Mid-CenturyModernMoms

This kind of homework is delicious.

Amigo missed a week of school recently while attending a short technology course at the state school for the blind. As part of his make-up work, he had to do a lab at home to make up one he'd missed - in Foods class. The teacher sent home the recipe, and I assisted as Amigo cooked it.

 Brown sugar, cornstarch, pineapple, and a few other ingredients simmered and thickened under his care. Eventually, he poured this glaze over chicken breasts and we baked the mix for about 40 minutes. It was delicious.

The teacher's note said he must also clean up the kitchen. He didn't fuss as I handed him the cloth to wipe down the stove...

...and let him fill the dishwasher and put the leftovers in the refrigerator.

Then we went to the salon for haircuts. When we got home, Chuck was eating and complimenting the leftovers. That's great, except for one thing: Amigo was supposed to bring a sample to the teacher to prove he really made it. I wonder if she'll accept these photos instead?
 
 

Sights to see on a visit to the daughter's campus apartment

This is the roommate's bedroom .The tiny rabbit is in there somewhere, hiding.

"What if she (rabbit) chews on something and ruins it?"

"Roomie won't know it until she moves out. Seriously."

 Rabbit, it turned out, was sleeping at the foot of the photographer (Husband), slightly to his right. She hides in odd places at times. Daughter found her in her backpack, chewing on the cord to her iPod. "Why is my backpack moving? Oh, no!" 

But on the same trip, this scene occurred. Amigo tagged along with his sister to the football game (she was chief photographer), and ended up hanging out in the clean part of her apartment, wrapped in (drumroll) an As Seen on TV: Snuggy!! 

apologies for the poor quality photos; they're from Husband's cell phone. He despises this phone and all things to do with its network; any predictions how long until he trades for a different company's contract?
 
 

Flu is looming, I fear

Worry is the misuse of the imagination.

That said, I'm feeling vulnerable, slightly under the weather with allergies or a slight cold. Late night last night didn't help, but couldn't be avoided.

Meanwhile, La Petite seems healthy, but knows of at least two cases of H1N1 on her campus. I want to send her a care package of hand sanitizer, tissues, and vitamin C, but I'm pretty sure she has a good supply of all three. I just want her to stay healthy. Last year's bout of mononucleosis set her back a bit, but ultimately couldn't keep her down.

Husband has been under the weather, too -- so much so that I made him take his temperature yesterday to rule out a fever. Coughing, exhausted, and more, but no fever: thank goodness for small favors.

Amigo? He's worried; worried enough to actually want a flu shot. For a 17-year-old, that's significant.  I just hope his fear doesn't become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I wash my hands almost obsessively at school and catch myself sanitizing desks, tables, and science equipment that I've rarely cleaned in the past. It's just the idea that each vial or bottle or tray that gets handled by two or three kids spreads the germs from those young scientists to two or three more. The computer lab scares me; I check for tissues first thing on the mornings we use the lab. My class washes their hands or uses hand sanitizer before they go in to type.

If everyone's healthy, why do I worry? Well, one third of my class was out with flu-like symptoms today. Last week I had five or six gone every day.  A high school near us closed for two days when 40% of their students became ill. If my class is any indication, we may reach that point soon.

While worry may be the misuse of the imagination, imagining the worst may actually help me avoid it -- knock on wood, crossing fingers and toes, loading up the Neti Pot and sipping hot cider.

Mom, I need a flu shot.

What?! The teenager volunteering to get immunized? Yes, you heard it here, folks. The resident 17-year-old at my house wants to get both the seasonal flu and the H1N1 vaccines. He's been on my case for a while.

I interpret his eagerness this way. When he was 16, influenza hit him hard. He missed a week of high school classes. Following that, he developed an ear infection. Or was the acne medicine the first piece? It all runs together. His anxiety played a part, too. I remember vividly coming home from his IEP meeting, giving him the antibiotic for his acne and an hour later seeing him toss his cookies, er, meds, er... lose it.

It took months. Not weeks, but months, to put him through enough testing to rule out severe illnesses and reach a diagnosis of IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrome), better known as What They Call it When The Docs Don't Have a Clue.

Meanwhile, ten percent of my school is currently out with flu-like symptoms, including almost a third of my class today. That's not counting the one who was looking a bit peaked during math (sick of multiplication properties, perhaps) and the one who developed a nosebleed after lunch. A school volunteer picked up antibacterial wipes at the Dollar Store and donated to each room. I used up a sizable handful of mine cleaning doorknobs, clipboards, desks, and other frequently handled objects. I even wiped down my own desk - twice!

It's my theory that Amigo fears influenza now because he dreads the idea of suffering another lengthy illness. His way of protecting himself is to nag his mother about getting a flu shot or two. And I'm okay with that.

Homecoming!!

He doesn't wear a drop-dead gorgeous dress. (Roo, you've got it all over him on that count.)

He doesn't play football or march with the band.

But Amigo, my 17 year old Senior-sort-of, loves Homecoming Week. We spent some time sorting through the Spirit Days. Seniors have their own set, so he wanted to make sure he could wear the right thing. Here goes:

Monday: Army Day. He owned nothing on the theme, so Husband made a stop at Fleet Farm and picked up a camouflage shirt.

Tuesday: Toga Day. I'm sure we have an old sheet I can tie up for him. He's rather uncertain about this one; it may be awkward. We'll try it that morning, and if he doesn't like the feel of it, he can skip it. He'll just have to rest on his laurels.

Wednesday: Senior Citizen Day. He uses a cane every day, but it's a white one with a red tip, not a senior-citizen style support cane. If I can find an old pair of reading glasses, he can wear them on the tip of his nose. As it is, he plans on wearing an Atari t-shirt from his dad's drawer. He's considering wearing a Brett Favre jersey....we'll see.

Thursday: Halloween Day. He'll wear a Batman t-shirt (a gift from his sister who loves Christian Bale) and a short cape.

Friday: School spirit day! He actually ordered a spirit t-shirt this year. This means more than you might think. He took the initiative, got in touch with someone on the Spirit Squad, and used his own money from his summer job. This t-shirt might just mean more to me than it does to him, if only because it shows a new level of independence.

Also Friday: Homecoming Football Game! His school team is undefeated, so this might be fun. Maybe. I'll bring my own hot cocoa.

Saturday: Dance! He doesn't bring a date in the traditional way. Luckily, his school climate is such that students can go alone or with a date and both are socially acceptable.

Sunday: Are you kidding? He'll sleep. Family rule is that homework gets done before the dance. It's necessary because he's going to be totally exhausted Sunday. Teachers are usually pretty good about not assigning homework for the weekend; they want to enjoy the fun, too.

My son enjoys Chick Lit.

No, not the gum. I didn't say chicklets. I said Chick Lit: as in fluffy, frivolous, light-hearted novels with little or no literary value.

He started searching paperbackswap.com for teen/ young adult genre, then sports, then travel and cooking. I okayed each selection (it was my account!), and he ordered what he needed. Correction: what he wanted, not needed -- these are pleasure books.  Ranging from Caroline B. Cooney's young adult stories to Chicken Soup for the Sports Lover's Soul to Who's Your Caddy? (which looks like a great story collection, by the way), he also made the transition into travel stories like Charles Kuralt's America.

He's seventeen, blind, a high school senior, and he "reads" a lot of audio books. He listens to them on his portable tape or CD player during study halls, on the school bus, and when he's relaxing at home. Lately his titles have included The Devil Wears Prada by Rachel Leigh Cook and Can you Keep a Secret? by Sophie Kinsella. He was disappointed when he requested Shopaholic Takes Manhattan and found it unavailable on tape. Recently he requested Kinsella's The Undomestic Goddess. I restrained from laughing when he ordered the last one: it's sitting on my bedside table right now. Lighthearted and funny, it's pure entertainment.

No wonder my kiddo likes this genre. I do, too. There's nothing wrong with pure entertainment. Maybe I can talk him into watching a few chick flicks with me. I'll make the popcorn!

The Ex-boyfriend gets married - only just

Daughter dated the same young man for four years. They attended their senior Homecoming and prom together, celebrated their high school graduation at a joint party, shared their connections to get a summer job, and more. We enjoyed this guy; he was welcome at our home any time. He was nice to Amigo, he was polite to both my husband and I, we liked his parents...the list goes on and on.

Then they broke up.

Correction: La Petite broke up with him. She was nervous about telling us because she knew how much we liked him. I told her, "Honey, I just want you to be happy."

Apparently the young man took it hard: transferred to a different college, moved out of his apartment (on the same hallway in the same building as hers and just as lovely, I'm sure), and called her now and then with a knack for timing which corresponded directly to the whims of his on-again, off-again new girlfriend.

He got married. Married the on-again, off-again girlfriend who is now on-again for keeps. La Petite is happy. We hope he's happy, too. But the wedding almost didn't happen due to a no-show. It wasn't the bride or the groom getting cold feet. It was the minister. The Important Person mixed up his calendar and didn't show. The family and friends got out their cell phones and called all over, eventually finding someone qualified who could get to the church - two hours after the originally scheduled start time.

Well, former-almost-son-in-law, I wish you luck. You weren't the right one for my daughter, but you found the right one for you. And if you and your new wife can weather this initial challenge, it bodes well for the future. May your in-laws enjoy you as much as we did.

What a difference a year makes!

Last year I came home from high school Open House venting and snarling that I was tired of educating the educators.

This year was so, so different! I came home feeling really good about my son's teachers. Amigo, age 17, blind, Asperger's syndrome, is a high-maintenance student. His teachers (well, the good ones) work hard. This year he has good people teaching him. That is so HUGE   I think I need to say it again.

This year Amigo has good people teaching him.

I mentioned to the choir teacher that he doesn't mind singing in front of the group. She laughed. "Mind? He thrives on it!" She knows him, recognizes his talents, and brings out the best in him - during the first period of the day. His Music Appreciation teacher made me smile, too. "He said he'd like to learn some theory or music history, and he's interested in learning to play guitar and harmonica. The other kids were asking if they could just play on the computers." 

Amigo also has U.S. History, with a long-term sub who believes kids learn to appreciate history by hearing the stories that make it come alive. The seven minute period with him made me want to retake American History just to enjoy hearing this man talk. Amigo, the great listener, will learn a great deal and enjoy every minute of it.

We pushed for the opportunity to take Foods, a class formerly known as Home Economics. This is a life skill, a chance to cook and cooperate with a group. He might even learn about nutrition! Don't tell him; he thinks he's having fun.

He's been set up for success. Now it's up to him, and that's exactly the way I like to see it. Now that all the pieces of the school schedule puzzle are in place, he can make it what he will, and I do believe he'll make it.

Today they're busy, but last fall was almost a killer.

La Petite, in her 22-year-old wisdom, has learned to put together her college apartment fairly quickly and get into the routines of classes and the school paper efficiently and effectively. This year it's a little more rocky than usual; she has a new roommate, and the guy who sublet the apartment all summer was, in La Petite's words, a slob. They're cleaning up after him, sorting out what the previous roommate took with her, and getting the new roommie moved in. Two weeks into classes, their home away from home is still a mess.

Last fall, however, was tougher. Emotionally tougher.

One of the first days back on campus, La Petite got a phone call from a close friend, sorority sister to her roommate. This young woman, let's call her "Mel", was emotionally fragile and often stayed with them when she needed moral support. This time, though, she wasn't calling for support. She quietly told La Petite that she was done coping, she had taken an overdose, and she wanted to say goodbye.

La Petite talked to her carefully, advised her to call an ambulance, and eventually found out what she had taken. She said goodbye, hung up, and called the police. She told them that Mel had taken aspirin, sounded despondent but not sleepy or ill, but probably needed medical help. Emergency services didn't fool around; they sent paramedics and an ambulance to Mel's place and a police officer to La Petite's to get her statement.

This situation ended safely; Mel lived to go through treatment and regain her health, both physical and emotional. La Petite and her roommate were lucky, too; they knew what to do about a suicide threat. They knew that no matter what, no matter how many times the threatener has "cried wolf," they needed to take it seriously. La Petite was upset, yet handled this with the calm of a seasoned counselor. She got all the information she could, and then called 911.

Parents of teens, college kids, and young adults, please have the suicide talk with your young ones. Most people who attempt suicide tell someone or send up figurative red flags that those close to them might read. Some who attempt really want to die; some want help and choose this method to get it. No matter what the motivation, these people are truly at risk of dying.

Teach your children, young and old, what to do if someone they know is talking of suicide. They could prevent a fatality. They could save a life.

My kitchen; it's quite a show.

A few weeks ago, I invited you to an episode of the Back to School Backpacks Show. Today's pilot is more suited to the Food Network - maybe. Today's featured ingredient is Eggplant. Yes, eggplant.

Amigo, age 17, spend six weeks at the state school for the blind in a summer session featuring employment skills and independent living. He brought home a cookbook - one copy in Braille, the other in print for the sighted folk in the house. Then the drama began.

"Mom, there's a recipe for eggplant parmesan. It was really good. We should try it."

Me: "Eggplant?!"

Amigo: "Yes, eggplant parmesan. Ms. Kay made it. It's really good."

Me: "Was this a main dish or a side dish?"

Amigo: "Main dish."

I was speechless. This teenager, the kid with Asperger's, the one who is reluctant (if not downright resistant) to anything out of his comfort zone, had tried and enjoyed eggplant parmesan. The often narrow-minded kid who insists on Exactly Three Foods at all meals was also willing to try something vegetarian. After I picked up my jaw from the floor and regained my voice, I gave it some thought. Why not?

I've never cooked or eaten eggplant in my life, so off we went to the Saturday Farmers' Market. We stopped to listen to all of our favorite regular buskers, bought bunny food and sweet corn, picked up ingredients for a vegetable chowder we'll make later this week, and then I did it: I bought 2 eggplants. Eggsplant? What's the plural of eggplant? Eggsplants? Never mind.

Me: "Amigo, can you handle peeling these huge purple monsters?"

Amigo: "Nope. Ms. Kay's group made it. I don't know how."

So... I searched the Interwebs, found advice on peeling and soaking (to prevent it from going brown), and looked into the rest of the recipe. We had everything in the house except fresh parmesan. In fact, our mozzarella was fresh from the market as well. I had to freeze it slightly to get it hard enough to grate!

Eventually, the purple beasties turned into something that resembled a vegetarian lasagna and actually tasted quite good.  I can't wait to see what he tries in his Foods class at school. Wait, strike that, reverse it; I can be patient. I don't really want to know what kind of idea he'll cook up next. 

Ms. Kay found her eggplant parmesan recipe at AllRecipes.com.