Someday We'll Look Back On This and Laugh, Volume 972

Hey. Whatcha doin'?

Saturday morning dawned early as it always does (Hi Harry!). I let him cry in his crib longer than I probably should have but sometimes it just gets so old, feeling like every morning I'm awakened by a fire drill. There is no stretching of achy muscles, no contemplating the events of the coming day. It's more like a slap in the face or having a bucket of cold water poured on you. 

Hi! Hi! Get Up! Get Up! You! Are! Needed!

The thought that there was once a time that I not only needed to set an alarm, but that I had the audacity to press the snooze button, to let my body wake gradually? Laughable. I think Tina Fey may have said it best:  "It's the year after the baby comes that is like someone hitting you every day in the face with a hammer." 

I would argue the second year is not exactly a vacation either, particularly with two (or, um, four. Heh).

Yes, yes, I know, someday I will need an alarm clock, someday I will read the New York Times in bed on Sunday morning, while I glance at the phone and think "That Ellie never visits anymore. I haven't seen Harry and Leo for months and why won't Lucy return my calls?"

Anyway, blah, blah, blah sleep talk=boring. You can sleep when you're dead and all that (and believe me, I intend to!). Really, all of this back story ranting is just leading up to this:

No, that's not my actual phone. But that's exactly what my phone looked like at about 5 a.m. Saturday morning. When awakened throughout the night (sometimes by a baby's cry but way more often these days by a big kid climbing into our bed) I often glance at my phone to check the time. And apparently at some point on Friday night/early Saturday morning, I did just that, and then, in a hazy, dreamy, half-asleep state, promptly set the phone down perfectly in A Glass of Water. Where it remained for at least four hours. I mean, who does that? Well, apparently I do. To quote a friend's response to my phone + cup of water: "Gee. Do you have kids?"

I was surprisingly zen about the whole thing (and no, it's not because I was going to use my ridiculousness as an excuse to upgrade to the iPhone 5). I think four kids have dulled my ability to freak out about anything that doesn't involve hospitalization or death. At the end of the day (or in this case, at the way beginning of the day!) it's just a silly phone. An inconvenience, a financial annoyance (though I send huge props to the Geniuses at the Genius Bar at the Apple store on Fifth Avenue who cut me a sweet little deal on a "new to me" phone). Hint: If you kill your iPhone, run, don't walk, to the Genius Bar. Don't even bother with your phone carrier who, if you're not eligible for an upgrade will quote you ridiculously large, scary sounding numbers.

I was most upset about the fact that it had been a while since I'd backed the phone up and was pretty sure I'd lost a few thousand pictures.* And quite a bit of music. I know. My fault. But the phone going into the glass of water? Totally the kids' fault. At least, indirectly. Isn't everything?

*Happily most of the photos and music were retrieved. A pre-Hanukkah phone miracle!

An Epic Tale of the Nightmare Before, During and After Halloween or Why I Stopped Blogging for "31 or 21"*

So I'm here to tell you I have one HECK of an excuse for the disintegration of my end of "31 for 21."

I wish it weren't so.

Let's take stock, shall we? In the last eighty-six hours I have:

-Gone to Costco for party supplies for our little Halloween shindig and filled an entire refrigerator.

-Because (forshadowing here) nothing says "Power Outage!" like a full refrigerator, right?
I took this photo for the insurance company. I don't normally document my refrigerator, by the way.
But look at the giant, gorgeous hunk of brie. For my beloved cheese plate. It breaks my heart.

-Baked forty-eight pumpkin cupcakes and lovingly frosted them with cream cheese frosting.

-Watched, through the living room window, snow fall hard and quickly on trees full of golden, orange and brown leaves. Something is wrong with this picture.

-Heard the snap, like gun shots of trees falling all around us (PLEASE DON'T HIT THE HOUSE PLEASE DON'T HIT THE HOUSE).

My poor neighbor's tree.


-Answered call after call from guests who "couldn't get out of their driveways" or who were "afraid to go out in the storm."

-Watched little Ellie's shoulders slump and her lip quiver with the question "Why isn't anyone coming to my party?" [Insert stab to my heart here.] Ellie has been talking about and planning this party for weeks and weeks, every day it's "Hey guys I have an idea for the party!

-Cringed as the lights flickered, once, twice, went off, came back on and finally, off.

-Remembered, once again, how there are few things in life more cringe inducing than the ominous thud of your house's power going off. As if I needed reminding.

-Felt uneasy as darkness falls. It's going to be a long, cold night. Put socks, hats, two sleepers and extra blankets on the babies in their swings (it's too cold to put them upstairs). Check their cold hands every three hours as the temperature in our house slowly drops to 48 degrees.

-Made the decision with Erin that we could not spend another night in the house without heat and began the stressful process of trying to find a hotel room in the most densely populated state in the country boasting half a million people without power.

-Found a hotel room! Thirty miles away. Sigh.

Of course the kids thought it was a party. Our hotel had a pool! And room service! They got to eat pizza and watch Spongebob in bed. Halloween Party? What Halloween Party?

Someone in housekeeping had a lot of fun cleaning our room.


-Spent first night in hotel room. SO MUCH FUN WITH BABIES, by the way.

-Returned to house in the morning to throw away roughly $1000 dollars worth of rotting food (and don't forget the deep freeze which really comes in handy when, you know, buying in bulk.

-Driven back to hotel room for more "Spongebob."

We basically skipped Halloween. We were told by the hotel management (when they saw the kids) that there was a neighborhood a few blocks from the hotel where they could Trick or Treat but that just felt, I don't know. Weird. Then I got an email from our town that Halloween had been postponed for next week. So I didn't feel too bad. Did I mention Leo's school was closed Monday through Wednesday and is finally just reopening tomorrow?


-Woke up Tuesday morning to the news that our hotel would not be able to extend our reservation past the initial two days despite the fact that they assured us, upon check-in, that we could stay as long as we needed (No, I'm not bitter about this at all, why do you ask?)

-Paused to realize the babies were five months old! By second night, babies seemed to enjoy hotel bed.

-Made hotel manager find us a new, comparable hotel room.

-Drove the kids thirty miles to Ellie's school (where Leo used to also attend after-care and where they graciously let him go too on Tuesday so I could move our belongings without the "help" of four kids), first stopping at Dunkin Donuts to get lunches for the kids (I can't even believe I just typed that). Felt like circus sideshow as I hauled all four children into Dunkin Donuts to buy bagels with cream cheese (aka lunch).

-Felt concern that Lucy doesn't seem well. She has a low grade fever, which I learn when I stop at the house to check her temperature. Did I mention the interior of the house was 45 degrees? Harry doesn't seem great either. He's got that hacking cough that won't go away. Called doctor to make sick visit appointment.

-Needed to return to hotel to move our things to "new" hotel but first take babies to the doctor. Ta-da! Twin ear infections. Because there just wasn't enough going on.

-Rushed back to hotel room to pack room while Harry provided soundtrack. Nothing says fun like throwing your family's belongings into shopping bags as fast as you can while a sick baby screams in the background.

-Arrived at new hotel. Use term "hotel" loosely. Feel disgusted by the fact that while we may have been assigned a "non-smoking room," just walking through the hallway gives me a sore throat. Decide we cannot stay there. Put things back in the car and drive nervously back toward home, willing, praying, hoping that somehow, the power came back.

-En route to pharmacy to drop off babies' antibiotic, call neighbor, to check if, on the off chance the power has been restored.

-Learn the power was restored sometime around 4 p.m., right about when I was hauling bags into (and quickly out of) the Bed Bug Inn.

If I have learned one thing this year, it is to not take electricity for granted. Oh and heat is also nice. I realize, it could have been much, much worse. It was roughly four days without power. But there is just something very disconcerting about being displaced from your house and daily routine.

And after this year?

All I want for Chrismakah is a generator.


*With thanks to the illustrious Newark Star Ledger for the "Nightmare Before Halloween"

Sprung (Sort Of) and You Can't Get Too Many Hugs (But Please Stop Dribbling Apple Sauce On Purpose)

Walking to work on Thursday morning, I felt I was on furlough. I was sprung from strep jail (except, oops, I have strep now too). The high 30s temperatures felt downright spring-like.

We made it through the week. Almost. And hopefully with another 24-hours on antibiotics I’ll start to feel slightly human again. I can’t think of a better excuse for some bullets:

-I bought myself another iTunes pick-me-up. Currently on heavy repeat is the soundtrack to “Up in the Air.” As I said, the movie was eh, but the music, I love. It’s fitting my mood of late. I’m not feeling so "Glee"-like right now. I’m not sad, just feeling a little introspective. It’s gray. It’s January. It's still coldish. It’s time for folky-pop and Elliot Smith.

-I'd like to welcome some new readers in Gretna, Louisiania who have recently been introduced to the wonderful world of blogging. Hello!

-Leo has been doing this strange thing lately. He will spill something (yogurt, apple sauce) on the table or dribble it on his pants, or he’ll make a tiny tear of the page on a book. The most maddening recent incident came when I was went to put Ellie down for her nap and was gone all of two minutes. I came back and found Leo had taken all the tissues out of a full box of tissues. I was...frustrated (to put it mildly). He’s five (OK, I know, he's not really five in Down syndrome years, but still...). He is so smart. I thought we were passed this kind of stuff.

After he spills/destroys, he then comes straight to me and says (and signs) “Sorry.” It was really beginning to get on my nerves and he was clearly doing these things for attention. But he would do these things (mostly) when I was sitting right there in the room with him so I couldn’t figure out why he would need more attention.

Erin and I discussed it. As we talked about it, I decided that I think what he’s doing is he’s attempting to have an interaction of sorts. A conversation, if you will. Sure it’s not exactly constructive, but it’s definitely an exchange. He says “sorry,” I talk to him about what he did and why it was wrong, then we close with a hug. Leo can’t have the kind of back and forth exchanges we have with Ellie, so I think this is his version. And also, an excuse for attention. And a hug. It doesn’t make what he’s doing any less annoying but it does help me understand it a bit better. Erin’s idea is that I don’t make a big deal and certainly don’t close with the hug. It's not like I don't hug him all the time, for other good reasons or for no reason at all. I guess you really can't get too many hugs.

-Last night we had ice cream at the adorable mom and pop shop near our house. There was a sign on the door that read “Wan’t great pizza?” GAH! The burdon of the English major. It actually provided me with good laugh.

-Don’t tell me if this post has a typo. I’ve never been the world’s greatest grammarian but I feel pretty confident about my mastery of apostrophe's. Ha! Kidding. Apostrophes. Ah, English major humor...

I’ll leave you with some sunshine. I think we could all use some.

The Little Things

I’ll admit it. I get rattled easily. Well, by some things. There are probably other things that don’t rattle me that would rattle others. Anyway.

Certain things calm me:

-Lying down (duh).
-Red wine.
-People magazine.
-Scratching my dog’s belly.
-Holding one (or both) of my children while we read books together. It's also fun to cuddle while watching TV, though that's not as P.C. sounding. Let's face it though, it's one of the rare times they're not in motion.
-Watching the kids sleep. Extra points for tiny, sweet snores.
-Drinking coffee and listening to the weekend podcast of “This American Life” on Monday -mornings while on the bus en route to work.
-Broadway Musicals, especially "A Chorus Line," and "Rent."
-Taking a walk on crisp fall day, the falling leaves fluttering around me.
-Handel's "Messiah." I could listen to it every day, year round. Just love it. It's like church and synagogue all rolled into one.
-Baking. Preferably something with chocolate or fruit in it.
-Gardening. Getting my hands dirty and standing back to see the finished product. It’s (almost) instant gratification.

And these guys.

I have them perched on the windowsill above the kitchen sink. It's the Little People I'm referring to. The little plastic horse isn't bad either.

I don’t know why, but Little People make me happy. And they make me smile. And heck no, I don't let the kids play with these guys.

As Promised

For Sale:

Adorable five-year-old boy. Curious, inquisitive, energetic, adventurous, goal-oriented. Great hair.

(see above photo for evidence of all of the above—except it's hard to see the hair but trust me, it's beautiful-that’s the entire contents of Leo’s dresser drawers, emptied into a pile and onto his bedroom floor. This “project” was undertaken in the wee hours of the morning, natch).

Price is negotiable.

Lazy, Crazy Summer Days

It seems that I have started and stopped about a dozen posts lately.

What is there to say? Do I say that weather-wise, this has been the most non-summery summer in my history of living in the New York City area (not complaining, I detest the heat). When all else fails, talk about the weather, right?

Do I talk about how early in the morning, I am not a very nice Mommy? In the last few weeks there have been a couple of instances in which Leo has woken up just south of 5 am. Fine, normal you say, right? Well what’s not normal or acceptable (!) is that he has gone into Ellie’s room at this hour, Ellie, the delightful late sleeper of the family (7:30 most days). This morning took the cake though. Erin heard them laughing uproariously in Ellie’s room. She found Ellie in her crib, jumping up and down and giggling while Leo entertained her with his jump out of the closet antics. He would go into the closet, close the door and then jump out as if to say, surprise! Cue the hysterical laughter of the adoring two-year-old sister. If it hadn’t been so cute I would have strangled Leo, I assure you.

Speaking of this little game, Leo and Ellie are starting to talk to each other. Granted the vocabulary is limited, but it’s happening. A typical conversation goes like this:

Leo: “Ellie! Ellie!”
Ellie: “Yeah?”
Leo: “Dog! Eat!”
Ellie: Yeah Leo. Dog is eating.”

They should take that show on the road, don’t you think?

Do I say that Ellie’s language is positively exploding? And that it has a bit of an um, shall we say demanding theme to it? A few examples:

“I want to eat that right here Mommy.”
“I want to have that right now Mommy.”
"I want play with that now Mommy."

Oh and also it will probably shock no one to learn that she’s a total parrot. Let’s just say she said “Oh my god” clear as a bell the other morning. Note to self (again): watch what I say.

Or should I talk about Ellie's singing? It's become just normal practice for Ellie to walk around singing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" or the "ABC" song (her two current faves) as she plays with Little People or blocks or whatevs. I have got to get this on video for posterity or I will never forgive myself.

So in short, we are all plugging along. Work has been INSANE which is probably a big part of my absence here. At the end of the day I feel like Holly Hunter’s character in one of my favorite movies of all time, like a “puddle of poured flesh.”

And if this little confession doesn't say it all about the kind of week it's been, I don't know what does: We ran out of dog food, so our poor dog ate brown rice and turkey dogs (organic basmati brown rice from Trader Joe's mind you) two nights in a row. She didn't seem to mind, and you should have seen Ellie tossing hot dogs at the dog like a zookeeper throwing fish at the seals.

There has been a great deal of Popsicle eating and boat driving (check out the cool boat I scored at a garage sale a few weeks ago!).

It can be a pool or a sand box or you can just sit in it and eat Popsicles, which sounds pretty good to me.

We’ve been playing with cloth napkins…er kerchiefs. Look at my little yentas!

Leo seems to be doing well in his summer program. I got a call from the school social worker yesterday wondering how we were doing in our decision on what to do with Leo for the fall. Um, procrastinating? Trying to pretend like there is no decision needed to be made? I am totally avoiding it. I still feel undecided. I still feel a pang to keep him where he is for one more year. He has his whole life for inclusion, would it be so terrible for him to do one more year at the All Down syndrome All the Time School?

Oh and I’ve been doing some shopping. I found a t-shirt with this slogan on it.

I’m sure some people might misconstrue it but I gotta say that I love it. I mean, you have to have a sense of humor. Otherwise, what do you have?

Trying

I'm trying really hard to not be in a bad mood, or a sad mood, for a variety of reasons.

But even I'll admit it's hard to take life too seriously around these people:

(Photo note: It was crazy sock day at camp.)

Musings on Birthdays, Life: Please, Somebody Slap Me

I don’t know what my problem is. I am getting seriously emotional (melancholy? Hormonal?) in my old age.

As I said, Ellie turned two on Sunday.

I’m not sure if it was Sunday night blues but by Sunday afternoon I was downright teary. I’m not forty yet, not really all that close (OK, technically closer to forty than thirty for those of you keeping score) but, lately I just feel like time and life are so fleeting. I mean one minute you're pregnant and the next minute they’re two and blowing out the candles on an Elmo cake, looking both tiny and gigantic, at the same time.

And the next minute they’re slamming the door in your face and screaming at you that they hate you.

I know it’s not quite that simple or fast and a few other things come between those events, but sometimes it feels really, just brief. The whole thing. And sometimes I’m just scared.

And I don’t think it helps that it was just our little family celebrating on Sunday. There were no big crowds, no family (everyone is too far away). Don’t get me wrong, we could have invited people, we chose not to do a big party this year and really I’m OK with that, but in the moment, I don’t know, I felt a sudden pang of regret, which is silly since Ellie’s too little to care and Leo usually spends most of the time at any party we have asking to go downstairs to “play” (in the basement playroom, away from all the people and noise).

We’re going to my sister’s wedding in Oregon next month where pretty much every living family member (on my side) will be, so there’s that too. Another reason not to worry about doing a big event for the birthdays.

I just want everything to be special and perfect for my kids, which I know is totally a set-up for complete and utter disaster and failure. I should relish this time, when the kids are too little to ask for expensive gifts, when the best present of all is still the box the toy came in.

We decided to get Ellie a tricycle but didn’t want to spend a lot of money. I was so proud when I found this for $7 at garage sale.

And then we brought it home and gave it to Ellie and it is massive (next to her) and tippy and hard-edged and death-trap looking (especially when Target ran out of toddler bike helmets). And then I looked on Amazon to read more about the trike and there were 49 reviews saying things like “Run don’t walk from this Big Mistake" and "Don’t be fooled by the cutey vintage look.”

Oops.

I think it will be fine once she gets a little bigger. And Leo can definitely ride it (great, something else for them to fight about).

I know I’m just a ninny sometimes. It’s as if I find stuff to worry and fret over. Ellie had a great birthday. She was with the people who love her. She spent the day playing in the backyard, taking a long nap, eating Popsicles and barbequed turkey dogs, swimming in the kiddie pool and blowing out the candles on a gigantic Elmo cake made by a renowned pastry chef, created just for her.

What more could anybody ask for?

All. By. Myself.

Notice anything about these pictures?






There are no children in them.

That’s because I went away this weekend. Alone.

That’s right.

All. By. Myself.

I’ve never spent a night away from Ellie. She is nearly two.

I’ve never spent a night away from both kids, ever.

I received an offer I could not refuse (Don Corleone had nothing to do with it, I assure you) and also, it was time.

I left Saturday morning, cruised down the Garden State Parkway and arrived in Cape May, New Jersey around lunchtime. (Sidenote: It felt hard to leave. I kept finding reasons to stall, kept "forgetting" something. It's not that I didn't want to go, I just felt so...strange).

The trip was a stunning blur. From the beginning, when all that had to be done was to throw clothes, a toothbrush and a few books and magazines, to the middle, when the biggest decision to be made was Where to eat dinner? and Should I take the trolley tour of the historical district or the guided tour of the Physick Mansion? To the end, which had me sitting at a bar drinking a beer, eating nachos and wondering just how late I could leave while still avoiding driving in the dark (I’m not a fan).

I spent a good amount of time alone in my twenties. I lived alone for a few years. I spent six weeks touring Europe by myself when I was 25. Since I’ve had kids though, I am very rarely alone. Sure I spend five days a week “kidless” but those days often start before 5 a.m. and begin with the flurry of the morning routine: getting myself and two other people dressed, making breakfasts and lunches, attempting to leave the house in some semblance of order…then I’m commuting, then I’m sitting in an office, then I’m rushing through the streets of Freaking Midtown Manhattan to catch my bus home . Yea, so NOT alone. And what I come home to is two exhausted little people who pack the day’s tumults and frustrations into two and a half frenzied hours. I try to make the best of our time together during the week, but it's not always easy.

This weekend had me thinking about how strange it feels to be alone now, to say nothing of the Responsibilities that have become the blueprint of my life. It is bizarre to wake up when you want to, to have only yourself to get ready. Then there is the luxury of sitting in a restaurant and being able to just eat your meal, with no need for damage control or refereeing or shame about the amount of food matter or cutlery that is plummeting to the floor. There is the wonder of asking the question, What do I want to do today?

I found it remarkably easy to turn off the “Mom” in me this weekend. It is so how I define myself these days, and yet I am so much more than that. The kids have a “hum” to them, they can (obviously) not ever be ignored, even when they are playing (however momentarily) quietly, there is a need for such constant contact that in their presence I find it impossible to Ever. Finish. Anything. A thought. A project. A task. Not complaining, just saying. And also, I know it’s not always going to be this way. Still, it’s beyond refreshing to have the time to finish something, or perhaps more importantly, to do Absolutely Nothing. Which is what I did a lot of this weekend (in addition to taking historical tours, whale watching, light house visiting, window shopping and wine drinking).

I still have interests outside of the kids, yet somehow they seem to swallow up so many of my thoughts, until I am away from them, and it is scary how easily I can forget.

Sunday night I pulled into the driveway and saw Erin standing on the porch, her smiling face waiting for me on the front stoop. And later, after I regaled Erin with tales of surfing dolphins and creepy 111-year-old inns (hint: don’t take a tour of “haunted places” when the hotel you’re staying in looks like something out of The Shining), I checked on each sleeping child. Leo was passed out as he is most nights with his face in a book and snoring loudly, his fleece blanket and Elmo comforter wrapped messily around his body as though he’d had a fight with them. Next door, Ellie sighed quietly in her crib, with Baby jammed between her neck and a chubby pink cheek and Bunny tucked into the crook of her little arm. She stirred a bit as I studied her, so I dashed out of the room, not wanting to take any chances.

Tomorrow it would all start up again. The mad dash, the making of breakfasts and lunches. It was almost as if my time away never happened. But it definitely did.

The weekend was plenty. It felt good to be home.

Touching the Stone and Also, Rickrack

I’ve been feeling a little blah lately, hence the no writing. I’m not depressed, just don’t feel like I have much of interest to say. The days have been feeling kind of monotonous, kind of like there are hoops that have to be gone through, tasks to cross off a list and then the end of the day comes and there is the overwhelming feeling that it all starts up again. The laundry keeps piling, the breakfasts and lunches kept having to be made, the commute has to be tolerated, the work day has to be completed.

You know the drill.

Life.

I’m working on trying to pause and enjoy the moment. And being more patient. Instead of cleaning up the kitchen while the kids eat, sit and talk with them. Instead of rushing them into the house when we get home in the evenings, let them literally stop and smell the flowers (which they love to do and try to do every single night even when I’m trying my hardest to be a joyless, rushed grow-up). The rhododendrons in our front yard seem to minds of their own—they don’t bloom every year but for some reason they are all ablaze this year in glorious fuchsia, purple and white. How can they be denied?



So in the tradition of not letting the fact that I have not much to say never stopping me from writing...

--Discipline is hard. The kids are getting old enough to understand consequences. Does that make them listen to me? Um, no. The problem with saying If you don't stop yelling at Ellie you won't get a tortilla (yes these words actually came out of my mouth this morning) is that you actually can't give Leo the tortilla if he yells at Ellie. And then you have to deal with the consequences of Leo not getting the tortilla, which is not possible to do if anyone is expected to get to school and work on time. (And yes, Leo's new, latest favorite snack is a plain, flour tortilla). Probably not going to win an nutrition awards but also, it could be worse.

--Not even a week after I raved about Leo walking straight to the car in the morning without any mad dashes to the street, he of course, made a mad dash toward the street two mornings ago. I flew towards him, leaving poor Ellie half buckled into her car seat (totally safe I assure you, but still!) as Leo made it halfway to our neighbor's yard which is on the corner and close to the street. I SCREAMED. Nice. What must the neighbors think, I don't even want to know. God love Leo's energy and enthusiasm for life but I could REALLY do without the impulsive behavior. And the fearlessness can be frightening.

--Speaking of car seats: Ellie can pretty much climb into hers. When did that happen? She’s still almost too small to reach it but she’s darn close. With a little push on the bottom she’s able to make it. And oh you should see how proud she is. And you should hear Leo cheer for her! He really is the most enthusiastic cheerleader. I think he has a future in it.

--Ellie said “No, Leo!” yesterday. I guess she hears me say it so much that she’s picked it up. Hopefully it will help her begin to be able to defend herself better. She now repeats after me, whenever she hears it (which sadly, is a lot, more than I probably should…). On the bright side, both kids are very good about cheering the other one on for a job well done (see above, re. Ellie car seat climbing).

-I’ve mentioned before that Leo calls me “Dee-dee” (his version of Mommy). I’ve wondered if Leo’s speech/language would rub off on Ellie and so far she calls me Mommy and all the other “right” words are used, except one. Leo has always said “Day” for thanks. He says it with a sign and everything (touching his hand to his chin) I guess day does sort of sound like thanks...guess who else says “day” for “thanks” now? You got it. Oh well. At least they are both quite polite.

--This weekend I was doing puzzles with the kids and had to pick my jaw up off the floor as I watched Ellie assemble the alphabet puzzle perfectly, all the letters into their appropriate spots. I know this is just typical almost 2-year old stuff but I am aghast at how easy everything is for her. It’s almost like she’s cheating or something. I know this makes no sense but it’s just the thought that came to me as I watched her in action.

-In a similar vein, Ellie’s language trajectory continues to stun me. I say something once, ONCE and she picks it up. She can say zebra (and knows what one is). And umbrella. And garbage truck. I know, all typical stuff but for me it is completely new territory.

--We went to a fundraiser for Leo’s school on Sunday. It was held at an old Elk’s Lounge that looked straight out of 1958, no joke. There was a dance floor, a DJ playing oldies, a huge buffet, and a lot of people with Down syndrome dancing. Leo wanted nothing to do with it. Friends and teachers from Leo’s school came over to say Hello and he was the opposite of friendly. He buried his head in Erin’s neck and shot dirty looks to everyone who dared approach us. At one point, when he was sitting at the table with his arms folded on the table, his full lips in a perfect pout. I leaned over to Erin and said “People with Down syndrome are always so happy!”

I honestly think Leo is so busy and social during the week that on the weekends he prefers to be a social hermit. Sometimes I can’t blame him. I worry a little bit about something sensory going on (I kind of hate that term though, doesn’t it seem like A LOT of kids have sensory issues, Down syndrome or no?) Maybe a lot of kids just don’t like loud stuff? I think most of them grow out of it.

--I’ve been watching “In Treatment.” I’ve watched it On Demand and so far have only watched the ones about Mia and April. It’s interesting and so well written. I suppose it appeals to the voyeur in me and also, I love watching people with WORSE problems than mine. It's a little like a car wreck (can't look away) but also strangely reassuring. I am gearing up for the long swath of horrific television that summer TV is. And “Breaking Bad” (the ultimate guy show, but seriously if you are not watching this show you need to be. Don't let the violence scare you. This is one smart show that reaches far beyond its subject matter (dying chemistry teaching cooking crystal meth--yea I know, doesn't get you right away as something you could relate to does it but trust me) is almost over. Whatever will I do?

Lastly, here are two summer items I can’t stop thinking about.

This, for me.

Our kitchen, our whole downstairs really gets crazy hot in the summer (and it's not even summer yet). I suddenly have no tolerance for regular old normal, plastic fans.

And these, for Ellie. I think I got a pair every summer as a little girl.

I’d like to get Leo some sandals too. These
would be adorable on him except they wouldn't work with his orthotics. Also his stupid school makes him wear stupid closed toe shoes (how's that for pouty?).

Oh and speaking of Leo’s feet, his PT called me to inform me that his $375 orthotics don’t appear to fit him. Too small. WTH?

I called the physiatrist (I think that’s what it’s called). His response: PTs say this ALL the time. It’s a constant problem with PTs disagreeing with orthopedists and with the fitting of orthotics. Who knew. We have a follow-up with the orthopedist scheduled for a few weeks from now so we'll see.

Lastly, and perhaps most exciting of all (I definitely buried the lede, folks), Amy has a beautiful new blog! If you read me you probably already read her, but check her out if you haven't already. There's rickrack and more. Because really, you cannot go wrong with rickrack, (and also a wonderful picture of Amy and her gorgeous girls) to say nothing of the writing which will make you laugh, cry and think, probably all at the same time.

Growl

I know Leo is just being an older brother. I should be happy, thrilled even, that he appears to be smart enough to be menacing. I do think it shows true intelligence to figure out that A) one’s behavior has an affect on people or a person (in this case Ellie) and to B) carry out a plan of “attack.” I love the guy but he can be sneaky and conniving. Brilliant, actually.

Back to the “growl.” Slowly Leo has begun to realize he can “growl” at his sister and terrify the pants off of her. He roars, growls really, close to her and in her face often, and her tiny little body jumps, then comes the terrified scamper towards Mommy or Mama and the pleas for “Uppy! Uppy! Uppy.”

I know this is normal sibling stuff (or so I’m told as I have no point of reference) but it’s upsetting. It’s upsetting to see Ellie so scared and it’s upsetting that my pleas to Leo to stop go completely and utterly unheard. Time-outs? He whines and then laughs at me as he’s freed.

When I’m alone with the two of them, Leo often (to be, fair not always) does not listen to me at all. It’s obvious he’s very jealous of Ellie and who can blame him? It’s his job to be jealous of her and annoyed by her, she’s the little sister, he’s the big brother. It’s just hard, because no matter what I say or do (time-out, “treat” restriction), Leo doesn’t seem to mind at all. He keeps on growling. And Ellie keeps on reacting (she’s the perfect victim, by the way).

Not to say that Leo is pure evil and Ellie is pure innocence. She can certainly hold her own in the Annoying Little Sister Department. But still.

I just keep telling myself, it’s a phase. It’s a phase.

Last night after Erin came home from work (she had to work late) I stood at the sink washing dishes for the morning lunches and I recalled to her the particularly bad night.

Everyone was tired (including me, did I mention I have strep throat? Gah!). Leo was not at his finest and frankly, neither was I. He figured out that in addition to growling at Ellie he could also swipe the paci out of her mouth (a move that features the added bonus of sort of hitting her but also upsetting her by dislodging beloved paci). Then there was the coup de grace: as I was trying to wrangle two squirming bodies from potty time to the bath tub, Leo managed to find the plunger and toilet scrubby behind the commode and attempted a nice jab in the face with the aforementioned tools, at his sister.

“I just wish Ellie was better at defending herself,” I said to Erin. “It’s our job to make sure she feels safe in her own home. Not to mention I hate that I feel like all I do lately is yell at Leo.”

“Cheer up,” Erin said. “Pretty soon Ellie’s going to be bigger and smarter than Leo and you won’t have to worry about her so much.”

It’s sad to say, but I think it’s true. And it kind of breaks my heart.

But I it’s more than that. Erin and I talked about it a little again this morning. With Ellie’s burgeoning maturity and understanding, she’s soon going to understand Leo more and why he behaves the way he does (at least that’s my hope). She’s also going to have to learn patience and tolerance. My hunch is she might understand Leo better than any of us do..

Hands down, Leo adores Ellie. Ask him who his favorite person is and every time the answer is the same: “Ellie.” And we did not plant this answer in his head, he came up with it himself. The funny thing is, when Leo tries to show Ellie affection, be it through a hug or a kiss, she beats the door down to get away. And so in classic “if he likes you he’ll pick on you fashion,” Leo chooses to growl to get Ellie’s attention. It might not be the attention Ellie wants, but there you go.

So maybe I just need to be more patient with the growling.

Easier said than done.

A kinder, sweeter, non-growling moment. They do exist.

What to Say

Thanks for the comments on what happened at the party on Saturday night. I felt sort of blue all day Sunday about it, which might sound silly, but it was just upsetting, and weighed on my mind like an icky dream you try to forget but can’t.

I think I was also disappointed because since we’ve moved to the ‘burbs it hasn’t been that easy to connect with a community or find many easily accessible, like-minded people. It’s not that I was expecting to fall into a huge group of new awesome friends at the party (I’m not all that crazy about our neighbors, to be honest, so why would I want to be best friends with their friends?). I think I was just looking forward to the possibility of meeting some new people, and didn’t expect to end up leaving kind of abruptly, with hurt feelings.

Which brings me to my next point: I’ve got to, got to grow some thicker skin. I also have to start thinking a little more on my feet (aren’t I full of the clichés this morning). I need to not be passive about offensive or inappropriate remarks or questions. (That includes use of the word “retard” by a friend or acquaintance—thankfully, it hasn’t come up lately but I’m sure that since I’m writing this it will—I have yet to confront anyone about it despite multiple opportunities in the past). A sidenote: I love the hell out of Dan Savage but I really wish he’d stop using the “R” word.

So. Going forth, no more Mrs. Nice Girl. Like any good, well-socialized female, I know that I tend towards “making nice.” Don’t rock the boat; don’t cause conflict, never call people on their crap. I need to stop. I owe this to myself. Most of all, I owe this to Leo.

I had a sort of opportunity this morning to do something (another odd run-in though not exactly upsetting, just, well, ODD).

I was standing outside Leo’s room at the daycare, Leo at my feet, refusing to go into the room. He’s been sick (more on that in a different post) and was having an “I don’t want to go to school moment.” A newish dad (I’ve never spoken to him before-his daughter just started at the daycare about two months ago and is in the preschool room) was dropping off his daughter. He studied Leo for a moment.

“Reminds me of this autistic girl I saw on TV. You couldn’t tell there was anything wrong with her and boy could she sing! It was amazing!”

Um, OK?

Honestly I didn’t know what to say. What he said wasn’t insulting, it was just completely odd. Like, hello non sequitur! I thought about correcting him by saying that Leo didn’t have autism, or asking him, hmm, I wonder why Leo, who is laying down in the hallway not wanting to go to daycare is reminding you of a singing girl with autism?

Instead, I just “nothinged” him. That’s an old family expression when you just ignore someone you don’t want to deal with. I was tempted to say something about it to the teacher who I’m pretty sure overheard the whole, strange interaction, but I decided not to.

The old me may have smiled and tried to chat Odd Dad up.

But not the new me.

Not exactly an “educational” moment for sure, but I certainly didn’t go out of my way to be nice. For me, that’s progress. Of course, hind sight being what it is, I wish I'd handled things differently. I think I should have said something to the effect that Leo doesn't have autism, but I didn't. One more favorite cliche applies here: "Rome wasn't built in a day."

I feel that I need to add a caveat here, that it’s not that I plan on going out of my way to be snarky or rude to people who say what I deem to be inappropriate things, I just need to stop feeling like I need to make them feel comfortable. These incidents are not going to go away. If anything, as Leo gets older and is more of a presence out in the world and independent of us us, they're going to increase. I also can't help but think that as the precision and ease of prenatal testing increases and the Down syndrome community possibly (let's face it, probably) shrinks, there will also be more questions.

I also have to shed (or at the very least lose some of) the weight that Leo is the Poster Child for Down syndrome and all people who come in contact with him will form their opinions/impressions of DS based on poor Leo. He’s one little boy. And we’re one family, just doing the best we can.

We’ll see how it goes.

Down syndrome? Or Spoiled? And Because That's Not Enough, Let's Throw in Some Religion Too

Something happened over the weekend that I’m still thinking about.

First of all, about two months ago I started taking the kids to synagogue. I found a fairly friendly (we haven’t been going that long so I don’t feel quite like we belong yet, more on that below)… inclusive temple in a neighboring town. They hold a children’s service every Saturday morning and I’ve alternated taking one kid at a time as many Saturdays as possible (there are way too many doors in that room for me to handle both kids alone). I’m definitely not a religious person but I guess as I get older and with the kids, I can certainly feel myself searching for a return of some kind of faith, some semblance of community. Anyway…

A few things. Leo is, shall we say, “busy” during the children’s services. I wouldn’t characterize this as some formal ceremony where everyone is expected to stay perfectly still and silent. I mean, it’s a children’s service. It’s a bunch of kids (ages toddler to preschool) running around with plush Torahs and scarves and pom poms, singing songs and chanting prayers. You get the idea. But there are definitely moments that are meant to be more “quiet.” Where the majority of the children sit, you know, still, or on people’s laps. Except Leo, who is crawling around on the floor and pretending to be a dog. And then he is taking my purse and opening up all the pockets and unzippering all the zippers. I think he was looking for snacks (which I stupidly forgot). I grabbed my purse back from him as soon as I saw what he was doing. I feel like my description makes him sound completely out of control. But with the snacks, a part of me is like, what's with the constant snacking? Is it really necessary? Have I created snacking monsters? They seem to be hungry all.the.time.

Another side note: I’ve noticed Leo takes to dropping on all fours and barking (basically, pretending to be a dog) when introduced to group situations (birthday parties, children’s service at synagogue) at least initially. I am trying to figure out what this is about.

But back to last Saturday Leo was fascinated by the man with the guitar. He kept trying to touch the guitar, kept crawling towards the guitar case to open it. At one point the man patted him on the head. He was very patient. It made me think about how “convenient” it is that Down syndrome is so obvious, and how hard it must be for parents whose kids don’t act “right” yet have no physical signs of difference. I was doing my best to control Leo but he was really all over the place, to the point where I wondered if he was a distraction to the others. When one of the older kids (probably a four year old, actually) asked why Leo was doing what he was doing, the service leader said "he's just learning."

Regarding the forgotten snacks: Leo kept telling me he was hungry. I held out as long as I could with distractions and attempts at reason (“we’ll have lunch very soon, after the service” I know, I know, meaningless to a 4 ½ year old who developmentally is not even 4 1/2.)

And then, I caved. After the children’s service (and the adult service, which occur simultaneously) the whole congregation meets upstairs for a light lunch (bagels, salad, fruit, cookies). We were about 15-20 minutes away from the lunch and I figured it would be OK to sneak into the lunch room and take a bagel to tide Leo over, so that we could finish up the service and have lunch with the others. I held Leo’s hand and walked into the lunchroom where I spotted a child who had been in the service in the arms of her mother, eating a cookie (a cookie definitely from the lunch table, not a packed snack). When I saw this I figured we were safe, and I moved towards the bagels. I joked to one of the servers about Leo having a bagel “freak out” and would it be OK if we took one? He nodded like he could have cared less.

That’s when Nosey Man approached me and decided he needed to tell me that “We usually wait until after the service to eat.”

Now it’s obvious how I feel about this whole incident based on what I nicknamed the “gentleman” who approached us. Before I had kids I had strong opinions on “giving in” to kids, saying no, setting limits. I still feel that these things are necessary, it’s just a little different now. And with Leo, it’s a lot different. Here’s where I get confused. It’s not that Leo doesn’t understand the concept of no, because I know that he does, but he doesn’t seem to understand the concept of “not now but soon.” Maybe that is a four-year old thing and not a Down syndrome thing (I don’t want to get caught up in the blame it all on the DS). I just think that yes Leo is 4 ½ but not really. I actually don’t think Nosey Man even saw Leo, maybe if he had he would have been more sympathetic, who knows. More on Nosey Man: who was he? Did he chide the woman who gave her daughter the cookie? Was he just the congregation curmudgeon that I should blow off? I am a very sensitive person and I know this is. It’s one of my faults but I think in the grand scheme of faults it’s not a terrible one.

If you’ve read this far, thank you. What I am trying to figure out is behavior. Leo is hard to control and impossible to reason with. After I got him his (hard won) bagel, I just didn’t have it in me to go back to the service. So we left. So we missed lunch and we missed seeing the few people that I have met and started becoming friendly with and who I haven’t seen for over a month because birthday parties and various other events have meant we have not gone to synagogue. And I felt bad and sort of “stewy” in that this yucky thing had happened and I didn’t have anyone to talk to about it and so I felt like I was just stewing about it. I don’t know anyone at the synagogue well enough to feel like I can ask them, but I guess I need to just give it time. And I’m certainly not going to make it such a big thing that we won’t come back, or anything. But really, who yells at someone for eating a bagel at a synagogue? And the irony of this is, Jews love to eat!

But I do wonder about Leo’s behavior, if it’s too much. If he’s maybe not ready for the service. And it also got me thinking about one of the ironies of Down syndrome. On the one hand, I feel that it brings us together, that it draws people to us that we wouldn’t normally meet or interact with, but it also isolates us, in that it can be a deterrent, a put-off (“bad” behavior, inappropriate acting-out) or just such a giant pain-in-the-ass that it's easier to Go Home. The whole eating lunch after the service is great in theory. The adults get to socialize while the kids run around except I can't trust Leo to just "run around." He might bolt from the building and run into the parking lot.

That day at the service, Leo was acting out, acting up, couldn’t “handle it” (or maybe I was the one who couldn’t handle it) and so we left. Again, absolutely not blaming Down syndrome for all of this but I can’t think it’s not a contributing issue.

I have no answers, just questions. And some hurt feelings. And I’m annoyed at myself for being so sensitive yet I know that it’s this sensitivity that also helps me in a lot of other situations. I wish I could tie this one up in a neat blog bow, but I just can’t.

Gah.

In Which I am a Chicken, Yet Again

So I just got off the phone with our wonderful babysitter. As an aside can I just say that Erin and I have AMAZING plans for our birthdays (we are three days apart) that were just confirmed. I am dizzy with excitement. Our plans are better than my wildest dreams. More on that later, back to the babysitter.

She loves the kids. The kids adore her. She is patient with Leo and laughs off his quirks. She has four boys and so she LOVES Ellie. Whenever she needs to change her clothes and I haven't set something out in advance, it's always into the girliest, pinkest outfit from the bottom pile of Ellie's clothes (since I'm not a huge pink fan).

But from time to time, she uses the word "retarded."

And she just said it on the phone to me, describing how a friend was making fun of her for being forgetful: "He said oh you're so retarded!"

Ugh.

I don't know what my problem is. This, even after loving and vowing to steal Elizabeth's wonderfully snappy but not mean comeback: "You mean stupid. My SISTER is retarded. You mean stupid."

I act all big and bad and I'm going to educate and change the world and then right here in my own backyard I just, chicken out.

Funny, if it Wasn’t So Pathetic

This morning was definitely a moment where I should have indulged in some laughter rather than tears over the absurdity of the situation.

We all overslept (before you get too excited it was until 6:30 a.m.). Well I didn’t exactly sleep in. Ellie woke up at 5 a.m., I went to her to pat and insert pacifier and she went right back down. I sort of dozed for the next hour in the blue light of the room (I love how the snow makes everything inside brighter, even at night). Woke up with a certain little boy’s feet in my face. I knew that I should get up but decided we all deserved a little extra sleep.

I told myself not to get too cranky about being behind schedule (I did nothing the night before so there were breakfasts and lunches to be made) and I was torn about whether I should have Leo (aka Slow Eat Tiny Bit Taker) eat his breakfast at home or at daycare. With most of the deadlines finally met at work and it being Inauguration Day I was pretty sure work would be a little more casual than usual, in other words it would not be the end of the world if I took the later bus. I even fantasized about the ultimate treat: stopping at Dunkin Donuts after I dropped the kids off.

The morning preparations mostly went off pretty smoothly. I dressed Ellie in one of my favorite sort of outfits: a jean mini skirt and leggings. Leo turned off Noggin and let me help him with his coat without too much cajoling or violence. But then he bolted into the neighbor’s yard, mesmerized by the snow blower. As he did this, I was buckling Ellie into the car seat, so I left her half buckled in (safe, but still only half buckled) to retrieve Leo before he made it to the street.

There was a struggle to get Leo into his car seat (because really, why would he want to get into his car seat when he could play in the snow--you can't really blame him). There was spit up on my black wool coat from Leo who I allowed, against my better judgement, seconds on strawberry smoothie (he spit up until he was nearly three-years-old and he still does, certain things like, um, smoothie.)

I’m almost there, I chanted to myself. I’m almost there. Where’s “there?” you ask? To the bus. To work. Away from the whining. Away from the needing. I love my children. I adore them. I didn’t know I could love two people so much that it scares me, the way I love them. I crave their smell sometimes. I love the way Ellie has a little swath of dark, downy fur between her shoulder blades (sorry Ellie). I love that Leo smells like toast and I love his pudgy, soft, catcher’s mit shaped hands. But sometimes, I really need to get away from them both.

And this morning, I really, really needed a break.

Ten minutes after the snow blower/near darting into the street incident, we arrived at daycare. And five minutes later I overheard a parent chatting with the director about Monday, you know, yesterday? Martin Luther King Jr. Day? The legal holiday that I had off of work and that I just assumed (here’s where I’m an idiot as I should know by now never ever to assume ANYTHING when it relates to kids) would close the daycare, the same daycare that closes for Freaking Columbus Day. Yeah, never heard of that holiday either until I moved east.

The daycare was open yesterday.

Oh, I’m sorry. Did you not catch that?

THE DAYCARE WAS OPEN YESTERDAY.

My face grew hot. I felt rage as I listened to this overheard conversation. And of course the rage I felt could only be directed at me, because if I had just read the schedule… But still, the day off that I didn’t get rushed by me in my mind. There was a nap, a matinee of “Marley & Me” (I know, I know, corny, but I read the book and you know how much I enjoy a good cry and the sight of puppies). There was a long walk with just the poor damn dog who never ever gets walked anymore. There was some sort of organizational project that would get worked on uninterrupted, which I always seem to get myself involved in when I have a day off. I might have even mopped my movie theateresque sticky kitchen floors. Or maybe I would just lay on the couch all day watching all the DVRed shows that are bursting nearly beyond capacity.

And then of course, came the shame. The shame that I could be furious that I missed the opportunity to spend a day away from my kids.

It was probably just as well that Ellie was home yesterday as it gave her one more day to hopefully get over whatever little bug she’s been fighting (she was fine yesterday and this morning, save for the runny nose).

I think it’s the culmination of all of it. Leo not sleeping well, Leo not sleeping in his own bed, the obsession with television, the never ending calls for “Dee-Dee,” the UNBELIEVABLE (and yes, I’m screaming here) whiney phase that my daughter is in right now. And the opinions, oh my god does she have opinions. The indecision of an 18-month old—she says she wants smoothie, I make her one and no, no, she really wanted juice. Oy. As an isolated incident it doesn't sound like such a big deal. It's the cumulative affect, I assure you.

Maybe it's coming off of the recent near two week stay-at-home winter break fest. I feel like I sound supremely ungrateful right now. I am so grateful for them, I really am. But sometimes I just want to take a nap, go to a movie by myself, organize a linen closet and stare at a wall. I guess I should reread this post when I am waxing on sentimentaly about the being a stay at home mom and missing my kids.

Geez, what a downer of a post for such an exciting, momentous and long awaited day (I felt like I should have baked red white and blue cupcakes and brought them to work or something). Well, I feel better having just spouted all this. I think I just need to get it out there. And also, Erin just informed me she is sweetly bringing home free, Italian take-out from a wonderful restaurant in the city, so there's that to look forward to. Food always makes things a little better.

Edited to add: The daycare is also closed on Good Friday and it's not a religious school, it just happens to be in a church. Hmphf.

Oh Happy Day

Guess who fixed the camera situation? Turns out I had a bad card reader. It was as simple as that. Birthday party photos found and to be posted soon. As well as pictures from our New Orleans trip (I didn't take all that many fearing the camera was truly broken). So it looks like all we did was hang out at the airport, fly there and eat pizza in our hotel room. Above, the hooligans waiting for our plane in DC. Stay tuned for more.