Best Halloween costume of the night: A little girl, adorned in a jump suit, covered in dozens of small sponges.
I was afraid to ask (I hated it when I was a kid and people didn't know what I was) but I had to.
"What are you?"
"I'm self-absorbed."
***
We had a good night. I could have planned it better, as in, it would have been better if the kids hadn't been STARVING when it came time to trick or treat. But all in all we had a nice time. It was a crazed day. I took the day "off" but of course it was more stressful than any work day ever is. It was Trader Joe's and Target and rushing home to unpack the insane amount of groceries, and then scrambling to get to Leo's school for the Halloween parade/party and then getting halfway to school and realizing I'd forgotten the cookies that I'd stayed up late the night before making (oatmeal chocolate chip with candy corn toppings). Then it was off to a friend's house for a playdate, and home for trick-or-treating before it got dark.
Pictures to come (Leo was Superman and Ellie was a lion). Hope you all had a wonderful Halloween.
And happy end of "31 for 21!" We made it!
Friday, October 31, 2008
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Proud
Leo has an ear infection. No, that's not why I'm proud, silly! I'm proud because for the first time, Leo was able to communicate to us that something was wrong. That he was in pain. In the past, he's just been irritable or feverish or both. This time, he told his teacher at school "Ow," and pointed to his ear. The nurse called me yesterday and told me so. I called the doctor, we were in first thing this morning and bam, the pronouncement of ear infection (and also that his tubes are falling out but that's a whole other post, ugh).
I am just so proud that he was able to communicate his needs to us. It's a first.
And maybe this explains some of the crankiness and sleeping difficulty? Here's hoping.
I am just so proud that he was able to communicate his needs to us. It's a first.
And maybe this explains some of the crankiness and sleeping difficulty? Here's hoping.
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Vintage Leo
I was looking through some old Halloween pictures and came across these photos of Leo from Halloween 2006. He was a little over two in these pictures.
He looks like such a peanut to me.
It's weird to look at these pictures and know I was pregnant with Ellie then, but we didn't know it yet.
These photos were taken in our last apartment in Brooklyn. Leo is standing on flattened boxes from our grocery delivery service (man, I miss that!). See that door in the background? That's our front door. See that bed? That's our bed. Yes, the front door led right into our bedroom (which was right next to the kitchen). A good old fashioned rail road apartment. Man, I do NOT miss that.
He looks like such a peanut to me.
It's weird to look at these pictures and know I was pregnant with Ellie then, but we didn't know it yet.
These photos were taken in our last apartment in Brooklyn. Leo is standing on flattened boxes from our grocery delivery service (man, I miss that!). See that door in the background? That's our front door. See that bed? That's our bed. Yes, the front door led right into our bedroom (which was right next to the kitchen). A good old fashioned rail road apartment. Man, I do NOT miss that.
Monday, October 27, 2008
One More
Erin just emailed me this photo that she took on her phone yesterday. I love it. Here, Leo looks happy, not Grumpy Man aka Refuses to Nap Boy. And if you can't tell, he's sitting on a pumpkin.
And just for the record, I wanted to add to my previous post about the weekend, let it be known that this was the weekend that Leo officially fell in love with "It'st the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" and all things Snoopy.
And just for the record, I wanted to add to my previous post about the weekend, let it be known that this was the weekend that Leo officially fell in love with "It'st the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown" and all things Snoopy.
“Leo Doesn’t Have Down Syndrome”
I wanted to write more about the playgroup we attended on Saturday. As I mentioned, it’s sponsored by the local Associated for Retarded Citizens (ARC) and an added bonus is that it includes siblings. I’d been meaning to take the kids since last year but something always seemed to interfere and then there were several weeks when due to lack of interest, it wasn’t even held (depressing). Well it finally started up this week. I’m also trying to get our weekends more structured. I like the idea of them being involved in something. They don’t need to be the super overscheduled kids (I’m all for hanging out since we all have busy weeks) but I think we all do well when we have at least one thing planned for each weekend day. I’m looking into swimming and music and am trying to figure out a way to do both without having to get a second job.
So, the playgroup: We were the first to arrive and we were fifteen minutes late. That did not bode well. The facility, a local ARC office, was sad. Stained carpets, homely circa-1980s leather couches. Piles and piles of VHS tapes in front of a large, fingerprint laded television. What do they do? Park the special needs adults in front of the television all day? Beyond depressing. I hate get wrapped up in the exterior but come on. These people deserve better. Hear that Barack?
Luckily, the “gym” (a big room that could have also doubled as a cafeteria) was much cheerier. Both kids bounded towards the trampolines, basketball hoop and treadmill. At first I was worried. No one else but the facilitators, two teachers from Leo’s school, were there. But then I realized my luck. One of the teachers was an aide from Leo’s class. Jackpot! I got to grill her on tons of information! How was Leo doing with potty training (much better, he is not resistant at all now); who are Leo’s main friends that he hangs out with at school? (Nick and Jack); and her description of Leo: “Leo is the caretaker of the class. He is always concerned when someone is crying, he is the first to get someone a tissue, pat a sad student on the back, give a hug.” Sweet. When we first saw the aide I was worried Leo was going to freak out and turn the other way to leave (he doesn’t usually do well mixing school people with fun time and if I’m there? Forget it. He normally just wants to leave). But to my surprise, he was fine. More than fine. Happy and interested. And did I mention Ellie followed him everywhere? Beyond adorable. I'd never really seen her do this before.
Finally another parent and her child arrived: Seven-year-old M. (I won’t use his first name for privacy issues). M.’s mom and I chatted. He had attended Leo’s school up until a year and a half ago so we talked a bit about his new school, one I had heard about but didn’t know much about.
Then it happened. We were sitting at the snack table with all the kids and we were talking about how M. has celiac disease. I asked her if it was common for kids with DS (I’m always thinking I should do more research about nutrition and DS, I feed Leo everything and he seems fine but what if he has some sort of dietary issue I don’t know about? Would he become some sort of music prodigy or math genius if he didn’t eat wheat? Or sugar? Anyway…).
“Well Leo doesn’t have Down syndrome,” M.’s mom announced to me.
I laughed. Or maybe I snorted. I was shocked! “Yes he does.”
“Oh,” she said, “I just look at M. and he’s the classic look. I don’t see it in Leo.”
When Leo was first born, I remember spending hours just staring at him, obsessed with whether other people could “tell.” When people commented on how cute he was or said anything about him at all, I wondered, do they know? Are they saying he's cute because he has DS? Or in spite of it? Or...
I rarely think about that now, I just assume people know. It’s a given. It's done. And as a mom of a child with Down syndrome I have perfected the art of spotting. Spotting the person with Down syndrome, that is. I pride myself on being able to find them anywhere. Across the grocery store, in the mall, at the town pool, back to me (it’s in the the gait, the oft-pointy ears, the rounded shoulders, the small stature). So imagine my surprise when someone looked at Leo and honestly did not know.
At playgroups like this, I try not to spend too much time comparing Leo with the other kids (or in this case, kid). But I’m human. It’s hard not to. M. was a few years older than Leo, but he was exhibiting some behaviors that Leo did a year and a half ago (throwing stuff --snack, art project). Was that why this mom didn’t know Leo had DS? It was unbelievable to see Leo next to another child and for a change for Leo be the poised, calm one, the one who was on task and focused, since I feel like I spend most of my time trying to get Leo to sit down, follow directions, focus, listen, fill-in-the-blank.
I won’t lie. For a split second, being told by someone that they didn’t know Leo had Down syndrome, was kind flattering. That might be terrible to admit, and it might not be the best thing to post during “31 for 21,” but there it is. But that information, this mom, especially an obviously "experienced" mom not knowing? It was also hard to believe. I look at Leo and wonder how could you not know? Doesn’t everyone know?
When Leo was four weeks old, all I could see was Down syndrome. It was all consuming. I remember only emailing photos to family and friends where I thought he “looked less Downsy”--as if I could hide it. When he stuck his tongue out or sat, mouth-open, I shuttered. To me, that screamed DS.
Now, at four-years-old, I can honestly say I look at him and he’s just Leo. The Down syndrome, of course it’s there. But it’s become, well, secondary. In the distance, on the fringes, at the bottom of the screen. Always there, but so not the most important thing.
So, the playgroup: We were the first to arrive and we were fifteen minutes late. That did not bode well. The facility, a local ARC office, was sad. Stained carpets, homely circa-1980s leather couches. Piles and piles of VHS tapes in front of a large, fingerprint laded television. What do they do? Park the special needs adults in front of the television all day? Beyond depressing. I hate get wrapped up in the exterior but come on. These people deserve better. Hear that Barack?
Luckily, the “gym” (a big room that could have also doubled as a cafeteria) was much cheerier. Both kids bounded towards the trampolines, basketball hoop and treadmill. At first I was worried. No one else but the facilitators, two teachers from Leo’s school, were there. But then I realized my luck. One of the teachers was an aide from Leo’s class. Jackpot! I got to grill her on tons of information! How was Leo doing with potty training (much better, he is not resistant at all now); who are Leo’s main friends that he hangs out with at school? (Nick and Jack); and her description of Leo: “Leo is the caretaker of the class. He is always concerned when someone is crying, he is the first to get someone a tissue, pat a sad student on the back, give a hug.” Sweet. When we first saw the aide I was worried Leo was going to freak out and turn the other way to leave (he doesn’t usually do well mixing school people with fun time and if I’m there? Forget it. He normally just wants to leave). But to my surprise, he was fine. More than fine. Happy and interested. And did I mention Ellie followed him everywhere? Beyond adorable. I'd never really seen her do this before.
Finally another parent and her child arrived: Seven-year-old M. (I won’t use his first name for privacy issues). M.’s mom and I chatted. He had attended Leo’s school up until a year and a half ago so we talked a bit about his new school, one I had heard about but didn’t know much about.
Then it happened. We were sitting at the snack table with all the kids and we were talking about how M. has celiac disease. I asked her if it was common for kids with DS (I’m always thinking I should do more research about nutrition and DS, I feed Leo everything and he seems fine but what if he has some sort of dietary issue I don’t know about? Would he become some sort of music prodigy or math genius if he didn’t eat wheat? Or sugar? Anyway…).
“Well Leo doesn’t have Down syndrome,” M.’s mom announced to me.
I laughed. Or maybe I snorted. I was shocked! “Yes he does.”
“Oh,” she said, “I just look at M. and he’s the classic look. I don’t see it in Leo.”
When Leo was first born, I remember spending hours just staring at him, obsessed with whether other people could “tell.” When people commented on how cute he was or said anything about him at all, I wondered, do they know? Are they saying he's cute because he has DS? Or in spite of it? Or...
I rarely think about that now, I just assume people know. It’s a given. It's done. And as a mom of a child with Down syndrome I have perfected the art of spotting. Spotting the person with Down syndrome, that is. I pride myself on being able to find them anywhere. Across the grocery store, in the mall, at the town pool, back to me (it’s in the the gait, the oft-pointy ears, the rounded shoulders, the small stature). So imagine my surprise when someone looked at Leo and honestly did not know.
At playgroups like this, I try not to spend too much time comparing Leo with the other kids (or in this case, kid). But I’m human. It’s hard not to. M. was a few years older than Leo, but he was exhibiting some behaviors that Leo did a year and a half ago (throwing stuff --snack, art project). Was that why this mom didn’t know Leo had DS? It was unbelievable to see Leo next to another child and for a change for Leo be the poised, calm one, the one who was on task and focused, since I feel like I spend most of my time trying to get Leo to sit down, follow directions, focus, listen, fill-in-the-blank.
I won’t lie. For a split second, being told by someone that they didn’t know Leo had Down syndrome, was kind flattering. That might be terrible to admit, and it might not be the best thing to post during “31 for 21,” but there it is. But that information, this mom, especially an obviously "experienced" mom not knowing? It was also hard to believe. I look at Leo and wonder how could you not know? Doesn’t everyone know?
When Leo was four weeks old, all I could see was Down syndrome. It was all consuming. I remember only emailing photos to family and friends where I thought he “looked less Downsy”--as if I could hide it. When he stuck his tongue out or sat, mouth-open, I shuttered. To me, that screamed DS.
Now, at four-years-old, I can honestly say I look at him and he’s just Leo. The Down syndrome, of course it’s there. But it’s become, well, secondary. In the distance, on the fringes, at the bottom of the screen. Always there, but so not the most important thing.
Pre-Halloween Weekend Pictures
Before haircut
After haircut. Can you say exhausted? Consider this is the portrait of a four-year old boy who will. not. nap.
This is what happens when you have an older brother. You play T-ball with your bottle.
The best I could get with my boy. He was not in the best mood.
Playing in the front yard: a first! (no fence so we've never done it before). Both kids thought it was the best thing ever. But Leo likes to bolt so that makes front yard playing not so fun for the grown-ups. See what I mean about the golden light though? It was a gorgeous day.
The newest sport: Pumpkin surfing.
Ellie loved carrying the baby pumpkins around. While trying to find her costume (an hand-me-down from Leo, more on that later in the week) I found Leo's old Robeez booties. They are size 18-24 months and what do you know, they fit! I kept calling her Nanook of the North in them. I loved Leo in those booties and hope Ellie can wear them some this fall/winter.
What happens when I try to get a picture of the two of them together these days.
Boo! True pumpkin artistry, yes?
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Sunday
An almost haiku for Sunday (OK, hardly)
A poem?
A morning walk amidst gorgeous fall leaves
Playing in the backyard in the golden morning light
A decent Ellie nap
A haircut for Leo
The watching of DVRed programs (after mopping the kitchen, doing/folding laundry, loading/unloading disher) while said Ellie napped
The purchasing of pumpkins
The carving of said pumpkins
The lighting of said pumpkins
The making of pumpkin (from can) cupcakes
The exhaustion of children, particular one four-year-old boy who refuses to nap
A much needed bath
An early bed time. Tylenol for a very cranky Ellie. Teething? A cold? Overtired?
The anticipation of the season finale of "Mad Men" (for the grown-ups)
All is right with the world.
A poem?
A morning walk amidst gorgeous fall leaves
Playing in the backyard in the golden morning light
A decent Ellie nap
A haircut for Leo
The watching of DVRed programs (after mopping the kitchen, doing/folding laundry, loading/unloading disher) while said Ellie napped
The purchasing of pumpkins
The carving of said pumpkins
The lighting of said pumpkins
The making of pumpkin (from can) cupcakes
The exhaustion of children, particular one four-year-old boy who refuses to nap
A much needed bath
An early bed time. Tylenol for a very cranky Ellie. Teething? A cold? Overtired?
The anticipation of the season finale of "Mad Men" (for the grown-ups)
All is right with the world.
Saturday, October 25, 2008
I Am a Bad "31 for 21-er"
I don't have much to say so I will tell you what we did today.
-The kids slept in, until about 8 a.m. Who-hoo!
-Took the kids to a playgroup for kids with special needs sponsored by the ARC (Associated for Retarded [ugh, I will always hate that word] Citizens). Both kids had a great time and I thought it was awesome that they included siblings. If I ever win the lottery I will donate a nice chunk to the ARCs of the world. My goodness they need new, unstained carpets and some nice couches. It's sad how frumpy the place (it's used as an adult day care during the week I think) looked. I tried to not let it depress me and both Erin and I vowed that Leo would not have to spend any time in places like that. Does that sound snobbish? Oh well.
-Ellie took a marathon three hour nap. I think she is so overtired from her week that she uses the weekends to catch up. Can't say I blame her. I'd love to do the same!
-Played games with Leo on nickelodean.com. He has made so much progress with his "mousing" abilities and just his general ability to play actual games on the computer. Very cool.
-Watched the rain fall and the wind howl. It was wild and wooley out there today! Thank goodness I had our yard guy come yesterday to rake (ok, blow) all the leaves up. Otherwise it would have been a real mess out there.
-Went to Costco for diapers, Pull-Ups, seltzer and Ellie's favorite organic bean and cheese burritos. We actually escaped without buying anything on impulse. Yay us!
-Sat on the couch, enjoying the sounds of silence (aka kids asleep upstairs) and enjoyed a moment's peace and alone time with Erin.
Ah, weekends.
-The kids slept in, until about 8 a.m. Who-hoo!
-Took the kids to a playgroup for kids with special needs sponsored by the ARC (Associated for Retarded [ugh, I will always hate that word] Citizens). Both kids had a great time and I thought it was awesome that they included siblings. If I ever win the lottery I will donate a nice chunk to the ARCs of the world. My goodness they need new, unstained carpets and some nice couches. It's sad how frumpy the place (it's used as an adult day care during the week I think) looked. I tried to not let it depress me and both Erin and I vowed that Leo would not have to spend any time in places like that. Does that sound snobbish? Oh well.
-Ellie took a marathon three hour nap. I think she is so overtired from her week that she uses the weekends to catch up. Can't say I blame her. I'd love to do the same!
-Played games with Leo on nickelodean.com. He has made so much progress with his "mousing" abilities and just his general ability to play actual games on the computer. Very cool.
-Watched the rain fall and the wind howl. It was wild and wooley out there today! Thank goodness I had our yard guy come yesterday to rake (ok, blow) all the leaves up. Otherwise it would have been a real mess out there.
-Went to Costco for diapers, Pull-Ups, seltzer and Ellie's favorite organic bean and cheese burritos. We actually escaped without buying anything on impulse. Yay us!
-Sat on the couch, enjoying the sounds of silence (aka kids asleep upstairs) and enjoyed a moment's peace and alone time with Erin.
Ah, weekends.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Not My Best Moment and Shoes
I don’t want to write about this morning, but I have to. I yelled at Leo. Really yelled. I was shaking, I yelled so hard. I’m not sure if I was shaking because I yelled or if I yelled because I was shaking. He just wouldn’t listen. I tried to stay calm, I really did, because I could feel myself getting more and more upset. I think that I am usually a fairly patient person when it comes to Leo and if anything, Leo has taught me to become more patient in general. But this time, I snapped. He kept going limp and refusing to move and whining. He kept telling me he wanted to “play, no school.” He wouldn’t let me dress him. He kept going limp as a wet noodle, collapsing in the big leather chair in the living room. He would not move, cooperate, listen, nothing. When I finally did get him dressed he wouldn’t let me put his coat on.
And then after the terrible yelling, which I still feel bad about, I had to get him into the car. I tried bribing him with the pretzels. I tried asking him to take out the trash (he likes to throw away the baggies of dirty diapers I stash on the front porch and that often gets him outside). Finally what worked is walking outside with Ellie (holding her little hand) and telling Leo “goodbye.”
Then he put up a serious fight to get into his carseat. He went all rigid and whined and moaned. I too, wanted to cry. I actually did start to cry a little.
I don’t want to be the mom who yells. I know it happens to best of us (it does, right? Does it?), but still. I think what also makes me crazy is that Leo is a totally different person for other people. Like last night, for Erin, he went right to bed. For me? It’s a 45 minute, knock-down, drag- out process. When I tell Leo’s teachers stories of some of his antics at home they look at me like I’ve grown antlers. I told Erin I want to install a nanny-cam, to see what he does (or doesn’t do) for me. I just wonder why. Does he think I’m a push over? What exactly does he think about me? That he can get away with more? Does he think anything like that at all or am I just completely over analyzing this to bits?
I don’t want to talk about the yelling anymore. I can only try to make tomorrow (and tonight) better than this morning. And because I don’t want to talk about yelling anymore, I will talk about a much happier subject: Shoes. Ellie has almost outgrown her little pink mary janes and also her maryjane Robeez (size 12-18 months and she’s only 15 months-gaa!). So I’m thinking the next pair will be these:
Or maybe these? Or are they too dressy for every day wear?
These are very cute too. They also come with a pink lightening bolt but I couldn't find a picture of that one:
Or maybe, if I’m feeling really sorry for myself, I'll get all three. Shopping is much, much better than yelling.
And then after the terrible yelling, which I still feel bad about, I had to get him into the car. I tried bribing him with the pretzels. I tried asking him to take out the trash (he likes to throw away the baggies of dirty diapers I stash on the front porch and that often gets him outside). Finally what worked is walking outside with Ellie (holding her little hand) and telling Leo “goodbye.”
Then he put up a serious fight to get into his carseat. He went all rigid and whined and moaned. I too, wanted to cry. I actually did start to cry a little.
I don’t want to be the mom who yells. I know it happens to best of us (it does, right? Does it?), but still. I think what also makes me crazy is that Leo is a totally different person for other people. Like last night, for Erin, he went right to bed. For me? It’s a 45 minute, knock-down, drag- out process. When I tell Leo’s teachers stories of some of his antics at home they look at me like I’ve grown antlers. I told Erin I want to install a nanny-cam, to see what he does (or doesn’t do) for me. I just wonder why. Does he think I’m a push over? What exactly does he think about me? That he can get away with more? Does he think anything like that at all or am I just completely over analyzing this to bits?
I don’t want to talk about the yelling anymore. I can only try to make tomorrow (and tonight) better than this morning. And because I don’t want to talk about yelling anymore, I will talk about a much happier subject: Shoes. Ellie has almost outgrown her little pink mary janes and also her maryjane Robeez (size 12-18 months and she’s only 15 months-gaa!). So I’m thinking the next pair will be these:
Or maybe these? Or are they too dressy for every day wear?
These are very cute too. They also come with a pink lightening bolt but I couldn't find a picture of that one:
Or maybe, if I’m feeling really sorry for myself, I'll get all three. Shopping is much, much better than yelling.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Nice Catalog
I know we’re all trying to not spend money right now, but this is a very nice catalog that I just found out about, with products geared towards children with special needs. It's organized nicely too, very parent-friendly (not a lot of "expert-speak.")
Leo’s school is holding a fundraiser through the company, and they did something I thought was great, which is that each therapist went through the catalog and selected toys that would be appropriate for each specific child. Many of the items are not that expensive. I’m totally going to get this one:
Leo's P.T. recommended it. It looks like fun. And as a bonus it does not contain dozens of tiny pieces.
Leo’s school is holding a fundraiser through the company, and they did something I thought was great, which is that each therapist went through the catalog and selected toys that would be appropriate for each specific child. Many of the items are not that expensive. I’m totally going to get this one:
Leo's P.T. recommended it. It looks like fun. And as a bonus it does not contain dozens of tiny pieces.
Trying Something New
I’ve written before about Leo’s dreadful daycare drop-offs. He seems to be going through some kind of a phase, he Does. Not. Want. To. Go. To. Daycare. Well I don’t want to go to work either so I guess that makes two of us. Anyway, this morning, in the midst of the usual pleading and cajoling and deal making, I asked Leo’s caregiver if he’d been eating his breakfast (which I pack myself and unless he is up at unfairly early time at home, he eats it at daycare). I asked the caregiver about his breakfast, because lately when I stop in to check on him to see if he's calmed down, after leaving Ellie in the toddler room on the other side of the building, Leo has been sitting under the table. Breakfast untouched). Yeah.
As we chatted, Leo was outside in the hall, lying face down, in the crucifix postion. No, he’s not dramatic at all.
“No,” she answered, regarding my breakfast inquiry. “He hasn’t eaten it for probably five days now. He just sits under the table.”
Fabulous!
So we talked about what to do, Apparently when they stay in the pre-preschool room (for the 2-year olds) Leo is fine. He likes that room, he eats his breakfast nicely, he seems to enjoy the caregiver in there. The children are younger and I wonder if he gravitates to this room for that reason. Do the older kids ignore him? Ostracize him? Intimidate him? Who knows.
He’s only at daycare for 30 minutes in the morning before his little yellow bus comes to pick him up for his “real” school. So I asked, would it be ok if he ate his breakfast in the 2-year old room, since he seems more comfortable there? His caregiver said fine (I’m sure she’s thrilled, no need to deal with Mr. Grumpy Pants anymore). He will continue to spend the afternoons in the more “age appropriate” preschool room. By the way, his caregiver told me that he doesn’t play with other kids much, he keeps to himself in the corners a lot, playing alone with trucks and animals. This makes me a little sad. Maybe I’m living in la la land but I liked to think that Leo had some friends at daycare.
And I’m torn. On the one hand I want to put my foot down and make Leo be in the “age appropriate” room the whole time, to not let him do breakfast with the 2-year olds. But it’s thirty minutes, and if it makes him happy, why fight it? And also, I’d really like him to eat breakfast. Most days he tells me over and over in the car “Eat,” so clearly he’s hungry.
We’ll see how this new room switch goes. How I wish I could be a fly on the wall in his classes sometimes. I just want him to be happy. And popular. And well-liked. And did I mention happy?
As we chatted, Leo was outside in the hall, lying face down, in the crucifix postion. No, he’s not dramatic at all.
“No,” she answered, regarding my breakfast inquiry. “He hasn’t eaten it for probably five days now. He just sits under the table.”
Fabulous!
So we talked about what to do, Apparently when they stay in the pre-preschool room (for the 2-year olds) Leo is fine. He likes that room, he eats his breakfast nicely, he seems to enjoy the caregiver in there. The children are younger and I wonder if he gravitates to this room for that reason. Do the older kids ignore him? Ostracize him? Intimidate him? Who knows.
He’s only at daycare for 30 minutes in the morning before his little yellow bus comes to pick him up for his “real” school. So I asked, would it be ok if he ate his breakfast in the 2-year old room, since he seems more comfortable there? His caregiver said fine (I’m sure she’s thrilled, no need to deal with Mr. Grumpy Pants anymore). He will continue to spend the afternoons in the more “age appropriate” preschool room. By the way, his caregiver told me that he doesn’t play with other kids much, he keeps to himself in the corners a lot, playing alone with trucks and animals. This makes me a little sad. Maybe I’m living in la la land but I liked to think that Leo had some friends at daycare.
And I’m torn. On the one hand I want to put my foot down and make Leo be in the “age appropriate” room the whole time, to not let him do breakfast with the 2-year olds. But it’s thirty minutes, and if it makes him happy, why fight it? And also, I’d really like him to eat breakfast. Most days he tells me over and over in the car “Eat,” so clearly he’s hungry.
We’ll see how this new room switch goes. How I wish I could be a fly on the wall in his classes sometimes. I just want him to be happy. And popular. And well-liked. And did I mention happy?
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Repeat After Me: It's Tuesday
I took down a whiney post that I wrote earlier. It was too whiney, even for me.
I don't have much to say tonight. I am feeling whiney but will leave it at that.
I spent most of today thinking it was Wednesday. I think that pretty much sums it up.
Ellie has a new word. "Gaga" for "Dog." Very cute.
Leo was especially grumpy tonight. Did I mention that he was stung by a bee twice this summer, in a span of two weeks? Since then, whenever something hurts he points to the pain and says "bee." Tonight he was pointing to his ears and saying "bee." I don't think he has an ear infection but the thought did cross my mind. I am always looking for a reason for cranky, unreasonably behavior but I honestly think he was just tired.
I just caved and layed down with him to get him to sleep and I thought I was safe but the second I was out the door he shot up like a top and switched on his light, the turkey.
Leo's teacher wrote a nice note in his communication book:
"I'm very happy that Leo is now doing well with the toilet training. He is a very sweet boy--very loving. I find him kissing everything which he likes! Very sweet."
I'll end on a good note.
I don't have much to say tonight. I am feeling whiney but will leave it at that.
I spent most of today thinking it was Wednesday. I think that pretty much sums it up.
Ellie has a new word. "Gaga" for "Dog." Very cute.
Leo was especially grumpy tonight. Did I mention that he was stung by a bee twice this summer, in a span of two weeks? Since then, whenever something hurts he points to the pain and says "bee." Tonight he was pointing to his ears and saying "bee." I don't think he has an ear infection but the thought did cross my mind. I am always looking for a reason for cranky, unreasonably behavior but I honestly think he was just tired.
I just caved and layed down with him to get him to sleep and I thought I was safe but the second I was out the door he shot up like a top and switched on his light, the turkey.
Leo's teacher wrote a nice note in his communication book:
"I'm very happy that Leo is now doing well with the toilet training. He is a very sweet boy--very loving. I find him kissing everything which he likes! Very sweet."
I'll end on a good note.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Test Drive and Gorgeous Fall Day
I totally forgot to post yesterday. And I'd been doing so well! So here's two in one day to make up for it.
It was a beautiful weekend. The perfect weather to try out the new stroller which absolutely LOVE. Even the kids seemed to enjoy it. I hadn't yet figured out how to fold it so it had been living in the den/study and they kept trying to climb in it. This is a good sign because even on a good day it can be a struggle to get them both into a stroller. But they seemed to really want to get in this one (novelty maybe but hopefully it will last). They seemed really comfortable in it. It's big but it's so easy to push and manuever. Like strolling on air (BOB executives, you may start sending the commission checks directly to me).
And what gorgeous weather!
Our street.
Here we are, big nerds posing with our ride. I must be crazy to put this picture up. I look exhausted and I really need to dye/cut/do something with my hair (stayed up late last night and finally did dye it!)
And here's Erin and the hooligans. I love this picture. It really captures the morning (plus it's a shot of all my favorite people!). Note that Leo is waving and saying hi at/to something, probably a squirrel or tree (I told you he's friendly).
It was a beautiful weekend. The perfect weather to try out the new stroller which absolutely LOVE. Even the kids seemed to enjoy it. I hadn't yet figured out how to fold it so it had been living in the den/study and they kept trying to climb in it. This is a good sign because even on a good day it can be a struggle to get them both into a stroller. But they seemed to really want to get in this one (novelty maybe but hopefully it will last). They seemed really comfortable in it. It's big but it's so easy to push and manuever. Like strolling on air (BOB executives, you may start sending the commission checks directly to me).
And what gorgeous weather!
Our street.
Here we are, big nerds posing with our ride. I must be crazy to put this picture up. I look exhausted and I really need to dye/cut/do something with my hair (stayed up late last night and finally did dye it!)
And here's Erin and the hooligans. I love this picture. It really captures the morning (plus it's a shot of all my favorite people!). Note that Leo is waving and saying hi at/to something, probably a squirrel or tree (I told you he's friendly).
City Kids: Photos
As promised, photos from Saturday's Manhattan playground experience.
After brunch, waiting for Erin to buy snacks for the playdate (en route to playground). Erin makes fun of me and my self-portraits with the kiddies.
Leo loved chasing the pigeons.
What kind of a fool brings a toddler to the playground wearing white tights? You should have seen those black knees!
After brunch, waiting for Erin to buy snacks for the playdate (en route to playground). Erin makes fun of me and my self-portraits with the kiddies.
Leo loved chasing the pigeons.
What kind of a fool brings a toddler to the playground wearing white tights? You should have seen those black knees!
Saturday, October 18, 2008
City Kids
Today we took the kids into Manhattan and had brunch at Erin's restaurant, followed by some playground time and then a playdate in Brooklyn with old friends from the Down syndrome playgroup we used to attend when we lived there.
At the playground there was a group of little boys, maybe five years old? (I am so bad at guaging the age of typical kids). Leo was fascinated by them as he is all older kids and wanted to climb on the same structure. He was sort of following them around but sort of doing is own thing. There was one little boy who seemed to target Leo before he even opened his mouth, he seemed to sense Leo was different. He started to say things like "he's a baby, he's the littlest baby I've ever seen. He can't talk."
I can't imagine this child knew about Down syndrome...could he have known about Leo was just by looking at him? Leo was talking a bit, just chatting, as he does, but he's hard to understand sometimes and it's not like he speaks in complete sentences. But the little boy started on Leo before he said a word. And then he kept taunting Leo (luckily Leo could have cared less). Leo was just playing and climbing and sliding and doing his thing.
I wanted to punch that little boy. I know, I know, he's five and I'm the grown up but come on! Leave my guy alone! And of course it made me think about the future. There will be plenty of times when I'm not there to throw a punch (OK, glare). Then again I speak from experience to know that you don't need to have 47 chromosomes to get teased.
I'll post some nice city playground photos on Monday. Minus the mean kid.
At the playground there was a group of little boys, maybe five years old? (I am so bad at guaging the age of typical kids). Leo was fascinated by them as he is all older kids and wanted to climb on the same structure. He was sort of following them around but sort of doing is own thing. There was one little boy who seemed to target Leo before he even opened his mouth, he seemed to sense Leo was different. He started to say things like "he's a baby, he's the littlest baby I've ever seen. He can't talk."
I can't imagine this child knew about Down syndrome...could he have known about Leo was just by looking at him? Leo was talking a bit, just chatting, as he does, but he's hard to understand sometimes and it's not like he speaks in complete sentences. But the little boy started on Leo before he said a word. And then he kept taunting Leo (luckily Leo could have cared less). Leo was just playing and climbing and sliding and doing his thing.
I wanted to punch that little boy. I know, I know, he's five and I'm the grown up but come on! Leave my guy alone! And of course it made me think about the future. There will be plenty of times when I'm not there to throw a punch (OK, glare). Then again I speak from experience to know that you don't need to have 47 chromosomes to get teased.
I'll post some nice city playground photos on Monday. Minus the mean kid.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Sneaky = Smart
Yesterday when I picked Leo up at daycare his shirt was covered in dried yellow paint. I asked him if he’d done an art project.
One of his caregivers chimed in with the back-story. Leo had been on the potty and one of the caregivers had been going from the bathroom where Leo was to the room next door where a group of children were playing. She would check on Leo’s potty progress every few minutes. Each time she went to peek in on Leo he was crouched down, folded in half, but sitting quietly on the potty. The caregiver thought he was just sitting that way.
When she finally went to retrieve Leo from the potty and he sat upright, she realized why he’d been crouched down. He had snuck a bottle of yellow tempera paint form the art supply shelf (located next to the bathroom), unscrewed the cap and managed to cover himself with paint. The crouching was his way of hiding what he was up to.
I’ve always felt that Leo’s sense of humor (he loves to make people laugh and will go to great lengths to do so) is a sign of intelligence. In that same vein, I have to think that sneakiness (though perhaps not as appealing as a sense of humor) is a sign of smarts to. Just my brag for the day.
Thank goodness for the “heavily soiled” cycle on my washing machine.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Bullets: Achey, Fall, New Word and More
Warning: Slightly random and token "31 for 21" post. Apologies.
Some bullet points.
-I got a flu shot today (free at work, nice) and I could swear that I feel achey and just generally blah. I think it's technically too soon to actually feel anything from it so I will chalk it up to it being almost Friday and the end to a long, busy, tiring (what else is new?) week.
-Outside the winds are blowing fierce, cool winds. It's as if fall just rolled in for real. I think the trees outside lost half their leaves in the last eight hours. The scarecrow is horizontal.
-Tonight as I was getting the kids out of the car I ran into our neighbor who had a baby two months ago. We chatted for a few minutes. I only hate her a little for having just had a baby and being skinnier than I will ever be. I had Ellie in my arms and as we talked, Ellie pointed at the little sleeping bundle in the bucket carseat and said "Baby." A new word! This talking thing is very very fun.
-And the BOB stroller arrived today. It's not as orange as I thought it would be, rather more rusty, which is fine too. The kids had great fun with the gi-normo box. I'm hoping to take a nice long walk with it (the stroller, not the box) this weekend in cold, crisp fall weather.
-The "Project Runway" finale was last night and I had it DVRed but had not yet watched it. I tried my best to live under a rock today but darn it if the stupid Yahoo homepage had a lead story on the winner (I won't blow it in case you haven't watched it either). So disappointing to know! I will still watch it.
Sweet dreams.
Some bullet points.
-I got a flu shot today (free at work, nice) and I could swear that I feel achey and just generally blah. I think it's technically too soon to actually feel anything from it so I will chalk it up to it being almost Friday and the end to a long, busy, tiring (what else is new?) week.
-Outside the winds are blowing fierce, cool winds. It's as if fall just rolled in for real. I think the trees outside lost half their leaves in the last eight hours. The scarecrow is horizontal.
-Tonight as I was getting the kids out of the car I ran into our neighbor who had a baby two months ago. We chatted for a few minutes. I only hate her a little for having just had a baby and being skinnier than I will ever be. I had Ellie in my arms and as we talked, Ellie pointed at the little sleeping bundle in the bucket carseat and said "Baby." A new word! This talking thing is very very fun.
-And the BOB stroller arrived today. It's not as orange as I thought it would be, rather more rusty, which is fine too. The kids had great fun with the gi-normo box. I'm hoping to take a nice long walk with it (the stroller, not the box) this weekend in cold, crisp fall weather.
-The "Project Runway" finale was last night and I had it DVRed but had not yet watched it. I tried my best to live under a rock today but darn it if the stupid Yahoo homepage had a lead story on the winner (I won't blow it in case you haven't watched it either). So disappointing to know! I will still watch it.
Sweet dreams.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
So Big
For those of you with patience, here's a video of Ellie demonstrating her new "So Big!" skills (see the next post for some more serious ruminations on this). She's also playing a funny game with the dog here. And Leo is quite amused by the whole scene. If only my stupid card reader hadn't said it was full just as some cute dancing started to happen. And if only I could figure out how to mute my dumb voice!
Easy
Having an (as far as we know so far) typical baby for my second child has obviously been a completely different experience than the one I had with Leo. Of course all children are different. Different personalities, different preferences. But with Leo and Ellie of course there is an added component.
What struck me, even from the beginning, was how easy everything is for Ellie. She took to nursing like she was born to do it (well, I guess she was), while Leo struggled for months to get the hang of it. She sat up at six months, right on schedule, like it was just what she was supposed to do. Leo wobbled for almost a year, finally at ten months he sat up straight and tall, a huge grin from ear to ear. And the walking. Ellie was crawling one weekend and the next she was making her way across the room, quite sturdily, I might add, on two feet. Leo? We said, “Leo will be walking any day”…for what seemed like six months. He took his first steps shortly after his second birthday.
We celebrated Ellie’s milestones, but not in the way we celebrated Leo’s. It wasn’t just that she was the second child. For one thing, her milestones seemed so fast and furious we could hardly keep up with them. But they were also not so hard earned.
When I was pregnant with Ellie I remember a friend of mine who has an older daughter with DS (Leo’s age) and a second child without DS telling me how, at some point, the typical one will surpass the one with DS. “It will happen,” she said, “and it will break your heart.”
I recall one play date when Leo was about eight months old. There was a baby there about two months older than Leo. She was walking around, squatting adorably to pick up toys, starting to say words. Leo was content to sit in my lap, shaking a toy. “How big are you?” this baby’s mom called to her from across the room. And like clockwork, the little blonde cherub threw up her arms and gave a huge grin as she did it.
Her mom: “So big!”
I tried to teach Leo that for what seemed like months. He never did it. Not once.
This weekend we happened upon a stupid Elmo board book: How Big is Baby Elmo (or some such nonsense), buried under a stack of other books. In clear letters on the front it says age level: 6-12 months. We bought it long after Leo was this age because he liked it in the store. I also secretly thought maybe with this book he would finally get the hang of that age-old baby classic “How big are you?” Because, don’t all babies love that game? Nope.
This weekend Ellie, Leo and I read the book. Ellie caught on to “How big are you?” game in about 2.3 seconds. Now she won’t stop. She throws her hands up right on cue. Oh and guess what? Leo does it now, too.
I look at Ellie and I think, it’s so easy for you. I look at Leo and I think, you have to try so hard. You hear stories about people and animals with disabilities, how they adapt, perhaps more easily when it’s all they know. Just the other day I saw an amazing video of a two legged dog who walked upright (I’m in no way comparing Leo to a two legged dog but you get the idea). It’s all Leo will ever know, this having to try harder to do the things that come so easily to others. I want to cry and hug him tight for this. I am sorry for him but I am also so very proud of him. His indomitable, little fighting spirit.
How big is Leo? So big!
What struck me, even from the beginning, was how easy everything is for Ellie. She took to nursing like she was born to do it (well, I guess she was), while Leo struggled for months to get the hang of it. She sat up at six months, right on schedule, like it was just what she was supposed to do. Leo wobbled for almost a year, finally at ten months he sat up straight and tall, a huge grin from ear to ear. And the walking. Ellie was crawling one weekend and the next she was making her way across the room, quite sturdily, I might add, on two feet. Leo? We said, “Leo will be walking any day”…for what seemed like six months. He took his first steps shortly after his second birthday.
We celebrated Ellie’s milestones, but not in the way we celebrated Leo’s. It wasn’t just that she was the second child. For one thing, her milestones seemed so fast and furious we could hardly keep up with them. But they were also not so hard earned.
When I was pregnant with Ellie I remember a friend of mine who has an older daughter with DS (Leo’s age) and a second child without DS telling me how, at some point, the typical one will surpass the one with DS. “It will happen,” she said, “and it will break your heart.”
I recall one play date when Leo was about eight months old. There was a baby there about two months older than Leo. She was walking around, squatting adorably to pick up toys, starting to say words. Leo was content to sit in my lap, shaking a toy. “How big are you?” this baby’s mom called to her from across the room. And like clockwork, the little blonde cherub threw up her arms and gave a huge grin as she did it.
Her mom: “So big!”
I tried to teach Leo that for what seemed like months. He never did it. Not once.
This weekend we happened upon a stupid Elmo board book: How Big is Baby Elmo (or some such nonsense), buried under a stack of other books. In clear letters on the front it says age level: 6-12 months. We bought it long after Leo was this age because he liked it in the store. I also secretly thought maybe with this book he would finally get the hang of that age-old baby classic “How big are you?” Because, don’t all babies love that game? Nope.
This weekend Ellie, Leo and I read the book. Ellie caught on to “How big are you?” game in about 2.3 seconds. Now she won’t stop. She throws her hands up right on cue. Oh and guess what? Leo does it now, too.
I look at Ellie and I think, it’s so easy for you. I look at Leo and I think, you have to try so hard. You hear stories about people and animals with disabilities, how they adapt, perhaps more easily when it’s all they know. Just the other day I saw an amazing video of a two legged dog who walked upright (I’m in no way comparing Leo to a two legged dog but you get the idea). It’s all Leo will ever know, this having to try harder to do the things that come so easily to others. I want to cry and hug him tight for this. I am sorry for him but I am also so very proud of him. His indomitable, little fighting spirit.
How big is Leo? So big!
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
I finally did it.
After months of hmming and haaing and back and forthing, I broke down and bought this Baby.
It's the BOB Revolution Duallie and yes, it's in that color, gah! (I actually like it and it's such a nice fall color, to boot). She's due to arrive by the weekend. I had to do something. The last double was just not cutting it anymore. Mr. Chubs is way over the weight limit (guess I should have checked that before I bought it) and he broke the footrest so using it has become an exercise in aggravation. I tried to get a used one but I kept losing out on eBay and Craigslist and I started to get impatient. No, it was not cheap, but my habit of buying the cheapie, only to have to end up buying the expensive one in the end is starting to get annoying, so there you have it.
I think I put it off because I wanted to believe that Leo was too big for a stroller. Physically, he's getting close (though the above puppy will hold him for another ten pounds and at the rate he gains we should be good for a while). Honestly he prefers to walk and I try to let him when possible but there are still times when I just need the stroller. I mean I really really need the stroller.
It's the BOB Revolution Duallie and yes, it's in that color, gah! (I actually like it and it's such a nice fall color, to boot). She's due to arrive by the weekend. I had to do something. The last double was just not cutting it anymore. Mr. Chubs is way over the weight limit (guess I should have checked that before I bought it) and he broke the footrest so using it has become an exercise in aggravation. I tried to get a used one but I kept losing out on eBay and Craigslist and I started to get impatient. No, it was not cheap, but my habit of buying the cheapie, only to have to end up buying the expensive one in the end is starting to get annoying, so there you have it.
I think I put it off because I wanted to believe that Leo was too big for a stroller. Physically, he's getting close (though the above puppy will hold him for another ten pounds and at the rate he gains we should be good for a while). Honestly he prefers to walk and I try to let him when possible but there are still times when I just need the stroller. I mean I really really need the stroller.
The Weekend in Pictures
I finished decorating the mantel for Halloween. A little cluttered, but I like lots of "stuff" for the hollidays. I'm all about organizing and decluttering but in some cases, more is more.
The exterior decor. Leo is checking out the spider. His initial reaction: "Whoa!" (a direct quote).
It's so nice when something on the "to do" list actually gets done. Here's Leo helping me make pumpkin cupcakes (in case you're interested I used this recipe with the cream cheese frosting and they turned out great). Leo enjoyed helping place the cupcake holders. I love cooking and baking and am really looking forward to the time the kids and I can do it together. So much of my love for cooking and baking I think came from my family. Also, he helped me scoop batter but it was hard to get a picture of that!
Here's Leo being the poster child for children with Down syndrome--they're always so sweet and agreeable, right? He DID NOT want to model the cupcakes as they went into the oven as I so nicely asked him to do. Oh well.
The finished product. Pumpkin muffins with cream cheese frosting and fall colored sprinkles. Too bad you can't see the cute Halloween themed cupcake holders. Erin bought them for me last year and I am finally getting around to using them. Go me!
And a bit of a non sequitor but I wanted to tag it on: Ellie, exhibiting some impressive progress in using a spoon independently (however you do not want to see her after eating yogurt). Notice how there's no bib? She pulls them off now. Absolutely refuses. Thank you OxiClean.
Monday, October 13, 2008
End to Long Weekend
Leo won't go to sleep. I am exhausted. Erin is working. There are piles, and piles of laundry to be folded. I would love to go to sleep right now (8:30).
Both kids got shots today. After much rumination Ellie only got the "R" of the MMR. Honestly I don't know about the whole thing. I could tell my ped. was annoyed. Also flu shots for both. The "M" and "M" portion of the trinity are on back-order. I guess I'm not the only parent who is splitting the shots. I didn't space them for Leo. I didn't know about the controversy back then (where was I? Living under a Down syndrome rock I guess). No, I guess I have just become paranoid. If I can avoid anything, I will.
Ellie awoke screaming in the middle of the night last night. She hasn't done that in a long time and in the past we have let her cry. She has never woken Leo before. Until last night. I saw the light in his room switch on and my heart sank. And Ellie would not go down in her crib, just the bed. And yes, I caved and nursed. Today the doctor said her gums were very enflamed so it's probably teething.
This whole laying down with Leo to get him to sleep has to end, but how can it? WIth the risk of him waking her and vice versa. But what to do about the fact that at bedtime he just hangs out in his room? It would be one thing if he just eventually passed out but sometimes he will start banging and clanging, waking up a certain Miss who resides next door. I'm open to suggestions if anyone has any.
OK I should have titled this the Boring Sleep Post.
I am just, done.
Tomorrow will be better. There were some definite fun portions of today. I will cover those tomorrow and also, pictures.
'Night.
Both kids got shots today. After much rumination Ellie only got the "R" of the MMR. Honestly I don't know about the whole thing. I could tell my ped. was annoyed. Also flu shots for both. The "M" and "M" portion of the trinity are on back-order. I guess I'm not the only parent who is splitting the shots. I didn't space them for Leo. I didn't know about the controversy back then (where was I? Living under a Down syndrome rock I guess). No, I guess I have just become paranoid. If I can avoid anything, I will.
Ellie awoke screaming in the middle of the night last night. She hasn't done that in a long time and in the past we have let her cry. She has never woken Leo before. Until last night. I saw the light in his room switch on and my heart sank. And Ellie would not go down in her crib, just the bed. And yes, I caved and nursed. Today the doctor said her gums were very enflamed so it's probably teething.
This whole laying down with Leo to get him to sleep has to end, but how can it? WIth the risk of him waking her and vice versa. But what to do about the fact that at bedtime he just hangs out in his room? It would be one thing if he just eventually passed out but sometimes he will start banging and clanging, waking up a certain Miss who resides next door. I'm open to suggestions if anyone has any.
OK I should have titled this the Boring Sleep Post.
I am just, done.
Tomorrow will be better. There were some definite fun portions of today. I will cover those tomorrow and also, pictures.
'Night.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
Long Weekend
This is a blatant, token "31 for 21" post. And it is scattered.
Ellie took an unbelievably long nap today, 10:30-1:30. I was beginning to feel annoyed (!) and Leo was definitely bouncing off the walls. We had tentative plans to visit my friend who just had twins but I also wanted to go check out a new double stroller at a local baby super store (Leo has outgrown his cheapie, double umbrella stroller, dammit!). We bought the stroller (though it's on back order) but have to put off our visit to the twins until tomorrow.
And somewhere in there I managed to sprain my ankle. Seriously, what did I do? With four advil and some wine I am feeling better but I'm worried about tomorrow. It's not like I can just lay on the couch all day eating bon bons (as much as I'd love to).
Tomorrow is a holiday, Columbus Day, a holiday I was not aware of until I lived on the east coast. I had to take the day off work because the daycare is closed. I figured may as well get "business" done so Ellie has her 15 month exam/shots and Leo is getting some shots as well. Tomorrow will be a banner day!
I forget to mention one important detail about yesterday's playdate. The mom served margaritas! My kind of mom.
This is a pretty random post. I am killing time until "Mad Men." Can't wait.
One last thing. An interesting piece on "This American Life" about a mom and her son with Mosaic Down syndrome. The mom chose not to tell her son about his condition (his I.Q. is 110). An interesting concept. Did anyone catch it? Any thoughts? And have I mentioned how much I love "This American Life?" A good, good show.
Ellie took an unbelievably long nap today, 10:30-1:30. I was beginning to feel annoyed (!) and Leo was definitely bouncing off the walls. We had tentative plans to visit my friend who just had twins but I also wanted to go check out a new double stroller at a local baby super store (Leo has outgrown his cheapie, double umbrella stroller, dammit!). We bought the stroller (though it's on back order) but have to put off our visit to the twins until tomorrow.
And somewhere in there I managed to sprain my ankle. Seriously, what did I do? With four advil and some wine I am feeling better but I'm worried about tomorrow. It's not like I can just lay on the couch all day eating bon bons (as much as I'd love to).
Tomorrow is a holiday, Columbus Day, a holiday I was not aware of until I lived on the east coast. I had to take the day off work because the daycare is closed. I figured may as well get "business" done so Ellie has her 15 month exam/shots and Leo is getting some shots as well. Tomorrow will be a banner day!
I forget to mention one important detail about yesterday's playdate. The mom served margaritas! My kind of mom.
This is a pretty random post. I am killing time until "Mad Men." Can't wait.
One last thing. An interesting piece on "This American Life" about a mom and her son with Mosaic Down syndrome. The mom chose not to tell her son about his condition (his I.Q. is 110). An interesting concept. Did anyone catch it? Any thoughts? And have I mentioned how much I love "This American Life?" A good, good show.
Saturday, October 11, 2008
Beautiful Fall Saturday
Quick post tonight because I am beat. We had a busy day. Grocery shopping (quality one-on-one Leo time), then rushing home to make it in time for a playdate but first I had to quickly frost pumpkin cupcakes with cheesecake frosting that I'd left to cool while we grocery shopped. Leo helped make the cupcakes! Pics to come.
The playdate was fun, with a new friend, a mom of one of Leo's classmates. We talked about the surprise of DS, the crappy birth experiences, the challenges of the kids, the joy, the exhaustion. You know, the usual. She has a second child (daughter) who is two. Her son with DS is a year younger than Leo. They have a dream backyard, with one of those wooden play structures with swings and a slide and a ladder. If Leo had better language skills he probably would have asked to be adopted by them.
The weather today was glorious, the leaves are heading towards peak and it was one of those classic, east coast fall days. It was lovely driving through the quaint little towns to get to where my friend and her family lives. Winding roads shaded by red and yellow and golden leaved trees, classic, grand colonials, bedecked with the proverbial fall mums, scarecrow figures, pumpkins and Halloween regalia. It felt like a movie.
But like I said, I am beat. I am thinking wine and a bath. A restful evening to all.
The playdate was fun, with a new friend, a mom of one of Leo's classmates. We talked about the surprise of DS, the crappy birth experiences, the challenges of the kids, the joy, the exhaustion. You know, the usual. She has a second child (daughter) who is two. Her son with DS is a year younger than Leo. They have a dream backyard, with one of those wooden play structures with swings and a slide and a ladder. If Leo had better language skills he probably would have asked to be adopted by them.
The weather today was glorious, the leaves are heading towards peak and it was one of those classic, east coast fall days. It was lovely driving through the quaint little towns to get to where my friend and her family lives. Winding roads shaded by red and yellow and golden leaved trees, classic, grand colonials, bedecked with the proverbial fall mums, scarecrow figures, pumpkins and Halloween regalia. It felt like a movie.
But like I said, I am beat. I am thinking wine and a bath. A restful evening to all.
Friday, October 10, 2008
A Pat Benatar Kind of Bedtime
I am going to contact Ms. Benatar today to see if she minds if I change the words to her hit song to “Bedtime is a Battlefield.”
Seriously, Leo. What the heck?
Erin was out last night so it was just the hooligans and me for bedtime. We had our usual books combined with gymnastics on the beds in Leo’s room and then after about fifteen minutes of my best reading efforts, I told Leo it was time for bed. I turned on his music, shut off the light and calmly closed the door.
And that was the beginning of the end.
Thank goodness Ellie went down like a dream (I dread, Dread the day when she doesn’t but know it will come at some point). And thus began over two hours of the Bedtime Battlefield.
I snuck downstairs to clean up the kitchen and throw in a load of laundry, all the while hearing Leo “busy” in his room. Throwing books. Throwing his water cup. Calling for me. Calling for Erin. Clanging something (a book?) on his baseboard heater. Somewhere along the line Leo has become accustomed to having someone lie down with him in order to fall asleep. It is a BAD habit. I think it may have started when we went to Oregon in August. Erin would lie down with Leo because we were sleeping in my dad and step mom’s room and we didn’t trust him in there by himself (too many things to get into).
I was in and out of Leo’s room about every fifteen minutes trying to get him to calm down. I tried everything. I rubbed his back (hated it), told him a long story about a little boy named Leo (he loves this). Nothing. Each time I left his room, the light would turn on and the whining and book throwing would ensue.
Honestly, if I didn’t know any better I would have thought he’d had a double espresso yesterday afternoon, that’s just how crazy he was acting. I mean he is in constant motion, he has a hectic, busy day. How can he not be exhausted by 8:15 p.m?
I finally caved at about 9:45 because I wanted to go to sleep and knew I wouldn’t be able to relax if I could hear Leo roaming around in his room (even if I knew he would eventually pass out). Also, there is always that fear that he will wake Ellie; their rooms are after all right next door to each other (thank goodness for the inventor of the sound machine). So I did it. I lay (layed? I was an English major but can never remember this one) down in the bed with him. After about ten minutes, he started to snore. I tiptoed out and he shot up, calling “no!” I thought for sure he was about to get up and start all over again, but I was pleasantly surprised to hear the sweet sound of silence, after a minute or two. I think exhaustion just finally won out.
I sulked into bed. Darn it Leo, I missed “Grey’s Anatomy” and then was too tired to focus on “ER.” Thank goodness for DVRs, the savior of Bedtime Battlefields.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
Giving Credit
Since I feel like much of the time I talk here about how hard everything is, I thought I would make a point of saying how wonderful this morning was and give a few other bits of good news.
First of all, I have a new tactic. Pretzels! Both kids love them. I’m not sure how healthy they are but I don’t think a handful a day is going to kill anyone. The promise of pretzels eaten in the car, at least today and yesterday, got Leo out of the house relatively easily (Ellie, bless her heart, is still at the adorable age in which she follows directions cheerfully. Me: “Time to go bye-bye.” Ellie: “Yay!” then pads excitedly to front door and waits). But this morning Leo was so agreeable it was almost eerie. He walked out to the car like a little gentleman, let me put him into his car seat without kicking or squirming. There was virtually no whining and all I had to do was hand Leo his bowl of pretzels and listen to (mind numbing) Dora on the stereo in the car.
Another sweet thing was that Leo offered Ellie a pretzel without any prompting from me. She signed “more” and he held one out for her, saying “Ey-yee, Ey-yee” (that’s Leo’s version of Ellie). This is one of those times where it’s not a bad thing that they are close enough to touch in the car.
Oh! I almost left out the best part. There was a bag with a dirty diaper in it on the front porch that I placed outside last night (we used to be able to leave them on the back porch but the dog has discovered she can tear into the bag for a “treat” – ugh!). Anyway, as I was putting Ellie in her seat, Leo picked up the bag and without any prompting, calmly and sweetly walked up the driveway and placed the small bag into the garbage can. What a sweet helper!
And Leo has stayed dried two mornings in a row at school, peed on the potty two times at both school and daycare and drumroll please…he pooped on the potty last night.
And and and...as if it couldn't get any better, he ate Three, count them, Three carrots (mini) last night. Dipped in ketchup, but still. Vegetables, folks.
My cup runneth over.
First of all, I have a new tactic. Pretzels! Both kids love them. I’m not sure how healthy they are but I don’t think a handful a day is going to kill anyone. The promise of pretzels eaten in the car, at least today and yesterday, got Leo out of the house relatively easily (Ellie, bless her heart, is still at the adorable age in which she follows directions cheerfully. Me: “Time to go bye-bye.” Ellie: “Yay!” then pads excitedly to front door and waits). But this morning Leo was so agreeable it was almost eerie. He walked out to the car like a little gentleman, let me put him into his car seat without kicking or squirming. There was virtually no whining and all I had to do was hand Leo his bowl of pretzels and listen to (mind numbing) Dora on the stereo in the car.
Another sweet thing was that Leo offered Ellie a pretzel without any prompting from me. She signed “more” and he held one out for her, saying “Ey-yee, Ey-yee” (that’s Leo’s version of Ellie). This is one of those times where it’s not a bad thing that they are close enough to touch in the car.
Oh! I almost left out the best part. There was a bag with a dirty diaper in it on the front porch that I placed outside last night (we used to be able to leave them on the back porch but the dog has discovered she can tear into the bag for a “treat” – ugh!). Anyway, as I was putting Ellie in her seat, Leo picked up the bag and without any prompting, calmly and sweetly walked up the driveway and placed the small bag into the garbage can. What a sweet helper!
And Leo has stayed dried two mornings in a row at school, peed on the potty two times at both school and daycare and drumroll please…he pooped on the potty last night.
And and and...as if it couldn't get any better, he ate Three, count them, Three carrots (mini) last night. Dipped in ketchup, but still. Vegetables, folks.
My cup runneth over.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Open House at Leo's School or Invasion of the Body Snatchers
I’m late in my report on open house at Leo’s school last week.
He attends an amazing school, which I’ve spoken about here before. It played a large part in our decision to choose the town we did. About 95 percent of the children who attend it have Down syndrome, the rest have some other kind of cognitive disability. I feel strongly about inclusion for when Leo is a little older (say, kindergarten) but for now, I think this is the best place for Leo. There are eight students in his class, one teacher and four aides. Let’s just say he gets a lot of attention.
So far I have enjoyed visiting Leo's school. We are usually showered with compliments about what a sweet, cooperative, adorable little boy Leo is. The only not so good news we got is that Leo's P.T. thinks he may need orthotics, which is no big deal it's just a matter of making some calls and seeing who takes our insurance, making appointments. I did find myself getting annoyed when the P.T. asked us if we noticed if Leo stumbles a lot at home. I said no, Erin said a little. Then Erin told her she notices sometimes Leo will walk with his head turned to look behind him, looking at his shadow. The P.T. said Oh no you don't want him doing that, that's sensory!
I'm sorry, I know that sensory issues are true issues for some kids but I really think too many things get labeled as such. If a typical four year old was walking down the street, curious of his own shadow, playing in the sunlight, it would be labeled "adorable." A child with Down syndrome? Gasp, it's sensory!
Anyway, rant over.
***
So our boy is a busy guy at that school. Here’s a peek at his schedule (I'm curious what sorts of therapies/schooling others are getting so I thought I'd post Leo's here. Skip to the bottom if it's too much detail for you):
8:50-9
Arrival (from busses)
9-10:
Sensory play, cognitive basket work (sounds complicated!)
10-10:30
Art project: (Varies) Last week it was: Make pumpkins from orange and green construction paper, red and yellow paint, shaving cream, glue sticks, scissors and smocks. Method: warm-up, name the material and the colors used in the project. Have the students cut the pumpkins, glue a green stem. Have them mix the two colors in the shaving cream and watch how it changes color. Press pumpkins down and let them dry.
10:30-11
Circle Time: Pledge of Allegiance, America the Beautiful, Calendar, Weather. Identify and name pumpkin, its color and size. Identify “big” and “little” pumpkin. Read sight words for “big” and “little.”
11:00-11:15
Snack/Toileting
11:15-12
“Center” (short, timed lessons consisting of:)
Numbers: Matching or placing numbers in order on the number line (1-10), (1-20)
Letters: Match/select/name letters A-H, A-Z (a-z) on the alphabet chart.
Reading: All About Me Book: (book that contains photos of family members and every day objects.
Writing: Each student works on individual goals (writing first and last name, etc.)
Computer: Toddler’s Fun, Signing Time,
12-1
Nap
1-2
Lunch/Toileting
2-2:30
Group physical therapy (alternates with speech and O.T,)
2:30-2:50
Facilitated play (this week it was babies and strollers!)
2:50
Dismissal
Each child also has a “job” for the week. This week Leo’s was pushing in the chairs. Also within this schedule each child receives individual speech, physical and occupational therapies.
***
So at the open house we met the entire school staff in the auditorium (where we were asked to go around the room and say our names, ugh!). We then broke into smaller groups and went to our child’s classroom. At the tiny tables each seat had a placemat that our child had colored in. It read “Welcome Mom and Dad,” only ours read “Welcome Mom,” which I thought was quite sweet and thoughtful. They could have added an “s” making it “Moms” but I was touched that they weree sensitive enough and remembered to do anything at all.
Then they teacher told us about a typical day for our children.
Here’s a few things that stood out for me:
1) Leo eats vegetables at school Carrots. Cucumber. Celery. They are big on oral motor “therapeutic eating” to get the kids to use different muscles to help encourage and improve speech. But back to my main point. Leo. Eats. Vegetables.
2) Leo not only sleeps during naptime but he apparently claps and dives onto the carpet where said nap takes place, when the announcement is made that it’s naptime. This is the same kid who will whine and cry and moan and attempt to dismantle the baseboard heater at home to avoid sleep. It’s hard enough to get him to bed at night but nap? No way, no how.
The whole thing was hilarious. None of the parents could get past certain points, that their kids did certain things (ate veggies, took a nap) that they absolutely refused to do at home. I almost felt the teacher getting frustrated. She wanted to move on and we just wanted to clarify that our kids truly did eat carrots and nap.
Like I said, Invasion of the Body Snatchers. Who is this vegetable eating nap taking kid that the teacher speaks of?
Tuesday, October 7, 2008
Weighing the Options
Is it just me, or is it always something?
I’m all over the place right now. A lot churning over and over in my mind.
We got some distressing news yesterday.
Our daycare, where Leo has gone since we moved to the suburbs and where Ellie has been going since I returned to work from maternity leave in January, has decided to increase our tuition. By A Lot. Like almost $500 more.
Excuse me while I burst into tears. I was SO upset yesterday. I actually gave myself a tension headache. All day long I felt like there was a black cloud over my head. I would forget for a moment specifically what was wrong and then I would remember and just cringe. I know, I know. It’s just money. It’s not a head injury (see last’s week’s near miss). But still. That’s a lot of freaking money. And it could not have come at a worse time.
Up until this point the center had been “accommodating” us by staying open 30 minutes past their usual closing time of 6 p.m. And we’d been paying a nominal extra fee. But times are tough all around I guess. And the center had hoped to attract other New York City commuting families by staying open later, but that did not happen. And so to stay open for just one family has apparently not proven to be worth it. Do I like the fact that my kids are the last ones to be picked up? No. But I have to work and this is our life. And honestly, I’ve got some very happy kids.
After speaking with the director this morning, I feel better. She advised me to write a letter to the center’s board, to perhaps come up with the amount of increase we could afford, and take it from there. I also made calls to some other centers. But it’s all so daunting, the idea of starting over, having to “explain” Leo, the idea of getting used to a new routine. Don’t get me wrong, I know that it wouldn't be the end of the world if we had to change centers but it’s good place and the kids are safe and happy there and I just wasn’t expecting upheaval. I don’t do change well, even if sometimes it’s for the best.
Another scenario I cooked up in my head was a nanny-share. Our babysitter (a former employee of the daycare center, actually) is now a nanny for another family. We spoke today very speculatively about a nanny-share scenario. Leo would take the bus to school (as he does now from the daycare) from this family’s house and return at 3pm. Ellie would spend all day with the family’s six month old and 3-year-old. I’m interested (I’m especially interested in the price, up to $1000 less than we’d pay after the increase, yikes!) but I’m hesitant. Ellie is Little Miss Social. I think she enjoys the chaos of daycare and she seems to really be thriving in the environment. I have no qualms about this potential nanny’s abilities, but I just worry that Ellie would be, well, bored. And it’s not like we still live in Brooklyn and she can just throw the kids in the double stroller and be out in the middle of the action of Park Slope. No, it’s the sleepy (read=boring) suburbs. And sure, we could pay for classes but there is the transportation issue. And once we add in money for “stimulation,” we might be paying what we did for daycare. It’s a real puzzle. I would be open to people’s thoughts on the matter. I’ve always been pro-daycare. I like the idea of multiple caregivers and the accountability of a center, rather than a home where you don’t “really” know what’s going on. But the money. Oh, the money.
On the other hand I think Leo would love a little more one-on-one time with the nanny and I think he’d have a ball with the three-year-old boy.
To say nothing of the fact that this other family might not even be interested in doing a share. This hasn’t stopped me from wondering if the share is even a good idea to begin with. This is me: worrying if something is a good idea even before it’s happened!
I just want to be able to breathe for five minutes and for there to be no drama. And I want someone to tell me what to do and what’s best for my kids. But wait, I’m the mom and that’s my job. Oh yeah.
Sometimes it just feels like it’s always something. I know, that’s life. It's just that sometimes it's really exhausting being a grown-up.
I’m all over the place right now. A lot churning over and over in my mind.
We got some distressing news yesterday.
Our daycare, where Leo has gone since we moved to the suburbs and where Ellie has been going since I returned to work from maternity leave in January, has decided to increase our tuition. By A Lot. Like almost $500 more.
Excuse me while I burst into tears. I was SO upset yesterday. I actually gave myself a tension headache. All day long I felt like there was a black cloud over my head. I would forget for a moment specifically what was wrong and then I would remember and just cringe. I know, I know. It’s just money. It’s not a head injury (see last’s week’s near miss). But still. That’s a lot of freaking money. And it could not have come at a worse time.
Up until this point the center had been “accommodating” us by staying open 30 minutes past their usual closing time of 6 p.m. And we’d been paying a nominal extra fee. But times are tough all around I guess. And the center had hoped to attract other New York City commuting families by staying open later, but that did not happen. And so to stay open for just one family has apparently not proven to be worth it. Do I like the fact that my kids are the last ones to be picked up? No. But I have to work and this is our life. And honestly, I’ve got some very happy kids.
After speaking with the director this morning, I feel better. She advised me to write a letter to the center’s board, to perhaps come up with the amount of increase we could afford, and take it from there. I also made calls to some other centers. But it’s all so daunting, the idea of starting over, having to “explain” Leo, the idea of getting used to a new routine. Don’t get me wrong, I know that it wouldn't be the end of the world if we had to change centers but it’s good place and the kids are safe and happy there and I just wasn’t expecting upheaval. I don’t do change well, even if sometimes it’s for the best.
Another scenario I cooked up in my head was a nanny-share. Our babysitter (a former employee of the daycare center, actually) is now a nanny for another family. We spoke today very speculatively about a nanny-share scenario. Leo would take the bus to school (as he does now from the daycare) from this family’s house and return at 3pm. Ellie would spend all day with the family’s six month old and 3-year-old. I’m interested (I’m especially interested in the price, up to $1000 less than we’d pay after the increase, yikes!) but I’m hesitant. Ellie is Little Miss Social. I think she enjoys the chaos of daycare and she seems to really be thriving in the environment. I have no qualms about this potential nanny’s abilities, but I just worry that Ellie would be, well, bored. And it’s not like we still live in Brooklyn and she can just throw the kids in the double stroller and be out in the middle of the action of Park Slope. No, it’s the sleepy (read=boring) suburbs. And sure, we could pay for classes but there is the transportation issue. And once we add in money for “stimulation,” we might be paying what we did for daycare. It’s a real puzzle. I would be open to people’s thoughts on the matter. I’ve always been pro-daycare. I like the idea of multiple caregivers and the accountability of a center, rather than a home where you don’t “really” know what’s going on. But the money. Oh, the money.
On the other hand I think Leo would love a little more one-on-one time with the nanny and I think he’d have a ball with the three-year-old boy.
To say nothing of the fact that this other family might not even be interested in doing a share. This hasn’t stopped me from wondering if the share is even a good idea to begin with. This is me: worrying if something is a good idea even before it’s happened!
I just want to be able to breathe for five minutes and for there to be no drama. And I want someone to tell me what to do and what’s best for my kids. But wait, I’m the mom and that’s my job. Oh yeah.
Sometimes it just feels like it’s always something. I know, that’s life. It's just that sometimes it's really exhausting being a grown-up.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Much needed Comic Relief and Fashion
Leo shows off his latest favorite thing to draw: a face. In the background: Satan Dog.
We truly have the world's most patient dog (looking much less Satan-like here). Yes, that is a bowl on Ruby's head.
I call this the Alex P. Keaton look.
Alex P. Keaton (the girl version). With tights! Did I mention how excited I am about tights?
An Easy Catch-All
Warning: whiney post. Read at your own risk.
I could so identify with Jen’s recent entry about whether to chalk up not so loved behavior to the Down syndrome or to Terrible Twos (or in my case, Frustrating Fours).
Lately Leo has had a hard time with the morning drop-off at daycare. It usually takes a good five minutes to get him from the car to the inside of the daycare. There is a lot of pleading on my part. I’ll try anything-counting (“I’m going to count to three and then we’re going to go inside and eat waffles, OK Leo?”) and just general, ridiculous (futile) reasoning. This morning, Me: “Leo I have a lot of bags, can you help me?”
Um, no.
Yes, adding to my frustration is that I am weighed down with Leo’s backpack, Ellie’s lunch box (more like a small cooler) and on Mondays, Ellie’s newly washed bedding and Leo’s nap blanket. And did I mention the nearly 25 pound toddler in my arms? (thank goodness she is content for me to carry her for now, what will I do when she wants to walk?) It is almost becoming a safety issue. It is not easy to run for Leo as he dashes into the parking lot while I’m balancing Ellie and many bags. Luckily he doesn’t dash like he used to but he does do it once in a while just to keep me on my toes. Mostly, it’s just the fact that he won’t move. And then there is the going limp.
Sometimes it’s adorable, how Leo takes his time, how he stops to “smell the roses,” examining every leaf and blade of grass, peeking in the building windows, needing to say hi to each and every child and parent.
But it can also be maddening. Usually I can at least get him inside the building but today, he actually layed down by the steps outside and began the whining. And he went limp.
I wanted to cry. I felt the tears coming. And what's even worse is that I felt myself really begining to lose my patience and this does not help matters. I watch the other parents with their kids walking in quietly and cooperatively, lunch boxes in hand, backpacks planted squarely on shoulders, and I wonder does it have to be this hard? Who knows if it’s the Down syndrome. Does he just not like Mondays? Does he just not like mornings? Does he suddenly hate daycare? Maybe it’s because he can’t precisely communicate WHY he’s upset. I know there are other kids who have a difficult transition time. They cry when their mommies leave. But for goodness sake at least can we get inside the building before the meltdown?
And he is fine five minutes after I leave. I get him settled in his class, his breakfast set out in front of him and he is whining, crawling under the table. As terrible as it sounds I have found the best remedy for this is for me to just go. I hate leaving him on that kind of a note but the teachers tell me he recovers quickly without me. And sure enough, after I drop Ellie off at her side of the building I like to peek into Leo’s class. And there he always is sitting in his little chair, sipping his smoothie, slowly and methodically, eating his oatmeal.
There are certainly plenty of maddening four year olds out there with just the right number of chromosomes. But it’s so much easier to blame that extra one. It’s my catch-all.
I could so identify with Jen’s recent entry about whether to chalk up not so loved behavior to the Down syndrome or to Terrible Twos (or in my case, Frustrating Fours).
Lately Leo has had a hard time with the morning drop-off at daycare. It usually takes a good five minutes to get him from the car to the inside of the daycare. There is a lot of pleading on my part. I’ll try anything-counting (“I’m going to count to three and then we’re going to go inside and eat waffles, OK Leo?”) and just general, ridiculous (futile) reasoning. This morning, Me: “Leo I have a lot of bags, can you help me?”
Um, no.
Yes, adding to my frustration is that I am weighed down with Leo’s backpack, Ellie’s lunch box (more like a small cooler) and on Mondays, Ellie’s newly washed bedding and Leo’s nap blanket. And did I mention the nearly 25 pound toddler in my arms? (thank goodness she is content for me to carry her for now, what will I do when she wants to walk?) It is almost becoming a safety issue. It is not easy to run for Leo as he dashes into the parking lot while I’m balancing Ellie and many bags. Luckily he doesn’t dash like he used to but he does do it once in a while just to keep me on my toes. Mostly, it’s just the fact that he won’t move. And then there is the going limp.
Sometimes it’s adorable, how Leo takes his time, how he stops to “smell the roses,” examining every leaf and blade of grass, peeking in the building windows, needing to say hi to each and every child and parent.
But it can also be maddening. Usually I can at least get him inside the building but today, he actually layed down by the steps outside and began the whining. And he went limp.
I wanted to cry. I felt the tears coming. And what's even worse is that I felt myself really begining to lose my patience and this does not help matters. I watch the other parents with their kids walking in quietly and cooperatively, lunch boxes in hand, backpacks planted squarely on shoulders, and I wonder does it have to be this hard? Who knows if it’s the Down syndrome. Does he just not like Mondays? Does he just not like mornings? Does he suddenly hate daycare? Maybe it’s because he can’t precisely communicate WHY he’s upset. I know there are other kids who have a difficult transition time. They cry when their mommies leave. But for goodness sake at least can we get inside the building before the meltdown?
And he is fine five minutes after I leave. I get him settled in his class, his breakfast set out in front of him and he is whining, crawling under the table. As terrible as it sounds I have found the best remedy for this is for me to just go. I hate leaving him on that kind of a note but the teachers tell me he recovers quickly without me. And sure enough, after I drop Ellie off at her side of the building I like to peek into Leo’s class. And there he always is sitting in his little chair, sipping his smoothie, slowly and methodically, eating his oatmeal.
There are certainly plenty of maddening four year olds out there with just the right number of chromosomes. But it’s so much easier to blame that extra one. It’s my catch-all.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
So Tired: Must Be Time to Go Back to Work
The end of a three day weekend (I took Friday as a vacation day although it was more of a get-all-the-errands-done day.) But still, it was nice.
I'm exhausted. It must be time to go back to work where I can get five minutes of peace!
All in all, a lovely weekend. Crisp, sunny, and full of lots of quality time with the Hooligans.
We went to the pumpkin patch today--sadly it was spur of the moment and therefore, no camera. But it was a lot of fun. A live blue grass band (Ellie was complimented on her dancing by one of the band members), an opportunity to paint pumpkins, and best of all, a kid's hay maze: a maze made of small stacks of hay rather than those tall, creepy corn stalks. It was Leo-sized and perfect for the claustrophobics in the crowd (me).
And the leaves are changing here. It's definitely, finally fall.
Leo gave me a lot of unsolicited hugs this weekend. He would be sitting at the kitchen table eating pizza and I would be standing at the sink washing dishes and suddenly I would feel his little arms around my knees. I guess other kids can just say "Mommy I love you," when they feel a wave of affection. Leo just hugs. I'm not complaining.
I'm exhausted. It must be time to go back to work where I can get five minutes of peace!
All in all, a lovely weekend. Crisp, sunny, and full of lots of quality time with the Hooligans.
We went to the pumpkin patch today--sadly it was spur of the moment and therefore, no camera. But it was a lot of fun. A live blue grass band (Ellie was complimented on her dancing by one of the band members), an opportunity to paint pumpkins, and best of all, a kid's hay maze: a maze made of small stacks of hay rather than those tall, creepy corn stalks. It was Leo-sized and perfect for the claustrophobics in the crowd (me).
And the leaves are changing here. It's definitely, finally fall.
Leo gave me a lot of unsolicited hugs this weekend. He would be sitting at the kitchen table eating pizza and I would be standing at the sink washing dishes and suddenly I would feel his little arms around my knees. I guess other kids can just say "Mommy I love you," when they feel a wave of affection. Leo just hugs. I'm not complaining.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Fall Saturday
Do you know that scene in "Thelma and Louise" where the Geena Davis character keeps stealing bites of a candy bar that she keeps in her refrigerator (or is it the freezer?). No matter. But that is me, tonight. But with wine. Red wine. Multiple, tiny glasses.
Today was basically Leo's dream day. Leo and I played in the playroom. Leo and played outside. Leo and I colored. Leo and I played Candy Land. Leo and I played his fishing game (his OT would love it). Erin had to work, a rarity for the weekend. So it was just the Hooligans and me. Ellie took a long, midday nap.
And now it is after 9 p.m. and Leo is attempting to dismantle the heater in his room and will not go to sleep.
Oy.
PS. Do not go to Costco because you are bored. A bad, bad idea.
Today was basically Leo's dream day. Leo and I played in the playroom. Leo and played outside. Leo and I colored. Leo and I played Candy Land. Leo and I played his fishing game (his OT would love it). Erin had to work, a rarity for the weekend. So it was just the Hooligans and me. Ellie took a long, midday nap.
And now it is after 9 p.m. and Leo is attempting to dismantle the heater in his room and will not go to sleep.
Oy.
PS. Do not go to Costco because you are bored. A bad, bad idea.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Reading is Fundamental. So is Sleep.
As I write this Leo is whimpering in his room. It is almost 9 p.m. and my goodness were those children wound up tonight.
Erin is stuck in horrific Friday night New York City traffic so I was on my own for this round.
Bedtime has become an Olympic Sport in our house. It involves a lot of acrobatic manuevers in Leo's room where there is not one, but two beds, much to the delight of Ellie. Her favorite thing is to climb Leo's toddler bed and stand on it, giving me several small heart attacks a night (I DO NOT need another emergency room visit). Leo has graduated to a twin bed and inertia has prevented us from doing anything with the toddler bed. Afterall, Ellie will need it...eventually.
I have been trying hard to read to both of them before bed but when they're together they seem to egg each other on with their energy and books are absolutely the last thing on their minds. But on Sunday I heard a wonderful program on This American Life where they said the single most important thing you can do for your child's intelligence is to read to them (Little Einstein and black and white baby mobiles be damned). Not exactly news to me, but validating nonetheless, as well as inspiring. Reading is easy and fun and cheap!
If this is true, Ellie is in trouble and she's well on her way to becoming an illiterate gymnast (she much prefers tumbling off that toddler bed to flipping through books by Boynton).
Leo has always been such a good reader. He loved to sit in my lap and flip through board books, almost from the start. Now, with the the two of them together, reading is a disaster! I will persevere. What else can I do?
PS. Erin finally came home. We caved and she went to lie down with him. Out like a light. When did bedtime become such a battle?
Erin is stuck in horrific Friday night New York City traffic so I was on my own for this round.
Bedtime has become an Olympic Sport in our house. It involves a lot of acrobatic manuevers in Leo's room where there is not one, but two beds, much to the delight of Ellie. Her favorite thing is to climb Leo's toddler bed and stand on it, giving me several small heart attacks a night (I DO NOT need another emergency room visit). Leo has graduated to a twin bed and inertia has prevented us from doing anything with the toddler bed. Afterall, Ellie will need it...eventually.
I have been trying hard to read to both of them before bed but when they're together they seem to egg each other on with their energy and books are absolutely the last thing on their minds. But on Sunday I heard a wonderful program on This American Life where they said the single most important thing you can do for your child's intelligence is to read to them (Little Einstein and black and white baby mobiles be damned). Not exactly news to me, but validating nonetheless, as well as inspiring. Reading is easy and fun and cheap!
If this is true, Ellie is in trouble and she's well on her way to becoming an illiterate gymnast (she much prefers tumbling off that toddler bed to flipping through books by Boynton).
Leo has always been such a good reader. He loved to sit in my lap and flip through board books, almost from the start. Now, with the the two of them together, reading is a disaster! I will persevere. What else can I do?
PS. Erin finally came home. We caved and she went to lie down with him. Out like a light. When did bedtime become such a battle?
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Not the Kind of Excitement I'm Looking For
Apparently Leo didn’t feel that my “31 for 21” posts should be as mundane as descriptions of Ellie’s shoes or the color of the living room walls.
He wanted me to regale you with tales of an emergency room visit.
Excuse me while I extract my heart from my throat. The good news is, he seems to be fine. If he was trying to make me appreciate him more than I already do (I guess he didn't read yesterday's post), it worked. It was unnecessary, but it worked.
It began benignly enough with the nightly bath. I took Ellie to her room to get dressed and read books and then settled in to nursing her (she’s back to nursing before bed for now). I heard a horrible thud, a house-shaking thud. I thought, what the? It couldn’t be…then, Erin calling for me. I dashed into the next room to find Leo sitting on the bed, crying, blood pouring from his mouth. At first we couldn’t even figure out where the blood was coming from but I was pretty sure he had bitten his lip or tongue.
Erin said he’d been playing/jumping on the bed (and our bed is tall, when they say deep pocket they aren’t kidding) when he just fell off. She said when he hit the floor he let out a scream and then held his breath which is what she thought then led him to pass out for about four seconds. She had to shake him to get him awake.
Good Lord, the drama!
To make a long story short, we mopped up the blood with a washcloth and consulted good old Spock who directed us to call the pediatrician. Since he’d lost consciousness, our doctor said we should probably take him to the ER.
My heart was pounding and my limbs felt like noodles from the adrenaline. Of course Leo thought it was great fun to put shoes on and get in the car and go for a drive with Mama at 9:30 pm (he even got to watch the in-car DVD, we figured it was the least we could do).
While they were at the hospital, I could not sit still. I did laundry (see, I knew I could get a mention of it in somehow) and paced around the house. I had, horrible, morbid thoughts and made Leo’s bed, tucking in the corners of his quilt, praying and willing for everything to be ok. I know, I know, he just fell off the bed, but if you could have heard that Thunk of his head hitting the hard wood. It was BAD.
At the hospital there was a cat scan, which came out normal, and a diagnosis of a concussion.
Erin and Leo arrived home shortly after midnight and soon after that an exhausted Leo passed out in our bed. I moved him into his bed around 2:30am. I fell asleep with Leo’s arm around me, a comforting end to a very stressful night.
Leo seemed fine this morning. I let him sleep in and he woke up in a good mood but starving, eating a breakfast fit for a lumber jack. Good appetite = OK, right? Since he got up late I took him to school myself, rather than having him catch the bus from daycare as usual. I was so grateful that everything seemed to be fine, I held him in my lap and read him books for a few minutes extra, rather than hurrying everyone into the car like most days. As he turned the pages, I rested my chin on his head, smelling his sweet hair.
That saying, “Hug your babies,” it’s corny but it’s so so true. It’s terrifying how something can just happen in an instant.
Please let this be the most exciting post I write for 31 for 21 because I may talk big, but I do not have the heart for this.
He wanted me to regale you with tales of an emergency room visit.
Excuse me while I extract my heart from my throat. The good news is, he seems to be fine. If he was trying to make me appreciate him more than I already do (I guess he didn't read yesterday's post), it worked. It was unnecessary, but it worked.
It began benignly enough with the nightly bath. I took Ellie to her room to get dressed and read books and then settled in to nursing her (she’s back to nursing before bed for now). I heard a horrible thud, a house-shaking thud. I thought, what the? It couldn’t be…then, Erin calling for me. I dashed into the next room to find Leo sitting on the bed, crying, blood pouring from his mouth. At first we couldn’t even figure out where the blood was coming from but I was pretty sure he had bitten his lip or tongue.
Erin said he’d been playing/jumping on the bed (and our bed is tall, when they say deep pocket they aren’t kidding) when he just fell off. She said when he hit the floor he let out a scream and then held his breath which is what she thought then led him to pass out for about four seconds. She had to shake him to get him awake.
Good Lord, the drama!
To make a long story short, we mopped up the blood with a washcloth and consulted good old Spock who directed us to call the pediatrician. Since he’d lost consciousness, our doctor said we should probably take him to the ER.
My heart was pounding and my limbs felt like noodles from the adrenaline. Of course Leo thought it was great fun to put shoes on and get in the car and go for a drive with Mama at 9:30 pm (he even got to watch the in-car DVD, we figured it was the least we could do).
While they were at the hospital, I could not sit still. I did laundry (see, I knew I could get a mention of it in somehow) and paced around the house. I had, horrible, morbid thoughts and made Leo’s bed, tucking in the corners of his quilt, praying and willing for everything to be ok. I know, I know, he just fell off the bed, but if you could have heard that Thunk of his head hitting the hard wood. It was BAD.
At the hospital there was a cat scan, which came out normal, and a diagnosis of a concussion.
Erin and Leo arrived home shortly after midnight and soon after that an exhausted Leo passed out in our bed. I moved him into his bed around 2:30am. I fell asleep with Leo’s arm around me, a comforting end to a very stressful night.
Leo seemed fine this morning. I let him sleep in and he woke up in a good mood but starving, eating a breakfast fit for a lumber jack. Good appetite = OK, right? Since he got up late I took him to school myself, rather than having him catch the bus from daycare as usual. I was so grateful that everything seemed to be fine, I held him in my lap and read him books for a few minutes extra, rather than hurrying everyone into the car like most days. As he turned the pages, I rested my chin on his head, smelling his sweet hair.
That saying, “Hug your babies,” it’s corny but it’s so so true. It’s terrifying how something can just happen in an instant.
Please let this be the most exciting post I write for 31 for 21 because I may talk big, but I do not have the heart for this.
Wednesday, October 1, 2008
31 for 21: I'm In!
October is National Down syndrome Awareness Month and so for the next 31 days (gulp) I will attempt to blog every day in an attempt to bring more awareness to Down syndrome. Some posts will be about Down syndrome, some posts will probably be about laundry, deep thoughts about why Leo won't pee on the potty, descriptions of the cuteness of some new shoes I bought for Ellie and what color I wish I could paint my living room walls.
I hope you'll join me.
31 for 21 Post #1: What's in a Name
Everything Happens For a Reason. You’d think I was some kind of cloying, insufferable Pollyanna with a blog named that. I guess I can be, (I got called spunky the other day-that was a first!) but I can also be moody, sarcastic, dark and mean. Can a person be both negative and hopeful? Because I think that’s me.
I named my blog that, because that is sort of my mantra for life. With my journalism background, I am constantly asking questions. Why? What’s the meaning behind that? Why is that so? What I’m learning is that sometimes there is no answer.
As the old Yiddish proverb says, “We make plans, god laughs.”
***
As regular readers of my blog already know, my mom died of colon cancer eight years ago when she was 49. In the months and years after she died, I felt some sort of stupid shield, a protective cloak, covering me. As though Bad Stuff is somehow doled out in this world in equal portions, as though my mom wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me ever again. After all, I met my wonderful partner only a few months before my mom died. I thought that somehow, my mom had helped Erin find me. That even though my mom had died, everything else was Going To Be OK. I’d had my One Bad Thing happen. I was safe. What can I say? I was young.
And then Leo was born. And I saw my perfect, screaming, wriggling, red-headed baby boy held up in front of me. And I was so relieved, because there had been a scary emergency c-section and some very tense moments. But he was finally here and everything was OK.
And then three minutes later the attending pediatrian leaned over and told me our baby boy most likely had Down syndrome. And then I wanted to die.
How was it possible? How could something so unspeakable happen to me again?
We all have challenges in life, but some people seem to get bigger servings (and don't get me wrong, in no way am I implying that Down syndrome is unspeakable-if anything I've learned that in the grand scheme of "awful" things, Down syndrome is practically like winning the lottery).
I have no explanation for why certain things happen, I can only chalk it up to “everything happens for a reason.” Does it sound passive? I don’t think so. In my journey through the not so wonderful (as well as the many wonderful!) things that I’ve experienced in my life, I am trying to find the meaning behind them, but I am also learning to accept that some things just Are.
When we found out Leo had Down syndrome, I did not feel “blessed” with an extra chromosome. I felt robbed of the perfect baby I was expecting. I felt furious at all the people in the hospital that day who got to hold their babies while mine was being stabbed and tortured in the NICU. I did not feel that Leo had “chosen” us because we could “handle” it. No, I felt like the unluckiest, cursed person. I felt like at some point I must have done something very awful, for something like this to have happened. Mostly I felt that nothing would ever be OK again.
Of course, I’ve come a long way from those dark first days and months after Leo’s diagnosis. When people told me it would get better I couldn’t imagine how. Now I know.
Is there a “reason” Leo has Down syndrome? Is there a reason the little egg that he was was a little sticky on that November day when he was conceived in a fertility specialists’ office on Madison Avenue? We’ll never know. And it doesn’t matter.
What matters now is that Leo, now four, brings a smile to nearly everyone he meets.
And this is what else I know about Leo: A group of people who work at the Trader Joe’s we frequent stop working when they see Leo so they can get hugs (I know, we’re not supposed to encourage this but it’s so hard-Leo was born to hug). Leo hates to see other children cry and is usually the first to console a peer with a stuffed animal and a tender hug and pat on the back. He eats vanilla ice cream like it’s an endangered species and he’s the only person I’ve ever met who can smile and whistle at the same time.
And what I know now, that I didn’t know on that gray, insufferably humid, July day that Leo was born, is that no one is perfect and yet at the same time, we are all perfect. Because we are all exactly who we were meant to be. With all our faults, our bad habits, all the things we don't excel at (I for one am a disaster at math and complicated science and don't even get me started on my inability to put even the simplest piece of "some assembly required" furniture together). And that's just the beginning of my faults.
No, Leo doesn’t have the “right” number of chromosomes. It breaks my heart to think there are people who look at him as a "mistake." Sure, he didn’t sit indepently until he was ten months old. He didn’t walk until he was two. He can be as stubborn as a donkey and he’s stronger than a college wrestler (try getting him upstairs when he doesn’t want to go to bed). But he’s perfect.
Leo, a few weeks old, August 2004
Leo, age four, August 2008
Leo is perfect, just as he is.
I named my blog that, because that is sort of my mantra for life. With my journalism background, I am constantly asking questions. Why? What’s the meaning behind that? Why is that so? What I’m learning is that sometimes there is no answer.
As the old Yiddish proverb says, “We make plans, god laughs.”
***
As regular readers of my blog already know, my mom died of colon cancer eight years ago when she was 49. In the months and years after she died, I felt some sort of stupid shield, a protective cloak, covering me. As though Bad Stuff is somehow doled out in this world in equal portions, as though my mom wouldn’t let anything bad happen to me ever again. After all, I met my wonderful partner only a few months before my mom died. I thought that somehow, my mom had helped Erin find me. That even though my mom had died, everything else was Going To Be OK. I’d had my One Bad Thing happen. I was safe. What can I say? I was young.
And then Leo was born. And I saw my perfect, screaming, wriggling, red-headed baby boy held up in front of me. And I was so relieved, because there had been a scary emergency c-section and some very tense moments. But he was finally here and everything was OK.
And then three minutes later the attending pediatrian leaned over and told me our baby boy most likely had Down syndrome. And then I wanted to die.
How was it possible? How could something so unspeakable happen to me again?
We all have challenges in life, but some people seem to get bigger servings (and don't get me wrong, in no way am I implying that Down syndrome is unspeakable-if anything I've learned that in the grand scheme of "awful" things, Down syndrome is practically like winning the lottery).
I have no explanation for why certain things happen, I can only chalk it up to “everything happens for a reason.” Does it sound passive? I don’t think so. In my journey through the not so wonderful (as well as the many wonderful!) things that I’ve experienced in my life, I am trying to find the meaning behind them, but I am also learning to accept that some things just Are.
When we found out Leo had Down syndrome, I did not feel “blessed” with an extra chromosome. I felt robbed of the perfect baby I was expecting. I felt furious at all the people in the hospital that day who got to hold their babies while mine was being stabbed and tortured in the NICU. I did not feel that Leo had “chosen” us because we could “handle” it. No, I felt like the unluckiest, cursed person. I felt like at some point I must have done something very awful, for something like this to have happened. Mostly I felt that nothing would ever be OK again.
Of course, I’ve come a long way from those dark first days and months after Leo’s diagnosis. When people told me it would get better I couldn’t imagine how. Now I know.
Is there a “reason” Leo has Down syndrome? Is there a reason the little egg that he was was a little sticky on that November day when he was conceived in a fertility specialists’ office on Madison Avenue? We’ll never know. And it doesn’t matter.
What matters now is that Leo, now four, brings a smile to nearly everyone he meets.
And this is what else I know about Leo: A group of people who work at the Trader Joe’s we frequent stop working when they see Leo so they can get hugs (I know, we’re not supposed to encourage this but it’s so hard-Leo was born to hug). Leo hates to see other children cry and is usually the first to console a peer with a stuffed animal and a tender hug and pat on the back. He eats vanilla ice cream like it’s an endangered species and he’s the only person I’ve ever met who can smile and whistle at the same time.
And what I know now, that I didn’t know on that gray, insufferably humid, July day that Leo was born, is that no one is perfect and yet at the same time, we are all perfect. Because we are all exactly who we were meant to be. With all our faults, our bad habits, all the things we don't excel at (I for one am a disaster at math and complicated science and don't even get me started on my inability to put even the simplest piece of "some assembly required" furniture together). And that's just the beginning of my faults.
No, Leo doesn’t have the “right” number of chromosomes. It breaks my heart to think there are people who look at him as a "mistake." Sure, he didn’t sit indepently until he was ten months old. He didn’t walk until he was two. He can be as stubborn as a donkey and he’s stronger than a college wrestler (try getting him upstairs when he doesn’t want to go to bed). But he’s perfect.
Leo, a few weeks old, August 2004
Leo, age four, August 2008
Leo is perfect, just as he is.
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