It Just Never Gets Old

Note to self about the above: Never forget how far we've come.

I surprised myself yesterday, at what was, I believe Leo's third "non-freakout" haircut. It's been almost a whole year since he first allowed someone to cut his hair without protest, without huge amounts of bargaining and bribing and brute strength. Longtime readers know, I cried actual tears that day.

And yet...yesterday, as I watched my "big" boy serenley play a Toy Story video game (his first video game--not counting iPhone games--he was in heaven) I still felt a little choked up. A little emotional. I didn't expect to feel that way. I'd dutifully packed the iPad (which is what had originally seemed to relax him, seemed to help him turn that corner of fear and sensory and who knows what else)  and yet, when asked if he wanted to watch a dvd or play a game? Leo chose game. I didn't even have to take the iPad out of my purse.

I briefly wondered if he would be upset when the cut was finished, that he'd have a hard time stopping the game--did we inadvertently add a challenge to what might be a potentially precarious situation? But no. It wasn't a problem. That was the Old Leo. The New Leo simply tossed the cape aside and hopped out of the chair (not before admiring his handsome self in the mirror first). OK, Leo did hug the stylist and tell him he "wanted to marry him" but hey, we pick our battles.

It's such a cliche, but it's true. Seeing how hard certain things are for Leo, knowing how long it takes for him to master certain tasks...it just means that when they do come, when he is successful, well that just never, ever gets old. And I never stop appreciating it. I wish things didn't have to be so hard sometimes, for Leo (and for us as his parents), but what I do feel extremely fortunate for is the fact that all those struggles have led me to appreciate the little, mundane tasks that are now so blissfully uneventful. A haircut. Imagine that.

Yesterday, Leo's biggest challenge? To squelch the giggles. From the tickle of scissors and stray hairs.

All those doctor and dentist appointments and haircut attempts where we exited in tears and knots of stress and grief and frustration: poof. Gone. I know friends who still struggle with this with their children and I know how hard it is and I know how painful it is to see other parents who completely take for granted the simple act of a trip to the dentist or hairstylist.

It's going to be OK, I say. He'll outgrow it. She'll get there. People told me this and I wanted so desperately to believe them. But sometimes? Sometimes the only way out is through.

Trifecta of Sensory Troubles: Overcome

Leo, age 8: First successful dental cleaning.

Longtime readers know that for years, Leo has struggled with three tasks: haircuts, doctor visits (specifically ear, nose and throat--basically anything that involves the use of an instrument to peer into anything) and going to the dentist.

Well, check, check and check!

In case there was any question, Leo is most assuredly, growing up. Tuesday I took him to the dentist (he was loooooong overdue). I'll admit I rescheduled this appointment a few times. Every time I've taken Leo to the dentist in the past, the most the dentist has been able to do is peer into Leo's mouth. He had yet to have an actual cleaning. And going has just felt like a huge waste of time, though of course I knew we had to keep persevering to help get him comfortable.

You may be appalled, thinking, eight years old and still no cleaning? But our dentist (who has a daughter with Down syndrome, himself) assured me that Leo would be fine, that his own daughter didn't allow him to give her a real cleaning until she was eight (apparently eight is the magic number?). Did I mention what a relief it is to have a doctor who "gets" it? The uninitiated might assume the medical community is compassionate to special needs and understanding of kids who might be more a little more afraid or uncomfortable and who in turn, make the appointments take a little longer. For the most part this is the case, but it isn't always.

And our dentist? Oh boy, does he get it. He asked Leo about his stuffed dragon. He tickled him with the toothbrush and the dental floss. He understood every word Leo said (this was extra awesome--to not have to play translator to every five words is liberating for all involved). And he wasn't even offended when he offered Leo water (he was dying to spit in the little rinse bowl next to the dental chair) and Leo asked instead, for orange juice.

Leo was definitely hesitant. But he never got hysterical and he was reasonable. I would say that's one of the biggest changes I've seen with him in the last year or so: he listens to reason. He can still be impulsive but you can get to his level and talk to him and say "This is what we're doing and this is why" and he might not love it or necessarily want to do it but he eventually says "OK."

I never quite figured out why Leo was so terrified of the haircut, ENT, dental trifecta. I just know that every time we left a hairdresser (usually with both of us in tears) or a doctor's appointment without a proper exam (remember how we had to have Leo sedated to just see if his tubes were intact?), it was like a punch in the gut. You're different. This is hard. Not to mention, all the undue stress it put on Leo, the poor guy.

So I'm relieved to say that I think we are finally closing the door on these struggles. Sensory? I guess. It doesn't really matter. All I know is that Leo finally has consistently, closely cropped hair, twenty-two teeth and I don't break into hives when I have to take him to the ENT (or even the regular old pediatrician).

As you can see, Leo is ready for Halloween, already. His dentist will be happy to know he doesn't even like candy.

I know! What's wrong with him?

Hair Today: Sweet Victories

Before...

Going...

Still going...

Pause to admire handsomeness...

And, gone!

Long time readers of this blog realize the enormity of these images.

Leo got a haircut. And he didn't freak out. He didn't cry. We didn't have to hold him down. I don't have bruised shins. I didn't cry (well, I actually did, but they were tears of joy and pride). I could go on and on.

Still a little confident on the heels of a recent visit to the pediatrician wherein Leo allowed the doctor to examine his ears (the other historical source of hysteria), we decided to revisit the notion of a real haircut. Obviously we've trimmed it here and there as he'd allow (usually in front of a piece of cake with him holding an iPhone while "America's Funniest Home Videos" played in the background, anything to quell Leo's haircutting demons). I used to joke that perhaps Leo was some kind of medical phenomenon, that he had nerve endings at the tip of his hair, he would get that upset and there was just no talking reason to him.

But, try, try again, fail, try again, right? Give kids/babies the chance to surprise you and nothing is permanent (two of my favorite pieces of parenting advice).

All of that, and Leo's hair was starting to look downright silly.

I should also credit Steve Jobs in my little Thank You speech. Getting to use the iPad (Super Stickman Golf to be exact) was the deciding factor in my opinion, that finally allowed Leo to relax enough and be distracted, something no amount of cake or DVDs could ever offer.

It's like almost everything with Leo. Everything has taken longer, been a long time coming (sitting up, crawling, walking, talking). But it all happened. It's all happening. He just does it in his own time. And certain things just don't come easy to him.

And that's what makes these little seemingly simple victories (a haircut, yes, a haircut made me cry happy tears today) that much sweeter.

The Super and the Not So Super

1. Leo now appears to be a nearly full-time Superhero. He pretty much refuses to wear anything but Superhero tops. Superman is the number one choice, Batman and Spider-Man will suffice. If I present him with something else (a dinosaur tshirt yesterday morning), his response is a polite “No thank you.” Today he wore not one but three Superhero shirts. Two Supermans followed by Batman. Clearly he got dressed on his own. Hey, he was dressed and matching. That was enough for me.

2. I don’t know what to do about Leo’s hair. See exhibit A, above. This is an old photo (from Halloween, obviously) but it's pretty close to what Leo's hair is looking like these days. I know it doesn't look that bad there but seriously, give it a week. I don't know if it's all those scrambled eggs or what but his hair sprouts in the oddest places, and fast. I swear he goes to bed one night and it's a fine length and it literally grows overnight to unreasonable, overgrown, just odd proportions (and look! He's conveniently wearing a Superman outfit in this photo!).

It’s getting too long again. We seem to be able to go about three months before it starts to look...shaggy. But as we all know, a trip to the barber for Leo means a full on meltdown. I’m in no shape to handle that right now (there is kicking and wailing and the need for serious strength to hold down my littler, um, Superhero). The last time I took him for a haircut (early November) I had to throw away his top and mine (they were both fleece) as they were SO saturated with hair. I washed them twice and put them through the dryer to no avail. Sticky, sticky hair.

And then there is the torture/trauma factor. Is it wrong to put your kid through that? Granted the haircut (which is a buzz cut because that’s all that can be safely done, there will be no scissors) takes all of ten minutes. But trust me, when someone is that unhappy, it’s a l-o-n-g ten minutes. He recovers almost instantaneously and the trauma is always followed by a hug to the stylist (and the collective awwws of the entire hair salon). But still.

And there’s this: I’m not a fan of the buzz cut. Leo has gorgeous, thick hair (not that I’m biased). A buzz cut seems like such a waste of his good looks. And, um, locks (sorry, couldn’t resist).

A Haircut and a Stab to the Heart

Another haircut for Leo, another few years shaved off my life.

I thought we’d get at least another month out of Leo’s last haircut (right before school started) but alas it was not to be. The telltale side burns were sprouting, as well as the random stray neck hairs, to say nothing of the very early yet still troubling signs of a mullet. His hair grows so dang fast. Maybe it’s all the scrambled eggs?

In any case, I felt pretty heel-like when I enticed him to a Sunday morning trip to his beloved bookstore, only to plop him right in front of the dreaded Kid Haircut Place. Don’t worry, we went to the bookstore immediately after the haircut and that had been the plan all along. The haircut preceeding the bookstore was just a small detail that was, shall we say, left out of the equation.

I can safely say 11 a.m. to 11:10 a.m. yesterday was one of the longest ten minutes stretches of time I’ve experience for a while. Not to mention, exhausting. That little boy is strong. And when he doesn’t want to do something? Determined. He kicked and stomped and tried his best to squeeze his way out of the little haircut chair. He even figured out how to unhook the seatbelt.

I feel for Leo. I really, really do. I don’t know what it is about a haircut that turns Leo into something from The Discovery Channel’s Feral Animal Series. I got lots of sympathetic looks from parents yesterday—one mom whispered to me “My son was like that too.” I nodded and went back to my poor little wild animal. I know Leo will outgrow this someday, but in the meantime, I still feel like the meanest mom on the planet every three months.

I did everything right. I called ahead and got the “nice” guy hairdresser, Joe, who is patient, kind and soft spoken. He knows us and has cut Leo’s hair before (word is he has experience with the “tough” ones). I made the first appointment of the day so the salon wasn’t too crowded. I had Dora booted up on the DVD player before Leo was even in the chair.

In the end, none of that mattered. There was thrashing and tears and both Leo and I ended up with a good inch of dark blonde hair on our fleece jackets (you don’t think Leo allowed Joe to put on the cape, do you?). And in the end, after it was all done and the neck was shaved and the sideburns clipped and the bangs were gone, I wiped Leo’s tears, helped him down from the chair and Leo…hugged Joe.

Of course he did.

Leo, just hours before the dreaded haircut, pictured with his follicle-encouraging scrambled eggs (note the sideburns. It was time.).

It Takes a Village

This morning was Leo’s spring parent-teacher conference. I last met with Leo’s teacher in the fall. I speak with her on the phone or via email or Leo’s communication book fairly regularly, so I didn’t learn much that I didn’t already know.

Even though it made the morning a bit extra hectic (and I had to bring Ellie with me) I like to get to Leo’s school as often as I can and it’s fun to visit Leo’s classroom. This morning, for example, I found out they are growing potatoes! Leo pointed to the tiny green sprouts poking through the dirt in the big purple Rubbermaid container and signed “baby.” Well they were baby potatoes, he was right.

Perhaps my favorite detail about this morning was seeing pictures from the Dr. Seuss Birthday celebration a few weeks ago. There was Leo, in a circle with a group of (all typical girls). He had his legs crossed, was leaning back in his chair and reading aloud from The Cat in the Hat and the girls were enthralled, clearly under Leo’s spell.

You certainly can’t complain about a meeting with a teacher that begins, “Well everyone loves Leo.”

I’m not surprised to learn that Leo is the “mayor” of his school. He greets everyone in the hall and everyone knows him. He is collectively adored.

I pressed her for the negative. It couldn’t be a total love-fest. Was there anything he needed to work on? Anything we should be doing with him at home?

He still has a hard time transitioning sometimes, but he is easily “redirected” when reminded of an upcoming fun activity. He can be a little overly “chatty,” both with his neighbors and teachers. He is constantly asking questions. Why? What’s that? (Obviously not much of a “problem” in my book for the speech delayed kid to be talking too much but I can imagine it can be annoying as a teacher).

Mrs. L. does think Leo could improve his handwriting, which I was surprised to hear, since I think it’s pretty darn impressive. But clearly I’m a little biased.

The discussion turned to the haircut/sensory concerns. Mrs. L. wanted to know what exactly was Leo’s “issue” with getting his hair cut, so that she and the Occupational therapist could figure out some techniques to help him overcome it. I explained in highly technical terms, that he basically flips. Out. I shared with her the fact that Leo’s been seeing an ENT since he was about six months old. Maybe he just doesn’t like people going at his head with sharp objects?

She agreed they would continue to work on it and even joked she’d been tempted to make a few snips here and there, when they were working with the scissors, but she was worried Leo would get the wrong idea and think it was acceptable to use scissors on other people’s hair.

And then I said in all seriousness, if you can cut Leo’s hair, I give you my blessing. For real. I was pretty much convinced she would have better luck than we do at home. I think we can all agree that most (all?) children are completey different people at school vs. home, so why not? I can see someone reading this and thinking, what, you can't even cut your own kid's hair? But it's not that simple. It reminds me of how Leo was potty trained at school for ages while he still continued to have accidents at home, or how he has always been so good about holding the hands of teachers or aides but up until very recently, would try to bolt when I walked with him.

They are just different creatures, when they're away from us. I firmly believe this.

Back to today. I arrived at work this morning (about an hour after meeting with Leo’s teacher) to a phone message from Ms. L.

“Just wanted to let you know we’ve made some progress in trimming Leo’s hair. It’s not finished yet but it’s a big improvement! I’ll keep you posted.”

And then an email, a few hours later:

Hi Maya,
As per my phone message to your work number, we are still working on Leo's hair - it's definitely a work in progress and will take days to complete. The Health teacher, came in today and told us that she used to be a hairdresser. She has all her equipment at home and will be happy to cut his hair (fix what I've done) once we feel he is ready. We're aiming for the Wednesday after vacation. She would like to know how you would like it cut. If you could find a picture of a haircut you like and could send it in that would be great.
Mrs. L.

And shortly after that email, another note arrived, with these attached:



It’s clear that they are using this as a “teachable moment” which I think is sweet. And smart.

Mrs. L. said that Leo "fussed a bit" [I had written her back inquiring how he reacted to the haircut]. She went on to say: "I did a little at a time. We used a doll and "cut" the dolls hair ( it didn't even have any hair) and then Leo's hair. I'll try to do a little every day to even it out. Tomorrow we talked about doing the front (just so it's not hanging in his eyes)."
Mrs. L.

My heart is swelling. It takes a village, indeed.

Friday Listiness

1. The forecast for today is 70 degrees. SEVENTY. Yes, I’m shouting. Less than a month ago we had a blizzard. I love the three days of spring (and I know, I know this isn't spring yet but just a tease) we get in New York City. Trust me, we go from cherry blossoms to jungle humidity in about sixty hours here and I am relishing every minute of this little spring preview.

2. People are walking around midtown Manhattan in flip flops and short sleeved shirts. We are desperate (clearly) for warmth. Tomorrow is supposed to be more of the same. Our big plans include a trip to Trader Joe’s for homemade salsa ingredients and, well, coming home to make homemade salsa. And play outside. Compensate for last weekend's very busy weekend which included heading into Manhattan not once, but twice, and on the same day of the worst storm in our area's history. Weeee!

3. OK, fine. I guess I’ll throw in a little vacuuming, laundry and yard work too, just because the house/yard is crying out for it.

4. All this warm(ish) weather has me craving these for Leo:

And for Ellie:


I’m probably jumping the gun just a tad regarding sandal planning (we could certainly get more snow knowing the way things go around here) but hey, a girl has to dream, have goals and make plans.

5. For those who may not know, Leo’s favorite color is yellow. If given a color choice, ever, it’s always yellow. A yellow balloon at Trader Joe’s, a yellow cupcake from Magnolia. He meets yellow items with such enthusiasm that I’m not sure what he’s going to do when he gets yellow shoes. But I’m going to risk it.

I admit, I went a little back and forth on the yellow ones. Are they a little too something? Maybe. I don’t know. Honestly though, isn’t life too short not to wear yellow shoes, if given the chance?

6. Ellie has become our sporadic translator. For the most part, I can understand Leo pretty well and a lot of his language is contextual, that is I get what he’s saying based on what we’ve been talking about already. But sometimes, I am just stumped. What did he say? That’s when Ellie steps in and matter-of-factly announces “he said rock” or “he said owl.” I love that they know each other this well.

7. I finally got my act together and contacted Leo’s occupational therapist about his “sensory issues” surrounding haircuts (or should I say his hysterical, scary, traumatic (for all of us) refusal to even entertain the possibility of a haircut). I tried to make a little joke of it in my note to the OT, saying something like “in case you hadn’t noticed, Leo will not tolerate a haircut" (my little ragamuffin). Parent/Teacher conferences are next week and she’s agreed to meet with me then. In the meantime she said she’s going to start doing some exercises with him that should help. I’m interested to know what those entail.

If all else fails, maybe the OT will cut Leo’s hair? Cause that's totally in her job description, right? (It's a shame the bus driver obviously failed to take the hint that he too could cut Leo's hair).

8. Lastly, an answer to my thank you note to Leo’s speech therapist for her note about Leo's reading of The Runaway Bunny (yes I am one of those parents who thanks teachers and therapists for every little thing they do, including taking the time to write me a note with a sweet detail about my child’s day. What can I say but that I come from a family of teachers and I know how hard they work/how overworked they are).

Her response:

"It is always my pleasure to work with Leo. He is a very, very hard worker. Each day continues to be richer than the last. Incorporating literacy into the sessions is an important part of speech therapy for my students. Leo responds very positively to books. Today he read "Brown Bear" along with me and did very well sounding out the words. Perhaps he has already read it at home, since he did such a great job. We worked on prediciton as well, and he was right on. Yes, Leo has become increasingly engaged and verbal recently and I believe this is the beginning of some very exciting times!"

I couldn't agree more.

Unplanned Hiatus, A Return Thanks to Chemistry and Also: the “S” Word. Again.

What have we been up to? I’m so glad you asked.

You may have heard that it snowed (how many times am I going to say that this winter?) While nothing compared to the inundation that the DC-area has seen, last week was pretty impressive.

There have been snow men.

And of course, snow elephants.

And the Loch Ness Snow Monster made his home on our snow covered patio furniture.

There were a lot of Hayrides.

I came down with a wacky, miserable illness that I feared was going to land me on “Mystery Diagnosis” or “House.” Thankfully some good old pharmaceuticals stepped in and seem to be doing their job.

Leo continues his love for "Curious George: The Movie." I’d like to take this opportunity to publicly thank the compassionate librarian who took pity on me and let me re-check out the Curious George DVD (apparently that’s strictly forbidden). I had to pry that DVD out of Leo’s little hand when I went to renew it (and then discovered you’re not supposed to renew DVDs).

Leo discovered Peter Pan (the Disney version). Pirates. That’s all he needs.

I’ve started going to the library every Saturday and bringing home a heaping grocery bag of picture books for the kids. I know, I’m a little late to this. I think I got turned off on the library because I made the mistake of taking the children there to pick out books and they just aren’t ready for that yet—too overwhelming. Or maybe I need to up my medication to be able to handle taking them there. Kidding.

Ellie’s attention span for books has exploded in the last couple of weeks.

She wants to read the same book again and again and again. On repeat right now? The Max and Ruby books. They are adorable, I’ll admit. A way more palatable book-TV tie-in then that Dora girl.

What else? Let’s see.

Ellie got a haircut.

We plan on keeping it short for as long as she’ll tolerate it. I always thought long hair for a little girl would be a given, but Ellie’s not crazy about barrettes or pigtails, so for now, bob it is. She’s a little bit Coco Chanel, a little bit Ramona Quimby. It really suits her personality too.

Leo...

did not get a haircut.

To be fair, we have tried everything. Promises of ice cream cones while cutting hair, ice cream cones while watching "Dora" and getting a haircut, trips to the toy store after hair cutting. Nothing. I joke about it, but it really is troubling. I want him to look well-kept. Also, I hate that it is so upsetting and distressing to him to even consider a haircut. I cannot overemphasize how terrified he gets. I'm not sure how long we can go on my secret late night haircuts. I emailed Leo's teacher today to see if we can talk about some strategies. I guess it's sensory. Maybe his O.T. can help? Is there behavioral therapy for hair cuts?

Oy. Back to lighter topics.

The snow doesn't close our playground.


Ellie and I took a walk on Sunday afternoon.

She walked about two blocks before she announced “Uppy.” We went home to get the stroller, but the walking was fun while it lasted. When she’s not exhausted she can be a great little listener. It just never ceases to amaze me how she attends and follows me and stays close to me.

Ellie’s school (and Leo’s aftercare program) moved to a new location, about four minutes down the road. It’s a much nicer location and they’ll have a huge playground and garden once it warms up, but logistically, I’m not thrilled. It means I pick them up ten minutes later than I used to, and they’ve tightened the rules about lateness, apparently they’re going to start charging when they didn’t used to. I’m at the mercy of my bus (the 5:20) and the New Jersey Turnpike. Not a great combination.

I was worried when I learned the new bus Leo would be taking to the aftercare program would have him riding for almost an hour after school (OK, confession, I had a near freak-out). But then Erin calmed me down as she always does and made me look at it from another angle. We talked about whether it was so terrible for Leo to have a little time to decompress? He’s go-go-go all day at school. Hell, maybe he’ll even nap on the bus (the horrors!). A moving vehicle is the only way I can ever get him to sleep during the day.

So, yes. The one hour bus ride. At first it was feared, but now I think it's almost (almost) serendipitous. It's all about perspective.

I wonder, if he falls asleep on the bus, could they cut his hair?

Haircut SOS and Put Down That Book Mommy

I’m sitting here feeling very smug in my new $7 black corduroys. That’s right, seven dollars and they were not purchased at a thrift store. OK, so they were purchased at at a very un-PC store, a store that rhymes with Doll-Art. Ellie helped me pick them out and was excited to proclaim, as I took off one pair of pants to try on another, “Mommy, you don’t have pants on! Your legs are naked!” And bless her heart, she told me all the pants were “too big” even when they decidedly were not. Ahem.

It was a good weekend. Ellie has taken to announcing every night when I pick her and her brother up “No school tomorrow!” so it’s nice when on Friday night I can say “That’s right Ellie! No school tomorrow.”

Ellie took marathon naps both days. It was warm enough to play outside both days. I wonder if my kids are the only ones on the eastern seaboard who ask to eat snack outside. They love to sit at the little table on our deck, fully adorned in snow suits and hats and gloves, and eat applesauce. But this weekend, it must have been 45 degrees with the sun out. I felt like busting out the tank tops and the margaritas. The snow is thinner every day and grass is finally visible after weeks of tundra. We're getting there.

We had grand plans for haircuts for both of the kids (Ellie, to be taken to the mall where she can sit in a pink car with a sucker and Leo, to be held down in front of a never-before-seen Dora episode, with me dangling an ice cream cone). I joked with Erin that I was thinking about trying to find a straight jacket on eBay that might prove useful for a Leo haircut attempt. I was actually only half kidding.

But really, it’s not so funny, because Leo’s hair is reaching new levels of never before seen ridiculousness. I tried to cut the back (which has, as I’ve mentioned, been shooting towards mulletness with frightening speed) while he was sleeping. But he’s so squirmy and so the result was, well…

So we called Leo “Carol” all weekend. And he didn’t seem to mind.

In addition to having bad hair, Leo seemed a little under the weather all weekend, fighting a cold. I thought we'd turned a corner, his cheeks hadn't taken on that scarlet red, chafed appearance they have every other winter of his short life, but finally, the raw redness seems to have struck. I'm buying stock in Aquaphor and chasing him around the house with tubes of it (which he loves, I assure you).

Leo was equal parts cuddly and grouchy on Sunday. There were a lot of outbursts followed by “sorry” and hugs and attempts to crawl into laps. I came home with a stack of promising books at the library and made the foolish attempt to read while he watched "Curious George: The Movie" (another library find). Leo has sonar when it comes to my reading. I can load the dishwasher, mop the kitchen floors, vacuum the entire house and cook a four-course meal while he watches television, but if I make the mistake of trying to read a book of my own interest (i.e. not a picture book) in Leo’s presence? No chance.

In other Leo news, Erin found Leo in his room fully dressed this morning.

While the rest of the house slept, he put this little number together, all by himself! It even matches. I had to quell the OCD mom tendency to change that shirt (it has a few little stains around the neck and it’s technically reserved as a “pajama only” shirt). But Leo was so proud (as we all were) and so I didn’t have the heart to make him put on something else. The shirt truly is him. It's yellow(ish) (his favorite color) and, well, "Bear Hug." I can't think of a term that sums up Leo more than that. He can get violent when I come at him with that Aquaphor, but ultimately, he's a little hugger.

Bedtime Meltdowns and Manis

In a fit of domesticity, I made a variation of this last night. Of course, I was the only one who really ate it. Leo picked at his (squinting suspiciously at the stray tomato skin—he should be a private investigator specializing in vegetable detection). After eating the leftover string cheese, apple sauce cup and Pirate Booty from her lunch box, Ellie wasn’t too interested in my creation either. Shocking.

For some reason, after working all day and being away from the kids for eight hours, five days a week, a home cooked meal feels like the least I can do. But then they won’t even touch it. And then I remember why scrambled eggs (or something equally fast to make and easy to clean-up) really does make more sense, most nights.

***
Last evening was a strange one. For Ellie, the word exhaustion doesn’t cover it. I continue to look at her sideways, daily, still paranoid that she’s doomed to get the strep that three-quarters of the house had/has. It would certainly help if I remembered to take my antibiotics too, ahem. But the appetite is still there (you can’t really gauge sickness with Ellie by mood since she’s often what I would describe as, um, opinionated) so that’s a good sign. As I said, she devoured her lunch box remains (she now proudly zips and unzips that little bag like it’s her job, and her favorite phrase to go along with that activity is “I want something else.”) Hmm…something else? I know the feeling.

When we finally did finish eating and cleaning up the abbreviated “Hayride” (it’s now become an after dinner activity too), Ellie dissolved upstairs. There was refusal to put on the nighttime Pull-Up, there was hysteria at the thought of pajamas. There was plenty of warning from me, there were vows of “no books, you’re going straight in your crib” if she didn’t cooperate.

She didn’t.

And so, fearing what I might do if I was forced to continue trying to shimmy little pink pajama bottoms onto exceptionally uncooperative little legs, I did what I promised to do all along. It was into the crib for her, without pants even.

I know. Mean.

What was odd was there was no crying. Not even a peep. Erin went into her room to attempt to wrangle Pull-Ups and clothes. Somewhere along the way she must have lost her will to fight, because she let Erin dress her without argument. She then plunked back down and was out for the night.

Meanwhile Leo was feeling cuddly and needy (no surprise). I lay next to him on his little firm twin bed with the fish sheets and stared up at the ceiling, listening to his breathing, heavy but noticeably (so far) less congested-sounding than it was pre-adenoid surgery. That’s when he shot upright and presented me with two stubby fingered hands. For some reason, I knew exactly what he meant: he wanted me to cut his fingernails.

The moment reminded me of a lesson my mom taught me, handed down to her by the great and wise Peg Bracken: If you have the inclination to do something (in Bracken’s case it was housework-feel like dusting but you’re on your way to make a phone call or coffee? Dust! You never know when the burst of dusting energy might return!).

Normally, cutting Leo’s nails is just one notch easier than giving him a haircut. There is holding down, there is struggle and pleading and cajoling. But not last night. He observed me wordlessly as I carefully trimmed each little half-moon down. Note to self: he’s outgrown the infant nail clippers (oops).

This might sound silly, but it felt like a Moment. A milestone of some sort. Leo noticed something about himself that needed attending to. He asked for help. He tolerated having something "done" to him.

Now if we could just get him to notice that hair of his, part surfer dude, part Adam Rich from "Eight is Enough" and fast on its way to mullet city.

Ten minutes later, Leo was asleep, buried under comforter and fleece throw, clutching his water bottle and stuffed dog, the tired boy with the well-groomed nails.

The Haircut that Launched the Pity Party

We finally broke down and gave Leo a haircut this weekend.

Here's a "before" shot.
Don’t let the smile fool you. Just a few hours after this picture was taken Leo was transformed into a terrified, hysterical, maniacal little person, convinced he is Under Attack.

I’ve mentioned before that Leo has a thing about getting his haircut. The last time he had an official haircut, like, by a professional, he kicked the hairdresser in the face and ended up leaving with a very unfortunate crewcut. I’m pretty sure Leo’s picture is up at that salon with the words “Do Not Service” close by.

Really, the word “ballistic” just barely begins to describe Leo’s reaction to a haircut. Both Erin and I have to hold him down while one of us does the cutting or buzzing (we thought using clippers might help but apparently they are just as terrifying as scissors). This task falls to Erin because she’s a way better hair cutter than I am.

The scene on Saturday night was bad. Really, really bad. I’m talking, gasping for air and foaming at the mouth and screaming-so-hard-he-had-no-voice-left bad. And I’m sure you’re thinking well for god’s sake just let the poor boy have long hair! But there’s a whole mess of issues that go along with that, namely I feel like our kids have enough stacked against them. They need to be well-groomed. And just to be clear, I think longish hair on boys is fine, it's just difficult to keep Leo's longish hair in good shape.

Back to that scene on Saturday night. And what must have poor Ellie thought? She stood in the doorway cringing in silence. I hope she wasn’t taking notes on how to behave for her next styling session.

Who knows why haircuts affect Leo so. Is it sensory (isn't everything sensory these days?) Is it all those years of being poked and prodded by various insensitive ENTs? And what must Leo think of us? His parents who are coming towards him with sharp metal objects?

I’ll be honest about the haircutting fiasco/trauma. It depressed me. I know there are kids without Down syndrome out there who don’t like getting their haircut but I doubt there are many who act the way Leo does at age five. Most days, I really do go along on my merry way, fine with things. And in many instances, Leo truly is the “easier” one of our two kids. And I also know that if pitching a full-on fit for a haircut is the worst thing you can say about a little boy than it's not all that bad.

But sometimes, the littlest things (a haircut? Really?) are just so shockingly hard. And then I look at these pictures of Leo playing in the leaves on Sunday.




As his grandpa has said before, Leo really enjoys his life.

The end result (I know, I know, but it's the best I could get) it's a cute little "Ceaser" cut--think George Clooney).

And I try to remember that the good far, far outweighs all that bad, shockingly hard stuff.

The Boy of Summer

Without further ado, I give you, the result of the first ever (non baby) haircut that did not result in violence or tears (shed by us or Leo and we try not to remember the bloody nose given to the stylist at the mall kid haircutting place but it’s hard). If I didn’t know better I would say that Leo has nerves in his hair, that’s how freaked out he usually gets when you come near him with a pair of scissors.


I realize it’s not that noticeable, but it was getting mighty shaggy. In fact, Leo’s new nickname had become Wolverine. Or Helmet Head (because his hair is so incredibly thick it looked like a freaking helmet I’m not kidding).

I’m quite pleased. And it was totally DIY because Erin is among many of her talents, also a hairstylist extraordinaire.

It is a huge relief, because who could forget the great crewcut of ’09:

Yea, us either (OK, it wasn’t that bad in this picture but trust me when I tell you the back had no shape and frankly this just isn’t Leo’s style). And I'm sorry, I know I'm his mommy but Leo has GORGEOUS hair and there needs to be more of it than a crew cut allows.

Erin talked him through it and gave him tons of positive reinforcement, let him hold the scissors a few times. Honestly I think what helped is she did it close to a mirror and so Leo was able to see himself throughout the process. I swear that boy is vain vain vain. It is not uncommon to find him admiring himself in the reflection of the toaster or garbage can.

Anyway, with the new ‘do it was a lovely weekend to enjoy one of the best things about summer.

This was such a nice moment. Ellie was napping and Leo and I just sat out on the deck and enjoyed a fruit pop.

And we also talked. He told me all about the animals he’d seen at the zoo the day before. He’s becoming quite the conversationalist.

Talking 'bout penguins.

I Know Where I'm Not Wanted and Also: Admitted Portrait Sucker

Ellie has a new caregiver at daycare-her beloved Ms. M. went back to work at the bank. I’ve been trying to get to know the new woman in Ellie’s room, nothing big, I've just been a little extra chatty with her in the morning. We were deep into a nice little conversation about what a good eater Ellie is (her words, not mine—I would agree she is game to try lots of things but at home she has a very short attention span with the kitchen table, she is the queen of up, down up, down and rarely finishes a meal).

But you know how kids are. There’s your kid and there’s the school version. Ellie’s school version sits calmly and quietly in her high chair while at home she kneels at the kitchen table and picks at her food, turns around and says "Hi Walter!" (our new goldfish) about a dozen times and drops her bottle about seventeen times.

So there was talk of her “good eating,” and how well she does with her utensils (the best in the class, according to Ms. M.)

And then, a little voice:

“Bye Mommy.”

And then a sheepish little grin.

I think someone was trying to tell me something. Yea yea Mommy, don’t you have to go to work or something? Don’t you know this is my time?

Can you beat that?

In other news, the daycare had school pictures this week. Leo’s preschool was on spring break so he's been at daycare full-time and was able to be photographed with Ellie for the “sibling portraits.” I’m curious to see how these turn out since Leo’s pictures from preschool were taken at the height of Leo’s "Bubba" (aka the accidentally very shaved head) look.

I know, I know, these school “portraits” rarely turn out well but I am a sucker for them—if they’re bad they are campy and if they’re good, well so be it. Also, my mom never wanted to get them and I think I am making up for it now-my kids will have every school year formally documented, dammit!

Anyway, Leo is now sporting a bit of a hipster ‘do (with product, of course) and I am loving it. I'm his mommy, so I can say this unapologetically: Leo has always had gorgeous hair. (Seriously when he was a baby and it was more strawberry blonde I had women stop me on the street and jokingly ask what number dye he uses so they can replicate it at the beauty parlor)

So, all reports are that Leo and Ellie were the best behaved pair during the photo sessions, the best listeners (especially Leo!) and that Leo was hugging and kissing on Ellie the whole time, melting hearts across the tri-state area. I so love it when the words “Leo” and “best behaved” appear in the same sentence.

Lastly, and completely unrelated to any of this, Leo starts Taekwondo next week. I can't wait.

By Request

I had a request for photographic evidence of the bad haircuts from this weekend.

Once again, excuse Leo's dirty face. Why do I always take pictures after dinner?



Luckily for Leo, it's pretty tough (OK, I'll say, it's impossible!) to make Leo NOT cute. And I'm not just saying that--I wrote a note to Leo's teacher about the haircut (I felt the need to say something lest she think we did that to him on purpose). She's the one who reminded me of the impossibility of not being cute.

Unfortunately, I can't say the same thing for the other person in this picture. And I'm totally not fishing here, guys. I'm just stating how I feel. It's a b-o-r-i-n-g haircut. I'm not sure what I was hoping for. A green streak? Some kind of hair statement? Oh well. I said it about Leo and I'll say it about me: It's just hair.

The Weekend of Violent and Just Plain Bad Haircuts

Why didn’t I leave well enough alone? Leo’s hair was not that long. Just a little shaggy. Certainly not long enough to warrant bloodshed.

I)
Erin called me from the car to inform me she was never doing it again. “It,” being taking Leo to the kid haircutting place at the mall. I can’t say that I blame her. It’s always been bad but this time, well this time apparently was the Worst Ever. I’m not sure what happens to Leo when placed in the hairdresser’s chair. This is even one of those “fun” places, where you get to sit in a car or a boat or a spaceship and watch the beloved Dora and suck on a lollypop as so called “distractions.” No matter to Leo, who undergoes some kind of primal flight or fight instinct when faced with scissors and a clipper and that plastic cape. And now, all 40 pounds of him is kicking and thrashing and well, kicking a poor woman in the nose, apparently, hard enough to draw a significant amount of blood, enough to require her to exit and another hairdresser to finish the job.

And it would be one thing if it was a good haircut. But it’s not. And of course I don’t blame anyone for that, how could it be good, considering what happened? We should consider ourselves lucky that it’s slightly even. It’s just, well, s-h-o-r-t. Let’s just say Leo could easily join the Marines and fit right in with the look he’s sporting today. Except he's not as stylish as a Marine. I know that it’s hair and it will grow. And I’m trying to cheer myself with the knowledge that with it being so short, he won't need another cut for a very long time.

II)
My own haircut experience was far less dramatic. I haven’t had mine cut by someone other than myself for at least a year. Every weekend I mean to and every weekend gets filled with all the other necessary “to-dos.” This weekend though, I couldn’t take it any more. Part of the problem is I’ve yet to find a place I really like. I went to one shop but they all spoke Spanish the whole time and I know it’s very Seinfeld of me but I felt paranoid, like they were talking about me or laughing at me. I do know a bit of Spanish but not enough to really know what they are saying, but sort of enough to be confused, if that makes sense. So I went back to a place just down the street that I swear was used as the inspiration for Steel Magnolia’s. I should have known better when I walked in and everyone had gray or white hair and they were getting it set in rollers or teased up with hairspray. I was the youngest person in there by thirty years, easy.

I walked out with a “mom bob.” Shorter than I’d like it but at least I didn’t give the woman who cut it a bloody nose in retaliation.

In other weekend news:

-It is still really cold here. I know I promised I wouldn’t harp on this but it’s just pretty remarkable. We are having a real winter. The snow from last week melted some but today it’s just bitter again and there is more snow on the way. I actually think my iPod froze this morning, and no I don't mean as in, had a computer glitch. I mean I think it was too cold for it too work. Really.
-Ellie is continuing to use the potty. She is so pleased with herself. She sits on it, gets a very thoughtful and serious look on her face and then jumps up, hands in the air a la Mary Lou Retton vault dismount, upon completion. Two nights in a row she used the little baby potty in the living room and for the first time ever, Leo used that one too (he always refused that one). Maybe Ellie will successfully potty train Leo, yet. I wonder when I should make the leap from diapers to training pants for Ellie.
-In Leo sleep news, Leo rules. Each night has been better and quieter. But Saturday night was just plain funny. After about an hour of silence from his room, I went to turn off his light (he tends to fall asleep with the light on). There was Leo, naked as the day he was born, sleeping in his familiar still-baby pose, tush in the air, legs tucked tightly underneath him. Nearby on the floor was a crumpled Pull-Up and pajama top and bottom. I was able to dress him without waking him, he actually snored through the redressing process. Oh how I wish I could sleep that soundly. He's still waking up too early for my taste but he's staying in his own bed during the night (so far at least) and for that I am happy. Just don't ask me what compelled the boy to try and sleep nudey on Saturday night.

Doh'

I pulled out the Play-Doh last weekend. Ellie's first time. I wasn't sure she'd know not to eat it.


She only ate a little.


I think she wondered what the heck it was.


Leo, meanwhile, very much enjoyed himself. He was concentrating so hard on his little penguin that he looks a little like Frankenstein here. And I'm still not sure about his haircut. He looks a little Nazi-Youth to me. I ask, once again, where did these blonde children come from? And also, I just found out that people with Down syndrome never have curly hair? This is so strange to me. So, so strange. I realize this has nothing to do with Play Doh.

Haircut

It was time. We knew it was. But for all that is good in this world, will someone please tell me who stole my baby and replaced him with this Little Boy?

Side note: See the stray hairs? We did the best we could. I'll have to trim those when he's asleep or something. Leo screamed like we were stabbing him in the head during the haircut. We took him to one of those cheesy kid mall places. Even sitting on Erin's lap and watching an Elmo video did nothing to appease/distract. The cookies n' cream ice cream afterwards might have helped. A little.