Woo, an action shot!

I'm beginning to think that I really need some more experience working with disabled children, though. There was a little girl, who attended all three days, who seemed to be suffering from some sort of neuromuscular ailment. Her legs curved inward at funny angles, just barely permitting her to walk, and her wrists were similarly affected; she was capable of doing much of what the other children were doing, but needed a little more time to get there. Today's crafts, though, involved a little more of the fine-motor skillset, so she actually needed much longer.

It was in my attempts to assist her that I realized my own difficulties. I had to repeatedly force myself to remember that it was her body, not her mind, that was affected. When she was instructed on how to pick up small paper dots with a toothpick, she struggled mightily to meet the challenge; her slowness in moving to do so was a factor of her physical abilities, not a limited understanding of the directions. It was hard for me to remember this so as not to repeat instructions that she already knew. Why was it so hard? With the other children, I had no problem allowing them time to process the directions. Somehow I felt compelled to make especially certain in her case, which wasn't fair to either her or the others.

In reality, I was treating her no different than I treated the very youngest members of the group. The problem lay in the fact that she was not one of the youngest. She was a very bright, very engaging little girl, and I was fighting with myself to keep seeing her for that.

I know that it boils down to the fact that I actually have very little experience with disabled people of any age. I think I have a distant cousin with Down Syndrome; other than that, the only major disabilities in my family are diabetes and hearing loss. Maybe I should think about doing some sort of volunteer work in order to increase my understanding and...well, competence. I have a little boy in my Monday night two-year-old storytime who's actually four, but is developmentally delayed; I just treated him like the two-year-olds in the class, and he was happy. That may work for preschoolers, but I think anyone older might be offended. I don't know, though!

This is just the kind of reason why volunteer work with the disabled would be good for me. I think I'll speak to somebody at church about it.

I'm probably also feeling tired because I'm bored. Eric is starting to work these mammoth shifts at work to prepare for plant opening. The plant will come up for one day near the end of April (assuming that their suppliers don't force them, though incompetence, to push it back to a later date), and then will go back down until next year. Summer will be a cakewalk for Eric, but in the meantime, I'm here all by myself until late evenings every day. I've actually started using ICQ again for the first time in ages, and I'm even responding to random perverts sending me obscene propositions. That's how desperate I am for human contact.

One could say that I should get out of the apartment and actually do things. But my current cycle of "boredom = exhaustion = staying inside = boredom" is just too strong for me to crack. Random perverts, ahoy.

I can't really blame it on him, because the choice to dine out usually a decision made jointly. Perhaps it boils down to laziness; I hate to drive. And, well, the whole boredom/exhaustion thing is currently coming into play.

Ugh. Have you ever heard of anything so lump-like? I am completely unmotivated. I am a slug. I am a heinie-hurtin' slug.