It Gets Better: Bounce House, ENT and Primal Screaming Edition

A few rainy weekends ago, Leo and Ellie were blessedly invited to a birthday party at one of those bounce places. I'm not kidding when I say I was GRATEFUL for that party. At 3:47 p.m., after three hours of "STOP IT LEO" and "GET OUTTA MY ROOM ELLIE!" and the ensuing tears and shoves, I was positively ecstatic to drive thirty minutes in a downpour so they could jump and bounce and slide and get out of the house and out of my hair. The twins stayed home with Erin and I got to drink Diet Coke and chat with some old friends from Leo's preschool days (and yes, big kid birthday parties qualify as "Me Time" these days).

Ellie and Leo prepare to mount the "velcro wall."

After about an hour and fifteen minutes, the children (a mixture of nine and ten year olds with Down syndrome and their typical siblings) were unequivocally All Bounced Out. Parents and children filed into the party room across the hall where cheese pizza slices were impeccably arranged on "Despicable Me" plates. All twenty little pink faced people gratefully sipped pink lemonade out of Minion adorned cups while music from various Disney movies played from some far away iPod. When "Let it Go" came on, Leo had to stand up and step away from his pizza to belt out the lyrics (complete with hand gestures). No one batted an eye or even seemed to notice.

As I sat and watched this group of children, most of whom I've known since Leo was three years old (!) it hit me. I remember attending this particular birthday boy's parties back when I had to cut Leo's pizza into bite sized pieces. When I had to watch him every single second and find all the exits as soon as we arrived, to make sure he didn't find one. When I had Ellie, a squirmy toddler in tow and I dreaded attending birthday parties with the two of them because it was so hard to keep track of Leo and Ellie at the same time. And what if I had to change a dirty diaper? That would mean trying to pry a transition-challenged Leo from doing something he loved. In other words? Nightmare.

To say nothing of his escapist tendencies at that age. All those tunnels and nooks and crannies used to practically give me angina. He was a runner. And a hider. And it was the opposite of fun (for me, at least).

But at this recent bounce party I found myself lost in conversation several times. Every once in a while I would look up and think--Huh. I guess I should check on Leo. And Ellie. And I did. And they were fine. But I didn't have heart palpitations when I couldn't spot Leo immediately and I didn't have to tear pizza into bite sized pieces and I didn't have to chase a toddler down a hall. Not even once.



A few weeks after the party, I took Leo to his annual appointment with the ENT (ear, nose and throat doctor). He got a clean bill of health and it turns out he doesn't need his allergy medication anymore. Leo was a little wary at first and none too thrilled with the exam (who likes having little instruments stuck in their ears?), but he cooperated just fine, didn't cry or kick me (or the doctor-hey, it's happened!) in the shins or the stomach. There were a tense few seconds when I didn't think he'd sit for the hearing test (why oh why don't they employ more kid-friendly audiologists I will NEVER UNDERSTAND) but we rallied and he did it and we can check off that little box (and by the way, Leo's hearing is just fine).

Speaking of angina, I practically have PTSD from all those years of traumatic ENT appointments. The second I'm in that waiting room it all comes crashing back. The flailing. The tears. But the fact that Leo now cooperates and I don't have to chase him around the waiting room or drag him kicking and screaming from the play area to the exam room or hold him down while he wails and stiffens and punches? I will never not be grateful that it is So Much Better. Now.



There are a multitude of things that are helpful and remarkable about having a multitude of children, one of which being that as they get older, they give you (even more dramatically than one or two might, I think) the gift of perspective. As a parent, when things are hard, it's so easy to feel stuck and frustrated, to think, It's ALWAYS Going To Be This Way. I absolutely love the ages Leo and Ellie are right now. It feels kind of perfect. Aside from the fact that the two of them fight with each other quite a bit (talk about typical behavior--I should be relieved, right?), they are genuinely fun to be with. We have interesting conversations. We laugh. I'm never worried one of them is going to take off in public and if I can't see one of them as they round the corner of an aisle at the store, I don't get that sick, poison-in-my-veins feeling that I used to get when I lost sight of Leo, or that I get now when Lucy wanders off from me at checkout line at Target when I'm momentarily distracted trying to activate my "Cartwheel" app (Ugh and true story).

Speaking of Lucy, I've written here about our, shall we say, challenges with her, of late. Or perhaps I should say they are my challenges with her. At any rate, her latest is trick is screaming when she doesn't get what she wants. Sounds simple, right?

Well, it's not. Because I mean, S-C-R-E-A-M-I-N-G. I know this is something that almost-three-year olds do. I've just never had an almost three year old that's done it.

When Lucy doesn't get what she wants (not every time, but often enough) she digs deep into her tiny body and, like a cornered animal, out comes something from, well, another world. Harry reacts by covering one ear, turning his head and whimpering. Leo covers both ears and sometimes screams back (yeah, that's fun). Ellie raises her shoulders to her ears and says, "Oh Lucy." I...do the best I can, but admittedly have been known to react less gracefully than I could.



Not allowed to wash her hands at the kitchen sink (which isn't as simple as it sounds--it involves moving the rug in front of the sink, scraping the kitchen chair across the room)? SCREAM!!! Denied chocolate animal cookies at 6:45 a.m.? SCREAM!!! Asked pleasantly to Please put her shoes on so we can go pick Ellie up from school? SCREAM!!!

But. I know from seeing it over and over again in Leo and Ellie that this too shall pass (which remains one of my favorite parenting tips). As quickly as Lucy discovered this talent is as quickly as it will disappear (though perhaps not as swiftly as we'd all like it to).

And I just know that Lucy and I have an endless number of carefree bounce house parties in our future.

Looking Back and Laughing: Ears and Donuts Edition

The big kids had the day off on Monday (President's Day). So of course, they played school. By the way, don't let this placid little scene fool you. These moments of calm are few and far between (but I do treasure them). Check out Lucy, who seems to think she's a first grader (shhh, don't tell her the truth).

Certain days, well, you just know they're going to be one of Those Days. One of those days you will look back on and laugh and also think: We made it through. And we managed to laugh a few times and? We even got donuts.

Lucy and Harry had been growing increasingly fussy in the last few days. I'd chalked it up to teething or maybe the cold that had trickled down from one big kid to the next had finally caught up to them. I'll be honest. I don't usually call out the big guns (pediatrician) unless sleep is interfered. By Sunday night, that's exactly what happened. By mid-morning Monday, Lucy and Harry were confirmed miserable human beings: beady, teary red eyes, arms outstretched for almost constant uppy (Lucy), while others stumbled around the house, aimless and frustrated, a slobbery, whiny tangle of drool and fingers (Harry).

I knew it was time to trek to the doctor. This week, among the many things I am grateful for are days off and pediatricians that remain open on legal holidays.

There are a few things in life I try to avoid at all costs and one of them is taking all four children to the doctor. Between the enormous double stroller and the other two kids, oh I get the pity stare. The waiting can be interminable, even with the endless loop of Disney Jr. But Monday? The Waiting Gods smiled upon us. I didn't even get a chance to sit down before the nurse called us into the biggest room they have (we needed it).

Lucy and Harry had immediate, confirmed ear infections (Yay!). I realize that might be a strange reaction but I'll be honest: I'm always a bit relieved when "off" behavior is confirmed and the trip to the doctor is not for nothing. As the doctor stood at the sink writing up the prescriptions, I started packing things up. That's when Leo climbed up on the exam table and demanded a work-up.

"Eh, he has a cold but I think he's fine," I said. "He's old and sturdy."

 Everyone at the pediatrician's office loves Leo (whenever I go in without him, everyone asks for him) including this particular doctor. She set the prescription pad down and went to him, calmly listened to his chest and looked in his ears. It's been over a year since Leo magically shed his doctor fears. The fact that he placidly sits to get his ears inspected (volunteers to do it, even!) still almost takes my breath away, after all those years of tears and getting kicked in the shins trying to restrain him during a simple ENT visit.  I am so proud of him and so very relieved for those difficult days to be behind us.

And then: "He actually has an ear infection too!" the doctor announced.

And the award for Number One Mom goes to...

Of course Ellie stepped up next (she checked out just fine). Hey, three out of four isn't a terrible ratio. I guess? (Although it is a new family record.)*

We gathered our coats and hats and gloves and various stuffed animals and walked toward home in the blinding sun of a bitterly cold February afternoon, the big kids scaling snow drifts leftover from last week's storm.

There's a Dunkin Donuts on the way and I knew there would be a request for it --I immediately said yes (lemons out of lemonade, anyone?), even though the twins were teetering precariously on the edge of nap time. Of course we couldn't make it through a simple donut stop without massive fussing (Hi tired, sick babies!). And since Leo's slow eating is the stuff that legends are made from (I knew he'd be there a while), Ellie and I took the babies outside and parked the stroller in front of the window where Leo was sitting. He finished up his strawberry frosted with sprinkles and we were on our way.


2/3 of the sickies, Monday morning. 

*Edited to add that Ellie woke up this morning complaining of a sore ear so it looks like we are officially four for four. Yesssssssssssss!

31 for 21: Here's the Thing

Warning: It's not all about Down syndrome around here. In fact, it's hardly about Down syndrome at all. (If anyone had told me, eight years ago, that I would someday write that as a caption for a photograph of two of my four children (Wait, WHAT?) I would not have ever believed them). This just goes to show you: You truly never know what will happen in your life.

I know you are all waiting in rapt suspense to see whether or not I will participate in  this year's "31 for 21" (blogging every day for the month of October in honor Down syndrome Awareness).

I'm torn. Part of me likes it as an exercise in writing (and sticking to something for an entire month is kind of fun). Selfishly, it's nice for me to have one good chunk of writing to look back on, since I don't post here nearly as much as I like to. But then there is the little matter of what to write? I know everyone says "you don't have to write about Down syndrome" but I do feel added pressure to somehow tie in the old extra chromosome, at least in some posts. I've written so much about Down syndrome that there is some level of performance anxiety involved now. Mostly, I don't want to repeat myself and bore you all to tears (any more than I already do-ha!).

And here's a funny thing: I started this blog in 2008 when my oldest son Leo was four, thinking I'd write mostly about Down syndrome, and that's indeed mostly what I wrote about. I started it as a way to process this Big Thing that had happened in my life and also with the hope that I would find a larger Down syndrome community beyond the one I'd found locally (which was fine, wonderful even, but for some things, more is more). I found that wonderful community, in spades.

I feel like I have beaten the Down syndrome horse. I wrote about our struggles with Leo's sleep and his behavior, about the hand wringing surrounding his school placement, about his eyes and ears and his adenoids and his teeth. I wrote about the grief surrounding his diagnosis and the eventual acceptance.

And then Leo graduated from preschool. Then kindergarten. Suddenly the language delayed little boy would Not Stop Talking.

And then his baby sister grew into a little girl.

And then two more little people came along, and then we were six. Then twin babies became toddlers. Life got even busier and more ridiculous (mostly in a good way).

And Leo still (obviously) has Down syndrome, but I think with every year that goes by, the Down syndrome has receded into something that just is. It's no longer at the forefront. All the questions are gradually being answered. Will he walk and talk? Of course.  Will he read and write? Oh yes. Will he stop running off in public places? Yes, thank goodness. Will his speech improve? Gradually, yes. Of course, knock on wood, we've been very fortunate have none of the major health problems that can be associated with Down syndrome. We've had the privilege of relative normalcy. At least, it's what's normal for us.

All of this to say, I think that mundane, not all Down syndrome, all the time can also be a contribution in this whole "31 for 21." Because to this day I remember the feeling of waking up in the mornings that followed Leo's birth, rolling over and looking at the light coming through the window of our little garden apartment in Park Slope Brooklyn, thinking: "My baby has Down syndrome. My baby has Down syndrome. And that's all I will ever think about again."

Because of course that's the farthest thing from the truth.

But in the early days, when Down syndrome loomed as The Worst Thing That Ever Happened To Me? I would have given anything to stumble onto a blog that talked about "American Horror Story" (I've decided I'm absolutely too scared to watch season two), the best Thai food in Portland, Oregon, the paper dolls I scored on eBay and Oh My Goodness You Won't Believe The Cute Thing The Babies Did Today. And did I mention my oldest son has Down syndrome? And that it's honestly (most days) no big deal?


If that's the kind of blog you're looking for? Then you've come to the right place.


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Some Finery, Some Answers and Some Hope

Know what’s always good for a laugh?

Trying to get four kids to look in the same direction, at the same time.

As you can see, we donned our Easter finery on Sunday. Lucy wore hers for all of forty-five minutes before there was a major wardrobe malfunction (in her case, a massive leakage issue). That explains the pink sleeper while everyone else wore crisp shirts and a dress (OK, full disclosure: Harry paired his dress shirt with jogging pants).


Last week was a doozy. Poor little Ellie came down with a nasty case of bronchitis and had to stay home from school for two days (of course she did, right as I returned to work because isn’t that just how life is?). Poor thing was sicker than I’ve seen her for a long time, maybe ever. On the first day the illness really hit, she came home from school, made herself a little bed on the couch and passed out. No dinner. At one point she even told me she was Too tired to watch TV. Can you imagine?

Everyone keeps asking me how it it's going being back at work. Work is fine, great, the same. I'm slowly acclimating to the luxury of having a moment to complete a task or thought (or both!). I think I spent the first week in a bit of a shock. I ate lunch by myself without it getting cold. And here's more progress: it wasn't string cheese, Goldfish crackers and cold coffee!

Oh sure I arrive at work most mornings to find snot or spit-up on one of my shoulders but, hey. With the way things are at our house, I really wouldn't expect anything different. The routine is getting more, well, routine. Definitely the hours between 5 p.m. (when I usually leave work) to 10 p.m. (when I can finally sit down after the kids are in bed, dinner dishes are finished and the next day's lunches are made) are more than a little frenetic. Staying home is ridiculous, leaving the house and getting all the kids where they need to be and picking them all up on time is ridiculous. But you know what? We enjoy ourselves much of the time, so that's what counts. Because life isn't going to get any less ridiculous for some time. If ever.

Friday was Leo’s follow-up appointment with the ENT, on the recommendation of both of Leo’s speech therapists. I did feel slightly vindicated when, upon answering the doctor's question as to why we were there ("to address how his chronic congestion might be affecting his speech intelligibility") the doctor took one look at me as if to say, Really?

He said congestion is not usually related to intelligibility. I mean, it could and sometimes does make some letters sound not quite right but not to the extent that Leo's speech is affected. So. The good news is, Leo is fine. No fluid in his ears, his adenoids haven’t grown back and his tonsils are right as rain. The doctor did note that he was very congested so he put him on a nasal spray, nasonex. The congestion may be seasonal allergies and while certainly not helping his intelligibility, it's not affecting it much at all.

But I buried the lead (again). For the first time ever, Leo was a rock star ENT patient. He sat quietly and calmly while the doctor peered into his ears and nose and throat. Oh sure he giggled when the spaghetti shaped tube went up his nose (I think you would have too--actually he took it much better than I think I would have). You may recall that the last time I took Leo to the ENT I was approximately twelve years pregnant with two babies. After a brief, semi-violent (Leo shoved the doctor) attempt to examine Leo, the doctor forbid me from trying to hold Leo down in my condition and announced Leo would need sedation for a proper exam. The only reason I agreed to that was it would allow us to do a proper hearing test.

Taking Leo to the ENT used to practically give me hives it was so stressful. Inevitably someone left in tears and sometimes both of us did. But I’m here to tell you that there is light at the end of the stressful doctor visit tunnel. He was similarly amazing at his last sick visit at the pediatrician's.

Dare I say we've turned a corner?

Wherein the Most Relaxing Part of My Week So Far Was the Pediatrician's Office. The Second Trip In One Day. And No I'm Not Kidding

You would think that I, having been Leo's mom for as long as I have, would no longer be capable of being surprised by my boy. But oh, he still shocks me, so often in good and wonderful ways. And I should be ashamed of myself for forgetting this fact.

It might sound strange and unbelievable, but the most relaxing part of today, of the week so far, was the last-minute, late afternoon trip to the pediatrician's office that Leo and I took together.

It all started last night when I sat nursing Harry at Who Knows What Hour and listened to the gravelly wheezes of Lucy in her crib as she slept. Or tried to. Harry didn't sound much better. Their little coughs and rasps have been going on at least a week now and I knew it was time to get them to the doctor. Leo, at seven and a half seems so much sturdier, so I wasn't too worried about his cough. But when the pediatrician pronounced pneumonitis in the twins this morning, I knew it was time to get Leo into the doctor.

Today was one long stream of camp drop-offs and pick-ups and trying to get the babies to sleep and eat "solid" food in between and taking them to the pediatrician. Once I realized Leo should be seen by the doctor too, I told myself that if I had to take all four kids to the doctor by myself at the end of the day (aka Witching Hour) that I might as well buy myself a one-way ticket to Crazy Town while I was at it. So I texted our babysitter. Thank the Lord she was available.

Leo was NOT happy that he didn't get to stay with our beloved babysitter but Ellie and the babies did. He was even less celebratory when we pulled into the parking lot of our pediatrician. The poor guy knew. But we rallied. He found his seat in the waiting room and read books. To himself. By himself. Who is this big kid I have, suddenly, who is too cool to be read to?

In the exam room (where we had a lot of quality time, a good hour while we waited to be seen by the doctor), we joked and chatted and Leo drew pictures. He told me about his day at camp, which included a visit to a local arcade/amusement park where he rode a "big slide" and bumper cars. I'd would have paid money to see that. As much as I think siblings are great, Leo (like most kids I'm sure) is just a different creature when he's just one on one. When I can pour all my attention on him, he's just a sweet little gentleman.

But I'm burying the lead, which is that not only did Leo allow the doctor to listen to his heart and lungs without protest, but he also stood stonily still as the doctor examined his throat and, drum roll please, HIS EARS. Longtime readers will not the enormity of this news. When our doctor suggested he'd like Leo to use an inhaler I squirmed. That didn't sound like something he'd go for. But shame on me, because when the doctor pulled out the inhaler and explained it was something that "pilots use" (it looks a little like the mask you'd use on an airplane in the event that oxygen becomes an "issue"), Leo was all for it and huffed and puffed into that little inhaler like he was born to do it.

Our next stop was the local Mom & Pop pharmacy to fill all three prescriptions (yes, three out of four of the kids are on antibiotics. Oh, the awesomeness). Leo befriended the pharmacy manager. Within a few minutes of our arrival, he had Leo sweeping and straightening shelves. Also there were some high-fives and fist bumping.

When it was time to go, the pharmacy manager walked us out to the car into the cold night. I thanked him and he told me "he had fun too" and that we made his day.

You can't really ask for more than that, can you?

Up next: Conquering the Great Haircut Terrors.

Sedated ABR: Check

A little loopy on the pre-op sedative. Can you tell?

The sedated ABR last week was a success. While they were in there, no evidence of fluid was found, so one tube was removed (geez they're tiny--they gave it to us in a specimen cup)--the other had already fallen out. Leo's hearing is nearly normal except for some loss at low level frequencies. That's a relief.

It's the first procedure of Leo's I've not been present for. That made me feel strange and a little sad.

Now, if we'd just mustered the courage to ask the anesthesiologist to cut Leo's hair while he was under.

Ears: Cause It’s Not All Babies and Complaining Around Here. Honest.

Lest anyone get truly fed up with me and my pregnancy whining, I will say that there are other things going on here aside from Babies.

Since once the babies (oops, I mentioned them) are born I’ll never do anything normal again/leave the house (I kid, I kid, ahem), the last two months have been Operation Take Leo To See All His Specialists. Thankfully, that list has dwindled over the years and we’re down to just the opthamologist and ENT. Last week we paid a much overdue visit to the ENT and it was, as expected, Not Fun (you may recall that Leo had his adenoids out in December 2009 and is on I think his fourth set of tubes). The ENT is also, without a doubt, Leo's least favorite doctor.

So, for the record, Leo is officially too big and strong to hold down for an exam (my being twelve months pregnant does add to the challenge of restraining him, I’m sure).

No, it was definitely not the greatest appointment. The doctor seemed a little impatient with Leo’s uneasiness (make that a polite word for absolute terror). I know he’s busy but, I don’t know, the doctor just could have been a little more, encouraging? Warmer? It probably wouldn’t have made a difference but I guess I always leave those sort of appointments wondering what I could have done differently to make it better. I tried to hold Leo down in my usual pose of hold his trunk arms down and pin his legs between mine but he was having nothing of it. And he is strong. The doctor made a one-quarter second attempt to look in Leo’s ears before pronouncing it “impossible” and that Leo would “need to be sedated.”

This, after a thirty minute wait.

Not to mention, sedated? Wait just a minute, I protested. Sedated? Really?

I’d be lying if I said this didn’t more than irritate me. I mean, I get that Leo can be an absolute beast at the doctor’s, when he’s, you know, terrified. But still. It just seemed so extreme. I realize the doctor was thinking of Leo’s safety (tiny instruments in the ears of a flailing body = not good) as well as mine (kicked in stomach right now = not good). But, still. I guess I’m just not rushing to sedate my kid for convenience sake, you know?

I convinced Dr. Impatient to get some more reinforcements in, after he mumbled something about me in my “condition” and not wanting anything to happen to me. Two nurses emerged and Leo kicked one of the exam tools across the room. Awesome. Luckily, the doctor was able to get a long enough look that time to see that one of Leo’s tubes was out, so at least we knew something. There could be an actual reason for sedation, other than just convenience.

More discussion. Sedation would also allow for a sedated ABR (hearing test), in addition to a full, non-traumatic exam. The sedated ABR actually really excites me since it’s been, oh, since birth that Leo has had an actual hearing exam (he’s been either too afraid or uncooperative all the other times). His current speech therapist has been on me about getting Leo tested, not because she’s specifically concerned with hearing loss, but it’s always a possibility. I guess.

So, sedated ABR and possible tube replacement surgery is slated for mid-June.

And, as is tradition for all of Leo’s ENT appointments, a few years were shaved off my life.

Friday Rant With a Large Glass of Whine

We’ve had a rough couple of days around here. To borrow the words of my former idol Dan Savage: "Kids are like heroin, a little heroin addiction. When it’s bad, you’ve never been so miserable, but when it’s good you’ve never been so high."

I’m not sure what’s been going on with Leo. I’m hoping he’s just tired, still getting into the swing of back-to-school. The only way I can explain it is he’s just been very angry. Hitting me. Kicking me. Uncooperative. Not helpful. Every other word is no. Bribery is the only way I can get him to do anything. Where is my sweet boy?

It all came to a head last night when I picked him up from after care. When I arrived he was sitting, angelic, reading a book. He barely acknowledged me, which is unlike him. Most nights both kids run towards me like I’m the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus, with shrieks of “Mommy! My Mommy’s here!” (it’s one of the best parts of my day). But not last night. Leo did not want to leave with me and he most certainly did not want to leave without the book he was reading.

I tried to usher him out of the room and towards the cubby where coats and bags are housed. Leo kicked. He cried. He punched. Once the baby gate to the room where he'd been reading was closed, he tried to crawl over the gate. He shook the door knob of the closed door and pounded on the window.

Time was, when Leo was smaller and stubborn and angry and pulled something like this, I could just scoop him up and take him wherever we needed to go. Sure, he often went “limp noodle,” but it was still doable. He was malleable. Well, at fifty pounds he’s not so malleable. Plus, he’s old enough to know better, and he does know better. But once he sets his mind on something—a book, a toy, whatever…it’s Look. Out.

Leo acted last night the way he often did at the old after care program. They were not so strict and would let him “borrow” whatever it was he wanted to take. Where he is now, they are not so lenient, and I can understand why but still, it’s tempting to wish we could just cut corners and borrow the damn book for the night.

Instead, Leo sat in the dark outside the school at the bottom of the stairs while I struggled to get Ellie (who was also not being so cooperative) into her car seat. Meanwhile, Leo cried. He wailed, “book! Book!” Our one saving grace was that it wasn’t 15 degrees out (it’s going to be in the balmy high 40s today, can you believe it?).

When I asked him if he was going to stay at the school and sleep on the stairs he lay down and started snoring.

Transitions can just be so maddeningly hard.

Finally I broke down and promised he could watch a DVD in the car (I detest that DVD player and only use it in extreme situations—this one definitely fit the bill).

Three minutes later we were on our way, tucked into car seats, munching on Goldfish and grooving to Dora (though of course there was an argument between Leo and Ellie as to what we’d watch—there was full on whining about Mickey Mouse and not Dora).

***

Not to get all Whine Fest 2010 but the “bad trip” (going with that heroin analogy here even though, No, I’m not into heroin, sheesh) seemed to begin on Wednesday when we went to Leo’s follow-up to his adenoid removal/ear tube surgery.

The good news is, Leo’s ears are healing well and his chronic congestion seems to have subsided (for now). The bad news is, we waited over an hour just to see the doctor and then another hour for the hearing test which Leo flat out refused.

One look at the (admittedly, a little creepy) booth where the test is administered and Leo was transformed into first a wild animal: “No! No! No!.” (and for full, dramatic effect, crawling under chairs in waiting room), followed by a deer in headlights expression. When the people in the crowded waiting room realized we’d been waiting an hour for a test Leo wouldn’t even take, there was a collective gasp. Ah, good old pity. Yea, I did feel a little sorry for myself at that moment, I admit.

And then this morning, there was a big, huge, uncharacteristic refusal to get on the school bus (seriously, most mornings, he practically skips to the bus). Sigh.

I’m hoping everyone just needs a three-day weekend (which we have)...because I know I do. And I know I just need to hold on. I think kids are a lot like what Mark Twain reportedly said about the weather in New England: "If you don't like [it] wait a few minutes."

Breaking news: this parenting thing is hard.

And I’ve said it before and I’m sure I’ll say it again. It’s a good thing he’s so cute.

Five for the Fifth

An inappropriate photo for a Hanukkah themed post. They love their $1 Target Santa hats. Sorry but I couldn't resist.

Why, hello!

Finally, a moment to touch the stone here.

Tonight is the fifth night (I think, right? It's strangely confusing to figure out) of Hanukkah, so here are five bullets:

1. The results of Friday’s ENT visit are that as an early Christmas (we celebrate that one too in our house) present, Leo will be getting a new set of tubes and saying goodbye to his adenoids on December 23. Yup, Merry Christmas Leo! Sorry, guy, but hopefully it will greatly improve his health and reduce the amount of antibiotic treatments. I think we’re on round number three in the last four months…not good.

2. The ENT appointment was not as bad as I had expected although I think my thighs are still sore from clenching them to hold Leo’s legs and prevent him from kicking our dear doctor where the sun don’t shine. And I’m sure Leo with his nasal cavity numbing spray and the tube with the light on the end of it but have a different opinion of how bad the appointment was. Luckily Ellie’s view of the whole procedure was blocked by the doctor so hopefully all that Leo screaming won’t traumatize her for life (don’t ask me what it will do to Leo).

3. The kids are really enjoying lighting the menorah this year. Leo calls it “dora” and the first night Ellie called it “birthday candles.” Last night the kids got their first gift (hey they don’t know that some kids get a gift every night and we plan on drawing out that innocence as long as possible). Upon opening, they swooped around the house appropriately.

4. Leo’s teacher is Jewish and I think she’s definitely pushing Hanukkah more than teachers in the past have. I know that this week they’re learning about Kwanzaa though so maybe they’re just actually giving the holidays equal treatment for a change. I’ve lived on the East coast for about ten years now and it still shocks me a little that I don’t feel like an alien because I celebrate Hanukkah. People actually put menorahs in their windows and decorate for Hanukkah. There is a Hanukkah section at Target for goodness sake. Sorry, Hanukkah rant over.

5. The whole “finish your Brussels sprouts and you’ll get your Hanukkah present” line—it totally works. Last night Leo ate an entire bowl of rice and beans in exchange for his present. This is a boy who could probably happily subsist on scrambled eggs, cheese quesadillas and grapes.

It's just a shame Hanukkah only lasts eight days.

We Live and Also, I am a Space Cadet

I think I have broken a record in not blogging. I have had dozens of posts started in my head but there's been Thanksgiving and a busy weekend and a sick Ellie. I have wanted to write about finding long lost relatives, taking the kids to the train show at the New York Botanical Garden (thumbs up) and getting the Christmas tree and Hanukkah Bush (the earliest we've ever done it, much levity is needed this year), and decorating the house and about the new bakeware I bought at Costco and all my optimistic plans to branch out and try some new recipes for holiday cookies this year.

I am on day #2 of staying home with a sick Ellie. She wasn't herself this weekend, but considering she is cutting all four molars and both eye teeth, we chalked it up to teething and also maybe a little cold. But I had that sinking feeling Monday morning when I dropped her off at daycare (and the nagging guilt) and sure enough, just as I sat down to enjoy my Mexican lunch at my desk, I got The Call. Come pick her up. I took her straight to the doctor where she was diagnosed with an ear infection. We were sent home with a prescription and I knew I would at least be home Tuesday. Here's where I give a shout out to my neighborhood pharmacy and I give thanks once again that as much as I sometimes miss the Thai takeout, I'm grateful we no longer live in Brooklyn. I'm pretty sure the pharmacy there would not bring my baby's prescription to my car, go back in to run my credit card and then come back out for me to sign the receipt (Ellie was asleep in the car). Long live the suburbs.

This morning, the plan was to take Ellie to daycare and see how she eased into her return while I took Leo to his follow-up ENT appointment (following his ear cleaning/tube exam sedation two weeks ago). I told the daycare I'd check in with them after Leo's appointment and before I headed into the city for work. Again, with the sinking feeling, as Ellie did NOT look happy to be at daycare when I left her. I sort of knew I'd be back to get her shortly.

Leo was ecstatic to leave daycare, and as an added bonus, alone, with me! No Ellie! Poor guy had no idea we were headed somewhere not so fun, probably his most hated doctor of all, the dreaded ear doctor. But for a moment he had a skip in his step and kept saying "yay" just because. He said hi to everyone on the walk from the car to the doctor's office.

Too bad his appointment isn't actually until tomorrow.

And seriously, I even double checked it. I honestly don't know what my problem was/is. In my defense, sleep has been sucking at our house lately. Two nights in a row Leo has woken up in the middle of the night and ended up in our bed. Sleeping with Leo is like sleeping with an epileptic octopus. There is no other way to describe it. I think he absolutely must have Restless Leg Syndrome. And did I mention he insists on sleeping On me? Like practically on top of me. And last night getting Ellie down was the worst since her newborn days, when she would fall asleep and then wake up with a start, the second we set her down in the Pack N Play. Erin (aka the Baby Whisperer) was finally able to get Ellie down after an hour of me rocking and nuzzling her).

After the morning's dress rehersal for the ENT appointment, I took Leo to school (he was NOT happy about the end of just Mommy and Me, collapsing into a puddle in the parking lot). And then I was back to the daycare to retrieve the still sick Ellie.

So. It's almost 2pm and I have just now finally succeeded in getting Ellie down for a nap (she normally naps around 10am). I feel bad missing work and am optimistic about tomorrow. I don't know what to do. This is when I wish we had a retired grandmother close by. Or any relative, for that matter. But that is a post for another day.

In the meantime, I am vascillating between taking advantage of this quiet moment to lay on the couch and watch "Shakespeare in Love" or cooking an actual dinner for later (as opposed to the usual thaw and stir fry Trader Joe's entree that is our nightly fare). I did all the laundry yesterday so there's nothing else to do (well, truthfully I could do a lot but choose not to. This morning I noticed the lower kitchen cabinets are caked with some sort of yogurt/oatmeal substance and there is always the kitchen floor to mop but I fear that I have hit a bit of a housekeeping wall). Leo is still at school so I should really, really just savor the temporary quiet.

In good news, Ellie has learned a new word being home and sick: juice. Also, she has become quite an expert at "No." I know I will tire of it soon but for now, her little cute baby girl voice saying "no" is pretty freaking adorable. Also, she is mastering body parts--her absolute favorite is nose. I can only conjecture that since mine is on the large side she finds it to be the most fascinating facial body part.

Please say it isn't so. She's been asleep not even 30 minutes and I hear crying. Oy.

All Good or Do You Hear What I Hear?

Just wanted to pop in and say we are home. Leo did well. The doctor said he has probably not been hearing ANYTHING out of either ear. There was so much wax in both ears it was as if he was wearing ear plugs. Yeah. He left one tube in and took the other one out that had fallen out. It will be interesting to see how he feels/acts now that he can you know, hear.

This was such a minor procedure. Whenever we do things like this my thoughts go out to all the parents who have to watch their children endure such difficult, painful medical procedures. It makes me feel both nervous and grateful.

So we're home, eating scrambled eggs and prepping for a long day of Dora and playing in the basement playroom. Should be fun.

Thanks for all the support.

Out of Touch

I haven’t been writing much lately and I don’t know why. Actually I think I do know why. There just seems to be so much going on that I can’t find a single thread to boil down into a post. I know that shouldn’t stop me. I should just write lots of small entries. I don’t know, I just feel overwhelmed and when I feel that way I don’t write and then it just snowballs into silence.

So, a few updates.

-After a lot of hand wringing and analysis, we’ve decided to go ahead with the sedated ear procedure tomorrow. I sincerely appreciate all the comments in response to my question. I’m beyond nervous about it (think of us tomorrow at 6:45 a.m. EST if you’re up) but the pre-op nurse assured me it would be a quick procedure. It’s just been a while since we’ve had to do anything like this and it’s just, well, it’s always hard. Leo’s been having ear issues since he was tiny and he’s become downright traumatized when it comes to anyone touching his ears. As much as I am not a fan of general anesthesia it would be nice to not do anything to contribute to his terror of All Things Ear. Also, he squirms and carries on so much during ear exams that it’s not out of the question that some actual damage could be done. And, how great would it be if, while under anesthesia the doctor could really get in there and clean and get rid of the fluid and do whatever it takes to help our guy hear better? Come on, language!

-Leo’s parent-teacher conference was last Wednesday. It went well. He is meeting and exceeding all of his goals and he is on track to “graduate” to the next grade (primary) in the fall. He’ll go from being with three and four year olds to a class of kids that ranges from five to nine! That should be a pretty big change for him. We also discussed our goal (mine and Erin’s) of having Leo begin kindergarten at age six in district, most likely with a one-to-one aide. No one looked at me like I had three heads when I brought it up so hopefully it’s an actual possibility for the 2010-2011 school year.

Leo’s teacher described him as being like a “sponge,” that he loves to learn and that she has had to be quite creative with his goals because he is mastering them so quickly. So I can’t complain about that. I even wondered if maybe he might be getting a little bored in this class? But he’s not ready to move up yet (he actually can’t since he’s not five) so we’ll just hope that he can continue to get what he can out of this class and really master the skills he needs to move up. We also talked about Leo’s behavior (he is mostly very well behaved at school and has only recently started exhibiting some problems with transitions, throwing tantrums when he doesn’t want to do something) and we all agreed that it is directly related to his frustration with language. Since that continues to be his greatest delay, I asked for and got an additional private speech session. Who knows if throwing more therapy his way will help, but I’m pretty sure it won’t hurt. And it’s somehow satisfying to get additional services.

-I haven’t talked about potty training for a while because A) I know that it’s pretty boring to anyone but the parent doing the potty training and B) I didn’t want to jinx it. Let’s just say that Leo is consistently performing. He still does not tell us when he has to go but apparently that is a long way off. So for now the onus is on us to get off our butts and take him every two hours like we’re supposed to. Easier said than done! Never thought I’d say it but diapers are almost easier.

-The attacks against Ellie seem to have mellowed slightly. This may be in part because Ellie has developed a high pitched shriek that I liken to something you might see on a National Geographic special, when a smaller animal is at risk of being attacked by a larger one that smaller one might emit this decibel to frighten the attacker away. Mostly, Leo laughs when Ellie does this. But it also stops him directly in his tracks. Of course there was this morning when a sweet pat turned into a hug which then turned into a full on, push Ellie backwards so that she lands on her head. Oh well. Baby steps.

-This might be the most boring post ever, but I feel at least slightly up to date now.

Ear Question

Does anyone out there have any experience with needing to sedate their kid to clean out their ears?

Long story short, Leo had an ear infection a few weeks ago. His ped pronounced one of his tubes had "fallen out" and to follow up with the ENT in a few weeks. We went yesterday and the ENT said that Leo's ear was too filled with wax for him to be able to see anything (I know, ick!) and that the only way to clean it properly would be to sedate him (no I.V. or intubation, just some gas and it would take five minutes). He said if the tube was out, he'd clean out the ears, suck up the fluid and maybe put it another set of tubes.

This just sounds, I don't know...extreme. For waxy ears? Sedation? I spoke to Leo's old ENT today and he said maybe once he's had to sedate an older, uncooperative child who he could not restrain. But that he would never sedate Leo. But, he also said that he would recommend getting those tubes taken out anyway, since he doesn't like them to be in longer than two years (and we're approaching the two-year mark).

Trouble is, this doctor is in Manhattan, not so far geographically but such a headache to get Leo into, on a weekday (traffic, traffic, $ to park and oh did I mention traffic?). Not that I would let a little traffic and $ stand in the way of my kid receiving the best medical care, but I'm just wondering if it's worth the hassle.

And...I have to say that the time Leo was restrained (not sedated) in order to get a tube removed by this previous doctor (which I think is similar in trauma speak for a four-year-old), that probably took a few years off my life (Leo screamed so loud and hard that he split his lip in two places. Yes there was blood, he cried so hard). Which is making me think, maybe sedation isn't so bad?

But I'm open to opinions. I know there are some ENT veteran mommies out there. Please, speak up! What would you do?

Mommy, Turkey socks, et all

It’s a bullet kind of day. Honestly, it’s been a bullet kind of week.

So, a few things:

-Ellie said “Mommy” to me this morning. She’s said “Mama” but that’s Erin’s name. I’m Mommy (dammit!). Leo has still never said it (he actually calls me “dee-dee,” don’t ask). But this morning, when I went into Ellie’s room to get her up for the day, she started chanting “Mommy, Mommy.” Very exciting!

-Poor Ellie has been exhausted the last few evenings, like so tired I think she could go straight to bed after dinner tired. Unfortunately due to work schedules/logistics, that’s not possible. It just really sucks that the only Ellie-time I get during the week is cranky Ellie time, in which she spends most of her time running over to me and throwing herself into my arms/the back of my legs, depending on whether I’m sitting or standing. She just collapses into a puddle of sad, exhausted, whiney toddler tears. Pathetic. I’ve asked them to try to put her down for an afternoon nap at daycare. Hopefully that will help.

-Leo’s almost done with the antibiotics for his ear infection but he is still complaining about the “bee” in his ear. And he has started SCREAMING, as in talking VERY LOUD. I know little boys are loud but this is ridiculous. So I think we’re dealing with some fluid issues. As I said, his ped pronounced one of his tubes “falling out so it’s not doing it’s job.” Great. We’re going to the ENT this coming Wednesday. I moved the appointment up.

-I am using all the strength I can muster to not spend $40 on socks and tights. I have a 20 percent off coupon for a great sock and tight website (I know, who knew?). I am doing what I usually do when I want to shop but not spend money, which is put all the stuff I want in my “basket” and then look at it throughout the day. Usually by the end of the day I don’t care so much. But socks are so fun! They always fit! And they are cheaper than shoes. And don’t even get me started on how much I love knee highs. I mean, really, aren’t these cute (minus the slutty mini-skirt of course)



And I know they're a little corny, but how adorable are these?
You may as well know I am a sucker for holiday themed socks. Yes I wore pumpkin socks leading up to and on Halloween and I'll wear Santa/reindeer/holly socks leading up to and on Christmas. Now i just need the turkeys to complete the trinity of late-year holidays...

-I am not enjoying the time change. It is dark as night when I leave my office. OK it is night. It was fine when I was on maternity leave/cozy at home. But commuting in the dark? Not so fun.