise her hand and say, 'Here I am. What do you want to do first? Here's how I can contribute.'"
Again, I just sat there. I don't know any adult who can just walk into a room full of strangers and do that, let alone a four year old.
"Kids actually do that?" I asked.
"Oh yes, and that is what they are looking for. Now KZ is young. Most of the kids are almost a year older than she is," the Director said.
And that was true. The cutoff date for public school is based on the calendar year. KZ has a May birthday, so she would be right in the middle, age-wise. However, the cutoff date for private school is May 31st. Her May birthday makes her one of the youngest kids in the class. And it showed. Play date after play date, I saw it. Kids sitting there looking as if they could quote Kant. KZ could quote Elmo.
"The schools would like KZ to spend a year or two somewhere else, then have you apply later. They really did love your family," the Director said.
But all of this about her being too 'young' really came down to something they were not saying. KZ had been deaf and was speech delayed. No one wanted to take a chance on her until her speech was closer to perfect. When KZ took her ERBs, the LSATs of private kindergarten in New York City, she scored a ninety-seven out of ninety-nine in non-verbal, and a fifty-three in verbal. Fifty is suppose to be average. I was thrilled to learn that the little deaf girl was "average" verbally after fewer than six months of full hearing. Within minutes of the report coming out, I learned fifty-three was average and acceptable, say in Oklahoma, but not in New York City. Her score needed to be in the nineties. The schools saw this big discrepancy in verbal and non-verbal numbers as a red flag signalling that she may have had a learning disability. As soon as we got the scores, we were advised to get a neuro psych evaluation done. The eval as it was called, would tell if KZ had any issues, and if so, what to do about them.
We were off to meet with the doctor.
She was a lovely woman, whom KZ took to immediately. They worked together for two full days, then the doctor observed KZ in school, met with everyone who ever worked with KZ from speech therapists to past teachers, and had an hour long meeting with my husband and me. When it was done, we were presented with a report. A report that we received a few hours after being told that KZ would not be getting into any schools.
"I'm glad you are doing this now. There are a few issues we can address and correct so that they will not be a problem later. The good thing, there is nothing diagnostically wrong with KZ. Everything is language based and stems from her hearing loss. With the right support, she'll be on track within months," the doctor told us.
"We learned this morning that we did not get any school offers."
"I'm not surprised. The schools don't like to take a chance. They don't like to ruin their stats. Have you heard of the Stephan Gaynor School?" she said.
"Yes, a few friends have sent their children there," I said.
"It's a great place. It's for average to above average intelligence children who have language based issues. It would be perfect for her. I don't think she'll need to go there more than a year or two. It's something to look into."
"What are some of the things we should be doing to help her now?" my
husband asked.
"Well, her right brain skills are off the charts. She is amazing, and I do mean amazing at math. Her piano playing is advanced for her age, and she can do complex puzzles faster than I can give them to her. Don't even give her these types of things any longer. Read to her, talk to her, work with her on spelling. These are the things that will get her scores up," the doctor said.
My husband and I were both engineers. We had spent our careers working with math and science. When KZ was a tiny girl, we started working with math. Letters, please, everyone knew their ABCs, but math was where I heard all the angst. Math was our focus. It was something that came easily to us. Words and talking were not a priority. The one thing I valued most was quiet time. After a long day, I didn't want to hear anything, except the sound of my pencil scratching out a Sudoku puzzle.
Dinner that Wednesday consisted of cupcakes and scotch.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
I spent the day explaining to everyone who called or emailed wishing us good luck, what had happened.
Friday, February 8, 2013
The emails came out. The first one was from Dalton and arrived at 4:20 am in my inbox. I couldn't even open it. I didn't want to start my morning that way. Then Marymount's letter arrived at approximately 8:00 am.
"The admissions committee at Marymount School has completed the challenging task of selecting Kindergarten students for the 2013-2014 school year. In this competitive environment, when the number of qualified applicants
far exceeds the number of available spots, we find ourselves having to wait list students who we would love to see at Marymount School. Such is the case with Kaylia."
WHAT? Did I read that correctly? KZ was wait listed at our first choice school! I began dancing and laughing.
"Mommy, what are you doing?" KZ asked me.
"Jeremy, Jeremy, we were wait listed at Marymount!" I shouted as I ran to his home office to tell him.
"What? Wait listed? Yippee!" my husband said.
"Mommy and Daddy, why are you so happy?" KZ asked.
"Because we love you so much, sweetheart."
We got two more surprises that day. We were also wait listed for Trevor and Hewitt.
My first phone call was to the neuro psych doctor.
"Do you think that KZ can be successful at any of these three schools if we get an offer?" I asked.
I wanted the truth. I wanted above all else for my daughter to be successful and love school. I did not want her to be frustrated and end up hating school altogether because we pushed her too hard.
"Trevor and Hewitt have excellent reading specialists. I'm not familiar with Marymount. But yes, I do think, with the right support, she will be successful at any of these schools if she starts there in Kindergarten next fall."
Now, we wait.
"I wanted you to hear this from me first. KZ did not get into any schools."
This came from the Director of KZ's preschool. Two days later, the school decision letters were to be sent. As I sat there, not surprised, but numb, she continued.
"They just don't feel that KZ is ready for kindergarten."
"What does that even mean?" my husband asked.
"She seemed a bit 'young' in her play date interview."
"She is four. What do they want her to do?" I asked.
"She needs to walk in, raise her hand and say, 'Here I am. What do you want to do first? Here's how I can contribute.'"
Again, I just sat there. I don't know any adult who can just walk into a room full of strangers and do that, let alone a four year old.
"Kids actually do that?" I asked.
"Oh yes, and that is what they are looking for. Now KZ is young. Most of the kids are almost a year older than she is," the Director said.
And that was true. The cutoff date for public school is based on the calendar year. KZ has a May birthday, so she would be right in the middle, age-wise. However, the cutoff date for private school is May 31st. Her May birthday makes her one of the youngest kids in the class. And it showed. Play date after play date, I saw it. Kids sitting there looking as if they could quote Kant. KZ could quote Elmo.
"The schools would like KZ to spend a year or two somewhere else, then have you apply later. They really did love your family," the Director said.
But all of this about her being too 'young' really came down to something they were not saying. KZ had been deaf and was speech delayed. No one wanted to take a chance on her until her speech was closer to perfect. When KZ took her ERBs, the LSATs of private kindergarten in New York City, she scored a ninety-seven out of ninety-nine in non-verbal, and a fifty-three in verbal. Fifty is suppose to be average. I was thrilled to learn that the little deaf girl was "average" verbally after fewer than six months of full hearing. Within minutes of the report coming out, I learned fifty-three was average and acceptable, say in Oklahoma, but not in New York City. Her score needed to be in the nineties. The schools saw this big discrepancy in verbal and non-verbal numbers as a red flag signalling that she may have had a learning disability. As soon as we got the scores, we were advised to get a neuro psych evaluation done. The eval as it was called, would tell if KZ had any issues, and if so, what to do about them.
We were off to meet with the doctor.
She was a lovely woman, whom KZ took to immediately. They worked together for two full days, then the doctor observed KZ in school, met with everyone who ever worked with KZ from speech therapists to past teachers, and had an hour long meeting with my husband and me. When it was done, we were presented with a report. A report that we received a few hours after being told that KZ would not be getting into any schools.
"I'm glad you are doing this now. There are a few issues we can address and correct so that they will not be a problem later. The good thing, there is nothing diagnostically wrong with KZ. Everything is language based and stems from her hearing loss. With the right support, she'll be on track within months," the doctor told us.
"We learned this morning that we did not get any school offers."
"I'm not surprised. The schools don't like to take a chance. They don't like to ruin their stats. Have you heard of the Stephan Gaynor School?" she said.
"Yes, a few friends have sent their children there," I said.
"It's a great place. It's for average to above average intelligence children who have language based issues. It would be perfect for her. I don't think she'll need to go there more than a year or two. It's something to look into."
"What are some of the things we should be doing to help her now?" my
husband asked.
"Well, her right brain skills are off the charts. She is amazing, and I do mean amazing at math. Her piano playing is advanced for her age, and she can do complex puzzles faster than I can give them to her. Don't even give her these types of things any longer. Read to her, talk to her, work with her on spelling. These are the things that will get her scores up," the doctor said.
My husband and I were both engineers. We had spent our careers working with math and science. When KZ was a tiny girl, we started working with math. Letters, please, everyone knew their ABCs, but math was where I heard all the angst. Math was our focus. It was something that came easily to us. Words and talking were not a priority. The one thing I valued most was quiet time. After a long day, I didn't want to hear anything, except the sound of my pencil scratching out a Sudoku puzzle.
Dinner that Wednesday consisted of cupcakes and scotch.
Thursday, February 7, 2013
I spent the day explaining to everyone who called or emailed wishing us good luck, what had happened.
Friday, February 8, 2013
The emails came out. The first one was from Dalton and arrived at 4:20 am in my inbox. I couldn't even open it. I didn't want to start my morning that way. Then Marymount's letter arrived at approximately 8:00 am.
"The admissions committee at Marymount School has completed the challenging task of selecting Kindergarten students for the 2013-2014 school year. In this competitive environment, when the number of qualified applicants
far exceeds the number of available spots, we find ourselves having to wait list students who we would love to see at Marymount School. Such is the case with Kaylia."
WHAT? Did I read that correctly? KZ was wait listed at our first choice school! I began dancing and laughing.
"Mommy, what are you doing?" KZ asked me.
"Jeremy, Jeremy, we were wait listed at Marymount!" I shouted as I ran to his home office to tell him.
"What? Wait listed? Yippee!" my husband said.
"Mommy and Daddy, why are you so happy?" KZ asked.
"Because we love you so much, sweetheart."
We got two more surprises that day. We were also wait listed for Trevor and Hewitt.
My first phone call was to the neuro psych doctor.
"Do you think that KZ can be successful at any of these three schools if we get an offer?" I asked.
I wanted the truth. I wanted above all else for my daughter to be successful and love school. I did not want her to be frustrated and end up hating school altogether because we pushed her too hard.
"Trevor and Hewitt have excellent reading specialists. I'm not familiar with Marymount. But yes, I do think, with the right support, she will be successful at any of these schools if she starts there in Kindergarten next fall."
Now, we wait.
Monday, 28 January 2013
ID, Please
But, how many people die from meth each year? It must have been a lot for such a public outcry to force Sudafed behind a locked counter. Then I thought how many die from car accidents, which may or may not be caused by a drunk driver? How many die from guns?
Now, what is a mother to do? I'm not certain, but I do want to make a change. Not necessarily to stop Sudafed from being locked up, but to make it harder to drink and drive, or shoot and kill.
Friday, 25 January 2013
A Few Funny KZ-isms
Last week, KZ and I were with one of her friends. The girls were running down the sidewalk on Central Park South playing Red Light/Green Light. The girls, both 4, stopped to look at a man dressed as the Statue of Liberty. I know these guys want money, and can get kind of nasty if you don't give it to them.
"Girls, let's not talk to the Statue of Liberty," I said.
KZ just rolled her eyes.
"Mom that is not the Statue of Liberty. That is a man pretending to be the Statue of Liberty," she said.
They then continued with their game of Red Light/Green Light.
I guess they told me.
______
It's been cold here in New York City -- Chicago cold. The temps have been in the low teens with wind chills sub zero. I wanted her to wear her coat, boats, hat, scarf, and mittens. She did not.
"KZ, please put on your mittens," I said, while negotiating with her to put then on.
"Mommy, it is not mittens, it is MIT-TINS. Make sure you say the T's and the final S," she said.
I just started cracking up. Soon she is going to be correcting my pronunciation of everything.
Speech therapy is paying off.
______
Every now and then KZ still has a night time accident. I needed to wash her sheets the other day. While I was putting the sheets in the laundry, she asked me why.
"You wet the bed, Honey. I need to wash the sheets."
"I didn't wet the bed," she said.
"Oh, really, then who did?"
She thought about it for a minute.
"Jake."
"Really, Jake, not Kaycee?"
Jake is our male Shih Tzu and Kaycee is our female Shih Tzu.
"Mommy, Kaycee has a bad knee. She couldn't have climbed the ladder up to my bunk bed. It had to be Jake,"
I loved the logic.
______
"Girls, let's not talk to the Statue of Liberty," I said.
KZ just rolled her eyes.
"Mom that is not the Statue of Liberty. That is a man pretending to be the Statue of Liberty," she said.
They then continued with their game of Red Light/Green Light.
I guess they told me.
______
It's been cold here in New York City -- Chicago cold. The temps have been in the low teens with wind chills sub zero. I wanted her to wear her coat, boats, hat, scarf, and mittens. She did not.
"KZ, please put on your mittens," I said, while negotiating with her to put then on.
"Mommy, it is not mittens, it is MIT-TINS. Make sure you say the T's and the final S," she said.
I just started cracking up. Soon she is going to be correcting my pronunciation of everything.
Speech therapy is paying off.
______
Every now and then KZ still has a night time accident. I needed to wash her sheets the other day. While I was putting the sheets in the laundry, she asked me why.
"You wet the bed, Honey. I need to wash the sheets."
"I didn't wet the bed," she said.
"Oh, really, then who did?"
She thought about it for a minute.
"Jake."
"Really, Jake, not Kaycee?"
Jake is our male Shih Tzu and Kaycee is our female Shih Tzu.
"Mommy, Kaycee has a bad knee. She couldn't have climbed the ladder up to my bunk bed. It had to be Jake,"
I loved the logic.
______
Friday, 11 January 2013
A New World Preschool
I found out today that KZ's school now has an armed guard at the entrance. I'm not sure what I think about this. In one sense, I have a sense of safety. In another, I don't like having a gun in a preschool environment.
KZ's school is located in a church, but not any old church. All day it offers services to the community in the form of AA meetings to soup kitchens. You name it, they do it. They even do things that I didn't know had a name ... like over eaters anonymous for teenagers. I'm sure there is a demographic, but I didn't realize that large of one on the Upper East Side. From day one, I was a bit skeptical of who could walk into her school because I was skeptical of who could walk into the church. Sorry, but I am talking about a place where I leave my four-year old all day. I can be skeptical.
But after the Sandy Hook Massacre, I went from skeptical to the point of panic attacks when I dropped her off.
I don't think that the average person going into that church will have a weapon of mass destruction. But, if someone who wanted to do a copy cat entered the school, the students and staff wouldn't stand a chance. Now we have a guard, checking all of our school issued IDs, with a gun at the entrance. I pray that that he stays very bored for the next six months.
And if not, that he is a good shot.
KZ's school is located in a church, but not any old church. All day it offers services to the community in the form of AA meetings to soup kitchens. You name it, they do it. They even do things that I didn't know had a name ... like over eaters anonymous for teenagers. I'm sure there is a demographic, but I didn't realize that large of one on the Upper East Side. From day one, I was a bit skeptical of who could walk into her school because I was skeptical of who could walk into the church. Sorry, but I am talking about a place where I leave my four-year old all day. I can be skeptical.
But after the Sandy Hook Massacre, I went from skeptical to the point of panic attacks when I dropped her off.
I don't think that the average person going into that church will have a weapon of mass destruction. But, if someone who wanted to do a copy cat entered the school, the students and staff wouldn't stand a chance. Now we have a guard, checking all of our school issued IDs, with a gun at the entrance. I pray that that he stays very bored for the next six months.
And if not, that he is a good shot.
Monday, 7 January 2013
Happy Birthday to Me
This morning, the first thing Jeremy said to me was "Happy Birthday" and gave me a big hug and kiss. That would have been really nice, except, today is not my birthday.
For those of you who care, it is tomorrow, but I will celebrate until February 8 just in case anyone is confused or late.
I love my birthday and I love to celebrate my birthday. However, this has been a bit of a challenge my entire life. Note, I was born in Chicago, in the dead of winter, exactly two weeks after Christmas. My mom claims it was the coldest day of the year in Chicago. When I looked that up via our internet gurus, it turned out that the coldest day of 1966 was January 29, with a low temperature of -19°F. Mom wasn't that far off. And considering she was in labor with her first child, I'm betting it felt a lot colder than it actually was that day. She was later elated to find that she had given birth to me on Elvis's birthday. Much later, I was more excited to realize I shared it with David Bowie and Stephan Hawking.
Since the weather in Chicago usually was terribly cold and snowy, I didn't have a lot of birthday parties. Most people really didn't want to bring their kids out in the nasty weather, and mom wasn't excited about having a house full of kids in our tiny home. As I got older, we didn't even discuss the option of a party. I did like to do things like go out to dinner, the movies, and get a gift or two. But I would then hear things like,
"But we just bought you all those Christmas presents!" or
"You celebrate your birthday like a Russian wedding. It just goes on for days and days!"
How my mom knew the details of a Russian wedding I'll never know. But I did know that I envied the kids with September birthdays. They got parties and presents.
When I was pregnant with KZ, some wise person told me,
"It's all about you now, but once the baby is born, it is all about her. People won't even remember your birthday."
And true to form, my first birthday after having KZ, no one remembered -- not Jeremy, not my parents, not even one email. Jeremy and I were in New York City, looking for apartments. We had been told days earlier that we needed to move to New York from London. KZ was with my parents in Florida. I got up the morning of my birthday, had breakfast with Jeremy in New York, then took a flight down to Florida. While having dinner with my parents in a local pizza place, it came on the TV news that today would have been Elvis's 74th birthday. My parents just stopped eating and went silent. My dad then said, "Hey, how about we pay for the pizza today for your birthday."
Ok, dad, how about.
Jeremy only remembered two days later when I asked him if he had forgotten anything lately. It took a bit of work, like telling him what the date was. He tried to make a few lame excuses, but once he got it, he said, "Sorry, I just forgot."
Since that birthday, he's hit the date, but just cannot seem to get my age correct. For some reason, he keeps thinking I'm a year older than I am.
I guess that is why I look so good for my age in his eyes.
For those of you who care, it is tomorrow, but I will celebrate until February 8 just in case anyone is confused or late.
I love my birthday and I love to celebrate my birthday. However, this has been a bit of a challenge my entire life. Note, I was born in Chicago, in the dead of winter, exactly two weeks after Christmas. My mom claims it was the coldest day of the year in Chicago. When I looked that up via our internet gurus, it turned out that the coldest day of 1966 was January 29, with a low temperature of -19°F. Mom wasn't that far off. And considering she was in labor with her first child, I'm betting it felt a lot colder than it actually was that day. She was later elated to find that she had given birth to me on Elvis's birthday. Much later, I was more excited to realize I shared it with David Bowie and Stephan Hawking.
Since the weather in Chicago usually was terribly cold and snowy, I didn't have a lot of birthday parties. Most people really didn't want to bring their kids out in the nasty weather, and mom wasn't excited about having a house full of kids in our tiny home. As I got older, we didn't even discuss the option of a party. I did like to do things like go out to dinner, the movies, and get a gift or two. But I would then hear things like,
"But we just bought you all those Christmas presents!" or
"You celebrate your birthday like a Russian wedding. It just goes on for days and days!"
How my mom knew the details of a Russian wedding I'll never know. But I did know that I envied the kids with September birthdays. They got parties and presents.
When I was pregnant with KZ, some wise person told me,
"It's all about you now, but once the baby is born, it is all about her. People won't even remember your birthday."
And true to form, my first birthday after having KZ, no one remembered -- not Jeremy, not my parents, not even one email. Jeremy and I were in New York City, looking for apartments. We had been told days earlier that we needed to move to New York from London. KZ was with my parents in Florida. I got up the morning of my birthday, had breakfast with Jeremy in New York, then took a flight down to Florida. While having dinner with my parents in a local pizza place, it came on the TV news that today would have been Elvis's 74th birthday. My parents just stopped eating and went silent. My dad then said, "Hey, how about we pay for the pizza today for your birthday."
Ok, dad, how about.
Jeremy only remembered two days later when I asked him if he had forgotten anything lately. It took a bit of work, like telling him what the date was. He tried to make a few lame excuses, but once he got it, he said, "Sorry, I just forgot."
Since that birthday, he's hit the date, but just cannot seem to get my age correct. For some reason, he keeps thinking I'm a year older than I am.
I guess that is why I look so good for my age in his eyes.
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