The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Oh I want to stop time right now. I love love love the stretch of days between Thanksgiving all the way through New Year’s. It means warm houses and cooking and baking and choral music and decorations and time off work and time home with the kids and visiting family. I’m in a bit of denial about all the gifts that need purchasing and goodies that need to made, wrapped and distributed to various teachers, therapists and caregivers. It's making me feel a little itchy, to be honest. Oh heck, it will be fun, right? And it will all get done because it always does.

Here are a few other tidbits, since I seem incapable of a coherent post.

-All this “home time” the last four days reminded me how the kids have been playing soooo well together lately, I’m almost afraid to talk about it. They come up with elaborate schemes, such as outdoor tea parties which translate to: put all the outdoor chairs around the mini trampoline, sit in the chairs, and pretend to eat and drink. There is also train assembling (lining up various furniture to make “trains”) and of course, good old stand-bys, like “making a bed” (see above). To say nothing of “doctor,” and “school.”

-Most of these ideas are orchestrated by Ellie (who is quite the boss) but Leo is an eager participant. There is less bickering now that Ellie can call Leo on his antics (I don’t love the tattle tale trait but it’s mighty convenient when I’m upstairs and they are in the basement playroom and Leo is doing something like, oh I don’t know, stacking a stool on top of a table so that he can reach a shelf). NOT COOL and he knows it but this doesn’t stop him from trying to get away with it.

-Leo is talking a lot. While he continues to be difficult to understand at times, he has a couple of new phrases that come out clear as a bell:
“I got it.”
“No thank you.”
“Here you go.”
"I don't know."

-Ellie no longer seems to enjoy being my translator. If I ask her what Leo is saying she almost always responds “I dunno” whereas two months ago she always knew just what he was saying. However when they are playing and I hear them talking to each other and I have no earthly idea what Leo is saying, Ellie always does. So I think she’s just holding out on me. Oh well. As long as they understand each other.

-We got our Christmas tree on Saturday. I told you we like to drink up this season for all it's worth. I almost think we don't need to bother with presents for Leo this year because he was positively enthralled with all the decorations. I'm kidding of course about the presents but he had a blast with it all. The little figurines and miniature Christmas themed stuffed animals and music boxes collected over the years and dreidels make for some good, good times. Who knew? He assembled all the "guys" so that it looked like there was this giant holiday caucus between a porcelain Santa and about twenty various Rudolphs, snowmen, ceramic houses and trains. Then, as we were decorating the tree Ellie announced: "This is going to be the best Christmas ever!" Minutes later came the melodramatic proclamation that "Christmas was ruined!" I have no idea where she gets this kind of talk.

-You can call me cheesy (it wouldn't be the first time) but I cannot stop listening to “Just the Way You Are” from last week’s “Glee.” I would watch that wedding reception scene too, non-stop too if anyone in the house let me view anything but Nick Jr., but that’s another story. (Scroll down to the second video clip on this page to see it).

That song. That scene. It was just…life affirming. And inspiring and could apply to so many realms of life: Down syndrome, being a gay teenager, being gay period, not feeling like you fit in or belong or matter, no matter what it is that makes you "different." Well you do. You’re amazing. Just the way you are.

Thankful

No question, the highlight of last week (and there weren’t many, trust me, other than we got through it) was the post dinner Beatles dance party on Tuesday night. There was a story on NPR (the supper time soundtrack) about the Beatles finally being released on iTunes. For some reason I decided to play the kids a few songs, which led to one of my all time favorites—“In My Life.” So there was Leo, strumming his soy corn dog stick like a guitar. And there was Ellie, boogying, a la one of the Peanuts Kids.

It was a lovely, silly, sweet transcending moment, amidst a week of work stress and a frantic call from the school nurse to quickly come get a puking Leo. Let’s just say the words “New York” and “New Jersey” and “quickly” should never be used together. Oh and Leo was fine, by the way.

In other news, who doesn’t LOVE a two and a half day work week? Let’s hear it for long holiday weekends!

Speaking of Thanksgiving, last week when I was dropping Ellie off at school in the morning, I spotted her class’ latest Thanksgiving creation (no, not that one up there, though that one is pretty spectacular and offered me a much needed laugh—oops, is it mean to giggle at your kid’s art project?). No, the piece I’m talking about was a simple card with a small, clumsy turkey collage. Underneath, each child had dictated “what they were thankful for.” Ellie’s read:

“I’m thankful for Leo.”

And darn it if I didn’t tear up a little in the pre-k hallway.

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.).

On Joy

The highly anticipated “Hey Diddle Diddle” DVD arrived in the mail yesterday. It did not disappoint. To borrow Amy’s description, Leo practically vibrated he was so excited to watch it.

Last night, as I performed my evening delicate balancing act of cooking dinner-unpacking lunchboxes-unloading-loading dishwasher, Leo watched his new “movie” in silent rapture. Silent, that is, except for when he was jumping up and down and exclaiming “Yay!” and singing along with the lyrics.

I’ve said it before and I’m sure I’ll say it again. Leo’s ability to express joy and celebrate the littlest things in life is humbling and inspiring. And I do mean celebrate. I know this is true of many kids, but I’ve never seen it like I see it in Leo. Another bonus? You always know where you stand with Leo. When things are good they are very, very good. When they are not they are…not.

It’s not just that Leo expresses happiness differently and more, shall we say, exuberantly. It’s that he prefers to be happy. He actively seeks this joy. It’s the good old default setting that I wrote about once. I think about this often, especially, say, when he's run to the back of the mini van or decided he absolutely does not want to get dressed for school. Sure those moments are maddening and bang-my-head-against-the-wall worthy. But they are fleeting. And they are only a tiny part of the whole, complicated package that makes up Leo.

I was talking to a friend the other day about our kids and she mentioned how she felt almost frustrated with her typical child, for not being more open about how she felt about “fun” stuff. Was she having a good time? Did she think what they were doing was exciting? With her other child, who has Down syndrome, there was never a question. If she was happy everyone knew. And if she wasn’t, well, you know the rest.

What I wouldn’t do to attain the place that Leo has found. Oh I do, but not with such ease. Luckily, Leo’s glee is often contagious.

Leo with Grandpa at Laurelhurst Park, summer 2008. Just look at that face.

Ebullient, unrestrained joy is a beautiful sight to see. I hope you get to experience it someday. It truly makes all the hard stuff, well, not so hard.

When All Else Fails: Hump Day List

Halloween is over and it’s apparently Christmas, did you know? At least according to Midtown Manhattan. The Radio City Christmas tree is up and and the pretzel/hot dog vendors have their little carts regaled in Santa hats and twinkling white lights. Life is passing by at an uncomfortable speed and I want to put the brakes on and enjoy, because no question, October to December is my absolute favorite time of year.

In other news, the only realistic blog I have in my right now is bullets, so here goes:

-Ellie continues with the nightly bedtime hilarity. It seems that every other night she plumb passes out with the help of her ballet shoes music box and a long backrub. But the nights that she doesn’t? She is often in and out of our room a half a dozen times with various comments and requests. Mostly, she just has to tell us again that she loves us, which, as I’ve said before, how can you argue with this?

-Monday night, however, she ventured beyond the second floor and scared the heck out of me when the little stealth Ninja silently, snuck up on me as I washed dishes at the kitchen sink. She said “Hi Mommy.” And when I gasped and jumped three feet, I thought she was going to burst into tears. She couldn’t figure out how she could have scared me.

-Thirty minutes after the sneaking-up-on-me incident, Ellie knocked on our bedroom door to give Erin her watch (which she had found in the bathroom). This was after she tried to stuff it under our door. It just cracks me up how she knocks on our door.

-Ellie now has homework. She’s three. I think it’s a little silly but oh well. Apparently many of the parents have requested it. It’s just little worksheets. She knows a lot of her letters and numbers but the actual writing of them is definitely new to her. But she’s very excited to settle down on Saturday mornings to do it and bonus: when she’s doing it Leo wants to do his, so that works out well.

-Leo has an amazing imagination. He sees “stairs” in the shape that he’s bitten pizza. The other night he declared the tortellini he was eating for dinner looked like a pirate hat (and you know what? He was right). And of course, he put the little tiny tortellini pirate hat on his head (not all of his imaginative observations are food related, I assure you, these are just recent ones).

-Leo says “bless you” when someone sneezes. He’s really quite a polite child. I love it. He’s also started saying “Here you go” when he gives you something.

-In shopping news, how cute is that whale sweater up there? I spotted this at Forever 21 (not a store I frequent, in fact I have never even been in one) which I ventured into on my way to work this morning. This sweater reminds me of 1983 and I love it. Unfortunately the extra small would be huge on Ellie but mental note to check back there again when Ellie is a little bigger.

Words of Wisdom

I think this is pretty great.

I read it this morning, hot tears streaming down my cheeks, for reasons I can't go into right now.

It's been a hard week. Something is up with Ellie. She has a cold or is coming down with something. She's whiny from the moment I pick her up, to the moment she passes out, which for every night this week, has been at about 10 p.m. She tries my patience like no one I have ever known (even Leo!) and my frustration is often tinged with guilt. She wants macaroni and cheese now! She doesn't want that kind of macaroni and cheese! It's too hot! She wants her new library book! She doesn't want her library book on her bed!

And oh is our girl emotional. Yesterday morning, after Leo boarded his bus and I drove Ellie to preschool, she asked me where Leo was (though she knew full well). I watched her consider the morning's events, through the rear view mirror, and then she announced quietly: "When Leo goes, I make tears."

Is she needy because she misses me? Is she like this because she doesn't see me all day? Is she starved for attention? Or is she just plain tired? Probably a combination of all of that. I try to make up for everything on the weekends (letting her sleep in, when possible, extra cuddles, plenty of down time) but that only goes so far. Or is this just what it feels like to be three years and four months old? How can I not give her "just another hug." One more kiss. More back rubs. There are never enough back rubs.

So yes, we are all just a bit exhausted. But I know these moments are fleeting. These too, shall pass.

Meanwhile, Leo has had a wonderful week. He's been talkative and agreeable and helpful and although I'm afraid to even say it out loud, the new car seats seem to be working out quite well. I haven't had a "get in the van" meltdown once this week!

And in the mornings, before the sun comes up, I wake to Leo's warm little body squeezed up against mine. In his sleep he is more cuddly than he is awake. He rests his little baseball mit palm on my side and breathes quietly, serenly. Gone are the days of his torturously restless sleeping habits: the epileptic octopus sleeper is officially no more. He's now a sweet little bed companion. And when he wakes and sees Erin and me both there he breaks into one of his trademark grins, wraps his arms around our necks and declares "Whole Family!"

***

Often, the comments section for little pieces like the one I posted above are not worth reading, but there were a few gems in there, for sure. A few bear repeating, especially for me, this week.

“Honey, I have three sons – all grown. All I can say is I really wish I would have yelled less and drank more.”--Tabatha

"What I’ve learned: My five don’t remember the countless healthy, home cooked meals that I have spent years of my life planning and cooking, but they all still whisper fondly of the night mom was so sick that all she could do was dump a box of Lucky Charms in a large mixing bowl, pour in the milk and hand them their own spoon and told them to dive in!"--Kristi

"I’ve learned that sleep is overrated (also coveted, but still overrated). When my youngest is a surly teenager, I’ll wish he still wanted to wake me up at 5 a.m. to cuddle and talk to me about superheroes."--Lylah

"My biggest lesson is learning to move on. I’ve made mistakes. I’ll make more. I can’t dwell on them. I can learn from them, hope my children learn from them, and move on to the next thing."--Jules

"Just try to remember…little people, little problems, big people, big problems. What seems insurmountable today, will be nothing in a few years."--Dianne

"Apologize. Teach them that no one is perfect, not even parents."--Keyona

"My mother in law told me this once and I always try to remember it whenever I get OCD about cleaning my house:
'Your children will not remember how clean your kitchen floor was when they are older, they will remember the time you spent with them when you wanted to clean the kitchen floor.'"--Random Chick


"No matter how tired I am, or how much I don’t want to, if they ask for another good night kiss, to read a story, sing a song, play a game, sit in my lap, “help” me with something, I always say yes. Because I never know if this will be the last time they ask.Hearing you are loved by your parents is something you never outgrow, even if you act like you don’t care."--Sarah

Amen.