Labels: post- official labelling of middle kid

I've mentioned before that I'm label averse, so what gives with me getting my son an Official Label? It's prompted some reflection, I can tell you.

As well as being label averse, I'm a champion justifier, and I think I've justified this quite well. I don't think I accept that Aspergers is a real label. I certainly don't accept that it's a "disorder". It's a different way of being, one that the world we live in doesn't make much room for. This is, obviously, a description that applies to a great deal of things that are referred to as disabilities. I've been slowly shifting my perception of a lot these issues for a while now, but there's nothing like living with one of them to push you that bit harder.

Charlie needs this label, because the world he lives in is so bloody intolerant and inflexible that spending a morning of kindergarten (prep) class filling a page with musical notes will generally get him a much less attractive label of "uncooperative" or "doesn't follow directions" or some such. It didn't, as it happens, because he has a most wonderful kindergarten teacher, but he's not likely to carry that luck all the way through school. He needs a piece of paper to say "Please let me be me, because I have a label you have to respect". That's a pretty sad indictment of our school system.

I need him to have this label to access some help for parenting a kid like him. His behaviour doesn't fit the standard parenting manuals, and why would anyone want to broaden the ideas presented to cover children with a "disorder"? A parent will clearly need specialist help with that. Of course, kids like him are very common, and always have been, but their parents have largely muddled through, finding things that work by trial and error. I wonder how many kids' parents couldn't find the right path, and how badly some of those kids suffered as a result. I wonder if Charlie's uncle might be one of them, but we'll never know. I wonder how many of them might have been helped if conventional wisdom had included some diversity in the patterns of kids' behaviour.

So I'm seeing this label as a way of demanding respect and caring from a world that finds him inconvenient, but I'm also not really accepting it as a label. It's a diagnosis, or something. It's a means of being understood, until such time as the world moves on and accepts that we don't all think alike, or socialise alike, or even perceive the world alike. Hopefully one day he'll just be Charlie again, not because he's changed, but because the world has.

Elissa's first pigtails

Elissa's hair is getting longer, and becoming annoying. Because I'm a terrible parent, I haven't managed to get it cut, so I bought some hair elastics instead. Today we wrangled her hair into its first pigtails. It's worth being a slack parent to get this level of cute.

And since there was a camera about, Charlie thought he'd show off the side burns he's been working on.

Overheard

The conversation in my lounge room this evening:

Ben: What will you do if I win?

Charlie: If you win, I'll hate you and if you lose I'll love you. So if you win, you lose and if you lose, you win.

--

I kid you not. This is exactly what transpired. I honestly don't know if Charlie (aged 5) actually understood this statement.

Master 5

My bub born on the 4th of July turned 5 today yesterday, and we celebrated in the traditional way, with his friends, too much food and a cake. Well, I call it a cake, you can judge for yourself below.

I have a formula for kids' birthday parties, and I rarely deviate. Kids, backyard, food with as little nutritional value as possible, Sunday, 2-5pm. And a cake that I make, with way more confidence than actual skill.

Today Yesterday started out pretty wobbly. It was too wet on the back deck for the kids to go out at the beginning of the party, so I tried to get some party games underway inside. I had no luck at all, and was not assisted by the birthday boy who had an attack of the shys and was hiding under a chair. So I sent them to the table to eat and we reassessed the outside situation. We finally got enough sugar into Charlie to loosen him up and we released the mob to the backyard.

There they stayed until I called them in an hour and half later for pass the parcel.

That finished, they bolted back outside and I had to round them up again for the cake. *Cough* Erm, the cake. It was supposed to be a cake with a chocolate dome that gets smashed to reveal the cake with goodies underneath. Sadly, the chocolate didn't come out of the bowl at all well. It ended up more of a mudslide than a dome. Still, I turned it to its slightly better side, and seriously covered it with lollies, to produce this frankenstein.

Yes, in case you're wondering, those things holding up the candles are bits of pineapple, I failed to make the cupcakes that I had intended to use for this purpose. First class disaster all round. And then I remembered we needed a hammer. A trip to the garage and some foil, and voila:

And so I took it all to the table and after the blowing and the singing, there was the smashing.

It was hard work, and they were all willing him on.

In the end, I had to help him, and then finish it off with a knife. It was worth it.

I had approximately 7.2 seconds to take this shot before this happened:

Once they'd all eaten, they disappeared outside again and I had to round them up again to come in and open the presents. I don't have a photo of that, but it looked pretty much like the one above, but with a present in the middle of the fists instead of a cake.

Another party executed. Smiles all round at the end of the day. And it wiped me out so badly I couldn't even manage to blog it last night.

Four months until the next one.

Not a post

Wow, it's been a while since I wrote anything here. Contributing factors include:

• laptop death, followed by resurrection with new memory, and a suspected new case requiring 2 trips to Bondi, the second on a Saturday and with 3 kids in tow. *shudder*
• 2 work projects right on top of one another
• friends visiting from Melbourne
• exam
• belly dance performance today (with associated rehearsals and costume organisation)
• desperate desire to finish the 2 scarves I'm knitting
• planning for trip to Melbourne on Tuesday and Tokyo on Thursday

So in lieu of a real post, here are a couple of quotes from my kids.

--

Elissa: [waving soft toys at the beagle] You can't have these because you don't have hands.

--

Charlie: Are we mammals?

Me: Yes

Charlie: Are we animals?

Me: Yes

Charlie: Are we the world?

Me: [laughing] No, we're not the world.

Charlie: Are we big piles of poo?

Me: .......

(He's nearly 5, and it's still all about the poo)

Conversations with Charlie

This morning, Charlie gave me a brief feminism 101 lesson.

Charlie: Why do we have an attic?

Me: Because we work from home.

Charlie: But what about other people?

Me: Most people go out to work at other places.

Charlie: But what about T's mum?

Me: She doesn't work.

Charlie: Yes, she does, she does lots of work in the kitchen.

Absolutely. I'd like a new name for "paid work" please, to distinguish between all the free labour and the stuff we get some cash monies for.

--

Charlie: [Pointing at my breasts] Why do you have those?

Me: To make milk to feed babies.

Charlie: Well what are you going to do with them now?

Nauseating and pointless

An obvious title for a post about my two younger children, no?

Well, not really about them. They keep bringing home these ridiculous, nauseatingly cute and utterly useless decorations. So I am photographing them and sticking them here so I don't have to feel guilty as they tumble into the recycling bin.

First, Charlie Angel, from Christmas last year at preschool.


This is just so..... farcical that I have been unable to toss it. Now it is recorded forever on teh interwebs.

Then at Easter, we got an Elissa Chicken


Why do they do this? Only heartless parents toss out cutesy photos of their kids. They are trapping me between mountains of ridiculous craft and becoming Cruella Deville.

So, I inflict them upon you, instead. Have a nice day.

The Power of Television

Charlie has worn glasses since he was 14 months old. Just recently he's started objecting to wearing them - not violently, just whinging occasionally. Since I have enough battlegrounds with Charlie at the moment, I've not been making a big deal of him wearing them at home.

He was watching a cartoon with a character with glasses today, and suddenly jumped up and announced he was going upstairs to get his glasses.

Is there anything TV can't do?

Douglas Adams plagiarised

No, really, he did, and I have the proof!

Mum & David looked after the kids today while Crash & I went to the cricket, which is a pretty monumental effort - especially when the cricket was rain delayed and so finished late. We got home in the middle of bedtime and got to hear all about the day's fun. There was no picnic (as promised, due to said rain) but there was a blue goo bath and home-made (and most delicious, apparently) pizza.

Charlie explained to Crash that "David made the pizza exactly the way you don't."

It seems Douglas Adams may have got his best line ever from a four year old - it being a standard turn of phrase for them.

Charlie's storm protection theory

The storm hit last night while I was on my way home from Fisher Library, so Crash had to deal with the Charlie angst that usually ensues. I don't know what Crash actually said, all I got was this explanation this morning.

Daddy said that the trees would protect us from the storm, but that's not true because trees are made of wood. The trunks are made of wood and the branches are made of wood and that's not strong enough to stop the storm. But the storm can't get through the windows and doors, because there's an invisible wall that you can walk through, but it's strong enough and the storm can't get through it because it's too big.

I can't wait to hear his theories on the origin of the universe, or the nature of God.

Happy Birthday Charlie

The US is preparing for a festival of fireworks, but 4th July in our family is all about Charlie. Today he turned 4. He asked if he could go to a restaurant for dinner - "the one near the Opera House." This is Pancakes at the Rocks, not Bennelong. However, it was still a monumental effort, because it required a train trip and a ferry ride (the latter just for amusement, not transport). I would have dismissed it entirely, but he asked nicely, and I just can't resist Charlie when he asks nicely. Good thing it doesn't happen often.

So now he's 4. He's his own man, needs his space and makes his own decisions. That last point is rather critical just at the moment. We aren't so much parenting him as managing him. If he feels that someone else has made a decision for him, he screams "NO!" and refuses to co-operate, even if he actually agrees with the decision.

On the other hand, he's endlessly amusing, incredibly cuddly and just so...strange. He's also slowly making that transition to independence - mostly dressing himself and so on, but still occasionally feeling the need to babied.

I'm looking forward to this year. 3 is not a great year, the whinge turns on and doesn't seem to have an off-switch. 4 is all about getting more control over yourself, and I suspect the Charlie we will see by the end of this year will be a very different kid. I'm pretty sure I adore the person he wants to be, but just doesn't have the self control to make it happen.

Happy Birthday Charlie Bear, we love you to bits and can't wait to see who you'll be this year.

He is the very model of the modern preschooler

Charlie's urgent news after preschool yesterday:

"I didn't punch D today!"

These are the exchanges that led to this excellent achievement:

Charlie: D was mean to me today, so I just had to punch him.

Me: You can't punch people, Charlie. D is still learning how to be a good friend, and you hitting him isn't going to help him is it?

Charlie: [with skepticism] Alright....

[after a week or two]

Charlie: I've been telling all my friends that D is still learning how to be a good friend.

Me: [stifles hysterical laughter]

[Sunday night]

Charlie: D really needs to learn how to be a good friend!

Me: Remember, you can't hit him. If he is mean to you, you need to tell a teacher and not be mean back.

[extreme skepticism in response]

Today's Charlie

To take today's trip into Charlie's world, you need to remember the Star Wars theme. Not Darth Vader's theme, the main movie theme. Got it? Right.

Charlie did some impromptu lyricising.

Dogdogdogdog DOG POO, dogdogdogdog DOG POO, dogdogdogdog POOOOOO.

Merging two obsessions into one.

The other Charlie

Charlie, it seems, lives a double life. This, from his pre-school teacher this afternoon:

"I was just telling Mrs B today how wonderful our lives would be if everyone was like Charlie."

Who is this Charlie of whom you speak, and what have you done with my child?

The thing is though, the afternoons he has been at pre-school, he really is delightful. He is currently playing with his sister on the lounge, and they are both having a ball. They have been at it for half an hour and there have been no tears, or yelling, or anything but giggle and laughter.

It just highlights how frustrating it is that schools here only have one intake per year. He just isn't going to be ready academically to go to school next year, but I really think he'll be ready for the structure and the independence and identity outside of this house. If he could start mid-year next year, it'd be perfect.

Plenty of school systems start kids when they turn 5, what's wrong with ours?*

*Yes, ok, I know that question requires at least an essay in response, but it was just a figure os speech. :)

Sensible Charlie

Charlie: [while driving] I don't like having to stop.

Me: Well, if there is a car in front, we have to stop. It wouldn't be good if we crashed into the other cars.

Charlie: Yeah.

Me: Someone might get hurt if we crashed into the other cars.

Charlie: Yeah, we have to do it slowly.

He's modest

As Charlie was getting ready for his bath on Friday night, he casually mentioned "I did a Jackson Pollack today". Indeed, he did. And I used it to wrap a birthday present today. I can guarantee it was the only present at the party wrapped in a Jackson Pollack, even if it was done by a three and half year old.

Charlie Wisdom

"I am not a duck."


"Because I am wearing a hat."