Speech. Again. And Some Needed Comic Relief.

I met with two of Leo’s teachers and his school speech therapist yesterday for his parent teacher conference

The good news is, academics-wise, Leo is doing well. His handwriting is progressing. He’s an active, eager participant in class discussions as he’s always been. As I mentioned a few months ago, Leo now attends the learning disabled class for language arts and that is apparently going (mostly) swimmingly (he's not as cooperative or enthusiastic about math, which he also goes to this class for but hey, he comes by that honestly--I was a horror in math throughout all my school years). The class is comprised of children with various, minor “learning problems,” some are not quite reading at grade level, some have dyslexia. If you saw these kids in the hallway, you wouldn’t look twice but they’re in this class because they need just a little extra help.

The “learning problems” teacher (let’s call her Ms. F since that rolls off the tongue a bit more gracefully, don’t you think?) adores Leo. She said he’s a hard worker, loves to be involved in class discussions. Her kids have welcomed him into the class and seem to really enjoy his presence. The interesting thing about this group of kids is they all know they have a problem. They know they’re different, that they’re not good at something and they need help. I don’t know this for sure but I’m going to take a leap and say that I don’t think Leo gets this (about himself) right now. I actually hope he never does but at the same time I suppose it’s a double edged sword—don’t you have to be fairly intelligent to grasp something like that? And I know Leo is incredibly intelligent. One of the many signs of just how smart Leo is? He completely knows when you are pretending to understand him. Most times he's not satisfied you get what he's saying unless you repeat it back to him.

In the meantime, Mrs. F proclaimed Leo the best reader in her class (remember, he’s in second grade and there are third graders in this class). Now for the comic relief: There is much reading aloud in her room and the other day after Leo read his portion, one of the children who really struggles with reading took a deep breath, sat back and said “I think Leo’s a genius.”

Now for the not so cute. Speech. Leo is continues to be very, very difficult to understand. He’s been in private therapy (supplementing what he receives in school) since November and when I asked his school speech therapist if she’d seen any difference since then? She answered a resounding No. My heart sank a little. I wasn’t expecting a miracle, but I guess I was expecting something. A little glimmer of hope. A small bone. At the same time, I obviously want her to be honest. Stroking my parental ego does no one any favors.

It’s baffling to me. Leo says some words and phrases (“That’s boring!” and “Mommy, I’m still hungry!”) clear as a bell. Others (and there are many, many others) leave us scratching our heads. We get frustrated. He gets impatient and understandably frustrated. Of course he does. He’s trying to communicate. We, his family, and to some extent his teachers, get a lot of what he’s saying by context. But we can’t expect the rest of the world to know Leo’s context just to be able to have a conversation with him.

Leo is an ebullient, chatty presence everywhere he goes, including the daily “snack and conversation” held in Ms. F’s room. The other children are extremely patient and curious and include Leo fully. They are, according to Ms. F, just dying to know what Leo is saying. Join the club.

And speech is everything. Or, speech is his bridge to the rest of the world. And the thing is, it’s not like Leo doesn’t have things to day. He’s not speech delayed anymore by any stretch. In fact, he won’t shut up (never thought I’d say that!). He is so friendly and outgoing and interested in the world and people around him. I just worry about how long that openness will last if he’s constantly met with “What did you say? Huh? I’m sorry Leo, I can’t understand you.” I’m afraid if we can’t help him figure this speech thing out, at some point, he’s going to shut down, to not even try.

Both his school and private therapist agree that they want him to be checked by an ENT for something physical (inflamed sinuses? Tonsils? Perhaps a palate issue though wouldn’t this have been discovered already?)—something—anything that night explain why speech is so largely unintelligible. His ABR last summer was all clear so we know he can hear. I’m looking into apraxia but that’s something for a neurologist.

I just want to help him. He has SO much to say.

Sprung

What everyone is wearing this spring: Calves.



The first day of spring. After the winter that wasn't.



This picture reminded me a little of this one (scroll all the way to the bottom of that post to see photo I'm referring to). Hard to believe it's been almost a year. With the weather suddenly warmer, my thoughts turn to last year at this time. Huge, swollen, slightly miserable, itchy and only two kids to contend with. Life's a little different now.

And life's about to get different again. After almost a year home, I'm going back to work next week. I cannot believe nearly a year has gone by. I've been in a baby bubble, a twin time warp. Pick your cliche. I'm excited. I'm nervous. Suddenly all the things that have driven me batty about being home (the endless, relentless laundry, the screeching babies, the whining big kids) leave me shrugging. Eh. I can handle it. But of course, it's also bittersweet. I won't be taking care of babies all day every day (relief!) but also? I won't be taking care of babies all day every day. The grass is always greener, and all of that.

In case you haven't noticed, I don't handle change all that well. I'm getting better, and I have tools to handle things better than I used to but I'm prepared for some bumps. It's been my experience that kids and babies are fairly adaptable--usually way more so than grown-ups who tend to over think things. "I find the anticipation of change much more challenging than the change itself," --words from a wise friend--is my mantra these days.


Good thing I have such a great little crew at home to cheer me on.

Faith, Trust, Pixie Dust and the Poolside Mai Tais Were Pretty Great Too

In spite of how it looks here, we did not plan on color coordinating our outfits with Tigger and Pooh.

When Erin announced, right after the holidays that she wanted us to go to Disneyworld, my reaction was simple.

Are you crazy?

But somehow, through her magical and mysterious ways, I was convinced. And I admit. I was skeptical. Two little kids, one with a predeliction for wandering off? Twin babies? On an airplane to Florida and all of us, loose in a giant theme park? How were we going to pull this off?

And when I told people we were going to Disneyworld? All of us? Everyone had the same reaction.

Are you crazy?

Well. We have four kids. Clearly we are crazy.

But we did it. We went to Disneyworld.

And I'll tell you right now. I'm a believer. I get it. The Disney magic? I bought into it all.

I don't even know where to begin. I've spent the last seventy two hours gazing at pictures, still on a vacation buzz. Dreams do come true.

We stayed at the Wilderness Lodge which was perfect for us, lovers of the pacific northwest. And the fact that we could get to the Magic Kingdom via boat in less than thirty minutes (including wait time for said boat) wasn't bad either.

I'll preface all of this by saying our expectations for this trip were low. We didn't want to try to plan too much or try to do too much. I told Erin I would be ecstatic if we all just got home safely (i.e. no lost children at the Magic Kingdom). What can I say? I'm a worrier. We weren't even sure if the kids could handle two days at the Magic Kingdom and we went back and forth over whether we should try to do another park too (Epcot? Universal Orlando? Sea World?).

We thought it best to go with the flow and the flow ended up being, two days at the Magic Kingdom with a day of rest in between (that's where the fabulous poolside mai tais came in).

One day, a few weeks before we left for the trip when I was on the phone with someone at Disneyworld for the ninety seventh time (OK I lied, I am a little bit of a planner), the Disney cast member was checking on something for me. "Hakuna Matata," she said. I paused for a moment, confused. Then I realized, she was quoting "The Lion King." Of course she was. No worries. Of course! And that became our mantra for the trip. Whenever Erin and I sensed the other was getting stressed out or bunchy, it was "Hakuna Matata!" And I'm not embarrassed to say that it worked.

Our first day at the Magic Kingdom we had one goal. Tinkerbell. For Ellie.

Ellie was nervous. Tinkerbell has surpassed Princesses for Ellie (thank goodness--there is something way less annoying and almost empowering about the fairies--OK that's probably going a little far but you know what I mean--but I do like that Tink is a "Can Do" kind of gal). I don't think Ellie could quite believe she was going to actually meet Tinkerbell.

Not the world's best picture, but I had to include it. Tink gave Leo and Ellie fairy dust and here they are showing it off. In the end, Ellie was disappointed that she hadn't been able to fly with Tinkerbell.

For Leo, the goals were Woody and Buzz.

Check (with bonus Jessie).

And Check again.

Ride-wise, two of the biggest hits were Peter Pan's Flightand It's a Small World (which will always remain close to my heart since I loved it as a child and it was the only ride that all of us (even the babies!) were able to ride together). Ellie kept asking why the dolls weren't waving back at her. Sometimes I really do forget that she's four.

Leo also loved the Tomorrowland Speedway.

Here he's showing off his "license."

The Magic Carpets of Aladdin was another favorite.

The Teacups (with Grandma Jerry, to boot!) were also memorable.


And me? Fruitball that I am, lover of "Glee" (the old Glee, not so much this season) and Broadway musicals, I LOVED the "Celebrate a Dream" parade (that's us, above, waiting for it to start).

I loved it SO much, I forced everyone to watch the parade twice (not in the same day, don't worry). Just watch that snippet and see the hug Leo received and just try not to feel like the world is a wonderful place. Or at the very least, that Disneyworld is a wonderful place.

The kids loved the parade too. What's not to love? It was the most perfect, awesome Disney mash-up. All the characters! All the princesses! Together! Coupled with a catchy little song that is still in my brain five days later!

You just don't get smiles bigger than that, anywhere.

Those babies were there too.


Harry, aka Shameless, who tries to steal everything and anything from Lucy, even her bottle, when she's sleeping. Seriously Harry, how low can you go?

I like to call this one "Mission Accomplished." Finally napping.

Trying to find the quickest way to Splash Mountain. Shockingly enough the babies were not much help.

Back at the hotel we swam (did I mention Ellie can officially swim?). I mean, she's been taking lessons but I hadn't really seen her in action.

Side note about the pool: I have never felt so safe at a pool with kids. At one point I asked the lifeguard a question and he said he could not turn to look at me because he had to keep his eyes on the pool at all times. Another time Leo wouldn't leave the pool when both Erin and I had to get out with the babies who both got cold and tired of swimming at the same time. The lifeguard told me not to worry, that Leo was fine, that "no one was going to drown."

I enjoyed the break from cooking and cleaning up the kitchen approximately seventy-nine times a day. It was also heavenly to come back to a clean hotel room every night. Daily housekeeping? I could get used to that.

Wash cloths and hand towels on the bed at our hotel. No detail is too small for Disney.

This trip did wonders for my confidence as the mother of four (cough, cough I am still not used to saying that). And as a family of six (again I am coughing). For a while I was terrified that Life As We Knew It was over. That we'd never do fun stuff again (well, I knew we'd do it again, I just thought it would be a long while). I'm not going to say it was easy or that there weren't a few moments of What Were We Thinking? But I have to say those moments were fewer and farther between than I expected.

We concluded our first day at the Magic Kingdom with the fabulous "Wishes" fireworks spectacular. It has it all, wonderfully cheesy Disney music with a montage of Disney quotes about wishes ("I wish I could be part of that world" (Little Mermaid); "I wish I could go to the ball," (Cinderella); "I wish we'd never have to grow up" (Peter Pan).

I never realized the thread that ties so many (all?) of the Disney movies together: wishes.

Star bright, star light, first star I see tonight, I wish I may, I wish I might, have the wish, I wish tonight, we make a wish as dreamers do and all our wishes will come true.

We didn't lose any children. We didn't go crazy (well, any crazier than we already are). We drank mai tais (yes I'm still thinking about those mai tais) and juice boxes poolside, hugged fairies and Tigger and Pooh (and many, many more). At least one baby slept through the night in the hotel room.

Some wishes do come true.

This Week in Shopping Cart History and Leo, the Peanut Expert

Nine weeks old

Nine months old.

I think it's safe to say we've come a long way, babies!

***

On Friday Leo was part of the second grade's "wax museum" to honor famous and accomplished African Americans (for Black History Month). Each student studied, wrote about and dressed as a famous person--Leo was George Washington Carver, a scientist, botanist and inventor who reputedly developed 300 uses for peanuts (ah, the things you learn in second grade).

I totally see a resemblance, don't you?


Leo took this project very seriously. He loves dressing in a costume and was very good about practicing his "speech" every night. It was a sweet concept. We walked into the classroom and there were thirty children all dressed in character. You pressed a red button (seen above, bottom right) and the children "came alive" and read a short paragraph about their accomplishments.


It never ceases to amaze me what a different person Leo is at school. I think that's all kids really. But look at him! So poised and earnest, his little hands resting on the chair, waiting for someone to push his button so he could give his speech. At the end of his talk he held up his two "props," a bag of peanuts and a jar of peanut butter. I had a coming attraction for this at home when, at the end of practicing his speech he spent several minutes with his head in the refrigerator searching and searching for...peanut butter. Of course.

It Gets Better: Alternatively Titled, Don't Fall Asleep at the Drive-Thru

OK, OK, I didn't fall asleep. I placed my order (large hazelnut coffee with cream and bagel if you must know). Took my order. And forgot to leave.

The confused man at the pick-up window opened his sliding glass window and said "Ma'am? Can I help you with something?"

"Oh!" I smiled and reached down to put the car into drive. Right! Time to go. Hey, at least I didn't forget one of the babies somewhere. I seriously worry about that all the time. Check my rear view mirror constantly. Still there. Still there. It was also just last week that I drove down the street before I realized I'd left the stroller on the curb. Again, babies were safe in the car (pfew!).
***
I meet them everywhere: The moms of twins. At Target and the park and Shoprite and the community center where Ellie takes classes. "It gets better," they all say to me, gazing down at my two with nods of pity and recognition. "Mine are seven now," says the carefree, well-rested mom with the smooth, freshly blown out hair and the crip, tasteful, stain free outfit. "Mine are twenty now," laughs another. "They're hardly any trouble at all!"

At the same time, in nine short (or some might say long) months, we have come SO far. We are no longer the newbies. Last week while I was waiting for Ellie at ballet I saw a mom with the telltale Gigantic Ridiculous Stroller. She was cradling one baby (two weeks? Two months? Hard to tell with twin babies). But little. The other baby was sleeping. They were tiny, squishy and not an ounce of me envied this mom in any way. I looked over at Harry and Lucy, looking practically like teenagers, compared to the newborns, Harry kicking his rotund little legs, Lucy looking around wide-eyed at the four year old girls in their pink ballet dresses.

Maybe someday I'll look back at those early days fondly and with wistfulness, but for now? I just feel like we survived.
***
It's been a little rough around here the last few days. Harry ruined my Oscar party on Sunday night (OK it was just Erin and me but still, I am the nerd who wakes up the morning of the Oscars and says "Only fifteen hours 'till the Oscars!). No matter that I'd seen exactly one nominated movie (setting a personal record for the fewest Oscar nominated movies seen in one year--I'll give you two guesses why). Back to Harry. Poor dude went to bed warm and woke up hot--103.5. So proceeded a long night of cool bathes and Tylenol and very little sleep. The next day came the news of a double ear infection. It's so Harry. Our little drama guy. Poor little man can't just get an ear infection. He has to spike a giant, ugly fever that won't stay down.

He's better today, knock on wood, but still clearly pretty miserable.
***
I think one of the hardest thing about having babies is all that time spent at home. Don't get me wrong. I love home, but sometimes it gets to be a bit much. I know myself and my mental health is so much better when I get out. At least once a day. Bonus if the getting "out" means time spent outside. In the fresh air.

And yesterday, that's just what we did. It was another laughably beautiful and mild "winter" day here (sunny and 55 degrees in February, yes it's true). Oh sure it wasn't until 1:30 that we actually got out of the house, but out of the house we were.
Ellie, a true child of the suburbs thought it was just delightful that we were able to walk to run an errand (pick up dry cleaning).

No folks, we sure aren't in Brooklyn anymore, but still, a walk is a walk. And I am all for the avoidance of the lugging and schlepping of babies and children in and out of the car.


And no, those photos aren't staged. The babies hold hands every chance they get. And I melt every time.

Jolly, Procrastinating

This picture has nothing to do with this post except that I wanted to share the news that I've decided Harry is "Jolly." Look at him, all smiley and round. He got so excited about something he just flapped his little arms so hard that he simply tipped over. Yup, jolly. Also, he's in love with the dog. Sometimes I will look over at him and he's gazing at her and just giggling. He thinks she's hilariously entertaining (that's who he's grinning at as I caught him, mid-fall, except Ansel Adams here cut the dog out of the photo).

***

Speaking of jolly, we leave for Disney World in eleven days. Have I started packing? No. Have I even looked in the storage closet to refresh my memory as to what kind of luggage we have to choose from and considered what the options are now that four have become six?

That would be a negative.

Denial. Procrastination.

I loathe packing.

I realize this is a giant first world problem. I mean, whoa is me, I'm going to Disney World (though I'm sure there are some out there who are pitying me). But still. Packing for six (because let's be honest here). Scary stuff. I don't even know where to begin. By the way, if anyone has any You absolutely must bring this or do this Disney World related wisdom you'd like to bestow on me, I'm all ears.

I'm not sure what I'm more excited about: seeing the wonder on the face of my children as they lay eyes on the Place Where Dreams Come True (cough, cough) or getting a break from loading and unloading the dishwasher approximately twelve times a day (seriously I sometimes feel like that's what I spend the majority of my day doing).

On Arguments and Differences and Pink for the Boys

Sometimes it feels like I spend my days negotiating. Deals are made. But Why? The "Whys" are adorable when they relate to the magical world around us. "Why do some clouds look like flowers and some clouds look like clouds?" Not so cute when I ask for coats and shoes to go on and I'm met with why? For what feels like the ninetieth time. The arguing is especially bountiful and brutal with my darling, inquisitive, and yes, beloved four year old.

Everything, yes, everything is a discussion. And yes, discussion is the polite word for it.

But I can't argue with any of this. Especially the "I am happy" part.

No arguments here either, nope. This is not a bad way to start the day.

Aw, but babies don't argue. I mean, not really.

And in non-argumentative news, somebody loves to feed herself. She already seems to have great fine motor skills and can pick up minuscule pieces of dust on the carpet (not that that ever happens because our house is immaculate I assure you). Side note: I've decided Ruby the dog can stay (she's developed a mind numbingly annoying habit of barking to go out, then instantly wants to come back in, then when you go to actually let her in she looks up at you with her smokey brown eyes and truly, if a dog could mock you, she would). But she can stay, because dogs eat all the food the babies drop on the floor and therefore I don't have to sweep (often). But I hope Ruby has spare pair of elastic waist pants because she's about to gain the old "toddler fifteen" (I swear she gained fifteen pounds after Leo started on solids and she never lost it).

But back to the eating. Others are, hmm...how shall I put this? Less interested in self-feeding? Perhaps his eyelashes are getting in the way? Then again, why would you want to feed yourself if you had someone to do it for you?

I know this comes as an absolute news flash to all but these babies are so different! Imagine that. They have such unique personalities and strengths. Once you have a child with delays who does nothing when they are supposed to, you sort of forget about milestones I think. Having two babies side-by-side I think it's impossible not to compare a little and that's where it gets interesting. Harry is strong, sits up like a champ but can't seem to wrap his head around picking up food and putting it in his mouth (he puts all kind of other things in his mouth). Lucy on the other hand, is fine at sitting as long as you have a hand right at her side for when she just tips right over. She loves to be on her stomach and has been spotted rocking on her knees so I'm thinking crawling isn't too far away. No rush Lucy, no rush.

While Lucy "caws," chortles, babbles and screeches, Harry is much quieter, though he does his share of vocalizations. He still does his deep little Donald Duck voice, but he's a fan of a high pitch scream, akin to a four year old girl who just saw a spider.

Did I forget to mention Lucy is also suddenly terrified of strangers? Bursts into tears at the face of a friendly little old lady at the grocery store. Cannot wait for Lucy to start at daycare in a month. That is going to be awesome. Harry, meanwhile, seems to be affable guy. Also, he flirts. Bats those eyelashes at anyone and everyone.


Speaking of Harry, he had a pretty bad diaper rash this weekend. (Is anyone still reading this? Have I bored you to tears yet?) Anyway, for some reason you can't use diaper cream or powder on cloth diapers (Erin wants to know what will happen if you do? Do the Cloth Diaper Police come to your door and issue you a summons? Yes, I'm pretty sure they do).

So when a rash develops, you have to use disposables, which I always forget to buy to have on hand just in case. We happened to have an extra Disney Princess (only the best for Harry) Pull-Up, size 4-5T. And it fit him. So apparently the inability to self-feed? Not interfering with the weight gain.