Jenn's Journal

What else you should know

The paperwork for preschool came in the mail a few days ago.  I've been putting it off because I can't believe they are going to school in a few months.  But I sucked it up and started on it today.  It covers the basics, health info, vaccine records, emergency contacts, who can pick them up, etc.  The last page was a little more personal, who lives in your house, what pets do you have, what do they call grandparents, what are some of their favorites, etc.

The last question was: "Please tell us anything else about your child that you would like us to know."

I thought about it in terms of what they would need to know to help them learn, what their barriers and challenges might be in school.  To help them understand them a little better.  I wrote:

Nick is very caring.  He can be very impulsive and ends up in his own little world a lot to the point of ignoring everything around him.  He is very curious.

William is a very sweet boy.  He can be overly cautious at times.  He's currently in speech therapy twice a month.  He gets frustrated if he doesn't think he's doing something "right" and might stop trying despite reassurance.  He is very independent.

But those two tiny paragraphs don't begin to cover what they need to know about my boys.  If I had about three more sheets of paper, maybe I could begin to cover it.

Both my boys are very empathetic.  They worry when the other is sad.  They make sure we know if they hear a baby cry and they look after the baby until he stops crying and declare BABY HAPPY AGAIN! with relief.  They hug and kiss each other unprompted.  William loves to give bear hugs and tell us he loves us all SOOOOOO MUCH.  Nick wants to snuggle every night before bed.  They think hugs can make anyone happy.  They want to know how the world works, but they want to figure it out for themselves.  They're rarely content with a simple answer you give them and want to know more, more, more.  Their tiny little heads hold so much more knowledge then I would think possible at this age.  Nick can count, at least to 15, maybe higher, and recognizes all his letters, shapes, colors, and knows the sounds most letters can make.  He can write a few letters and I suspect he could probably start reading sooner than you might think.  His favorite shape is an octagon, but lately he's also been partial to hexagon. 

William can count, but he skips two.  But if you ask him how many objects there are, the answer is almost always two which makes no sense.  He'll ask you to help wash his two hands or put on his two shoes and I'm sure he knows those things are really two.  But if it's a larger number, he'll say two as well though I know he knows there aren't really two.  He can't count as high as Nick, but he knows all his letters too.  He knows colors and shapes too.  He knows these things and I think it's important you know he knows these things, because you might not know that 'di-dan-da' means triangle.  Or 'oh-wah' means orange.  But if you don't know, and you can't figure it out, he may shut down and not try anymore.  He wants so badly to do it right and if he doesn't think he can, he won't do it at all.  You might catch him practicing quietly though so he can get it right next time.

I want you to know that they are very used to being together at all times.  They go wake each other up before they'll wake Dave or me, having been apart for too long overnight.  They make up silly games to play with each other.  They have a twin language thing sometimes that is both really cool and slightly creepy.  They haven't been apart more than a few hours at a time and worry about the other one when they aren't.  While Nick was getting the back of his head stitched up, he kept asking where William was.  William worries about Nick if Nick takes a longer nap than he does and wants to go check on him.  I'm worried how they'll do in separate classrooms.  If they get upset, can you let them visit each other so they know the other one is ok?  A hug and "It's ok Wee-um" or "It's ok Nay" should make everything better again. 

I want you to know that they've never been apart from me before without another family member around.  Grandparents and aunts and uncles have been their only babysitters.  People they know and love and trust.  I want you to know how so very, very much we wanted them in our lives and what we went through to get them.  I want you to know that I'm trusting you with my very heart and soul.  Please take good care of them; they mean everything to me.

It's funny! I promise!

I don't write the "Oh sorry I haven't blogged in forever" posts because it seems a little self indulgent and egotistical to me, especially when I look at my stats.  Plus I'm not exactly sorry.  It's been a bad few weeks and I've mostly kept it together until the Homeowner's Association sent a letter about alleged violations and I called to clarify and the lady was mean to me and then I totally lost it and sobbed.

It's always the little things that sneak up on you like that. It was the fact that they said the front door needed painting when I painted it just over a year ago.  Cafe on the Riviera because I remember it was such a pain in the ass to match paint to a TEAL door.  Who effing paints a door TEAL?  But are we allowed to change it?  Noooo HOA rules.  The only way I'm painting that door is if I can use neon pink and paint F U HOA on it.

Anyway.

So yesterday my mom calls me and says she has a funny story to tell me.  I had one too and she said I should go first.  We were sitting at a restaurant when I look over at Nick and he's got the front of his shirt pulled out.  He sees me looking and says, "LOOK MAMA!  LOOK AT MY BREASTS!"  "Nick, you don't have breasts."  "YOU DO MAMA!  RIGHT HERE!"  And proceeds to show everyone just where they are.  "Nick, stop.  Don't touch Mama's breasts."  "WHY NOT?"  "Because it's not appropriate."  "WHY NOT?"  "Eat your dinner."

Then I made the mistake of retelling the story to my friend within earshot of Nick today.  "DADA, WHERE ARE YOU BREASTS?"  "Daddy's don't have breasts.  Eat your lunch."  Dave said to me, "Good job teaching him that word."  "What would you rather him say?  HEY MA, CHECK OUT MY TITS!"  "Ok, good point."

So then it's my mom's turn.  My aunt is a Red Hat Lady.  Her group recently nominated her to be 'Queen Mum' of the group.  They even gave her a scepter.  She was overjoyed at this honor and was really excited to go to her first meeting as Queen Mum.  She found an over the top purple and red dress, a giant red hat, and big red hoop earrings.  She gets all done up in her getup, grabs her scepter, and runs out to meet her group at a restaurant. 

Well, she hits traffic.  And the cars are just crawling and she's getting later and later and more anxious.  She finally gets there and runs in, scepter in hand, and starts apologizing to the group of ladies.  There's only one seat left at the table and of course it's a chair on carpet against a wall and everyone has to get up to let her in.  During this spectacle, she's apologizing, "I'm so sorry I'm late.  Traffic was bad; they're redoing the road.  I'm really sorry.  I was so excited to be here and to be late on my first meeting as Queen Mum!"

And one of the ladies at the table raises and eyebrow and says, "And she's the Queen Mum to boot!"

She looks up and realizes she doesn't know a soul at the table.  She was so focused on being late and getting in that she didn't realize that this wasn't her group of Red Hat ladies.  It was a group of ladies from a Presbyterian Church.  She jumps up, again apologizing, and tries to get out but again, the carpet, the chairs, the ladies having to move.  They eventually just invited her to stay and have lunch with them, to which she replied, "Oh God, NO!" and flees.  When she got home she realized she had the wrong restaurant entirely.

I just wish I could know what those church ladies thought as she come breezing in with her purple dress, big earrings, giant red hat, scepter in hand and sits at their table claiming to be the Queen Mum.

In Stitches

There are many things you look forward to as "firsts" with your kids.  First steps, first words, etc.  They make baby books dedicated to all these wonderful first time events as the world opens up for these tiny little humans.

But there are a few firsts that don't have a place in the baby book.  First time you lose your temper with the baby.  First time you forget to buckle them in the car seat because you've been awake for probably the last 100 hours.  First time you drop your baby.  Another is the first serious injury.

Nick was standing on the chair in our living room, trying to reach the new printer we just got and I was testing by printing a few things.  I told him not to touch and and to get down several times and finally told him if he did it again, he was going to time out.  He did it again, and in one of the very, very few times I don't follow through with my threats, I did nothing but tell him not to do that again.  I went into the kitchen and hear THUNK!  WAHHHH!

Dave picks him up said he hit his head on the bookshelf.  Usually, I don't panic over falls and bumps and scrapes.  Especially with Nick because he loves to do stuff like spin around until he's so dizzy he falls over or run and pretend he's sliding into home base.  Or slide down the steps on his stomach or butt as fast as he can and make it sound like he's fell down a whole flight and given himself rug burn and then laugh.  He's impulsive and still working out that whole action/consequence thing.

But, "He hit the back of his head." followed by, "He's bleeding!" gave me a twinge of panic.  Blood should not be on the back of the head.  I looked, it was just  little trickle, so I took him and sat him on the edge of the kitchen sink to take a better look, thinking it was a little scrape.

And then the floodgates opened and blood started pouring out the back of my little boy's head.  That twinge of panic turned into a full blown surge.  I grabbed wads of paper towels and tried to put pressure on it.  He's screaming, scared, and hurt.  I knew he needed medical attention but didn't know how to get him somewhere while trying to stop the river of blood.  Finally while I was debating calling 911, I realized that by the third wad of blood soaked paper towels, the bleeding had slowed.

I yelled to Dave to call the doctor while I looked at it.  I wish I hadn't.  Now, I was a nurse.  I have watched open heart surgery from start to finish.  I have cracked a woman's rib while giving her CPR.  I've stopped doing CPR so they could open up a man's chest and lift his heart out to massage it to try to bring him back.  I have calmly pulled a curtain around me so the patient's husband didn't have to see that his wife's intestines were literally coming out of her incision.  None, none of that bothered me.  But seeing that hole, about two inches across, a quarter inch deep and gaping, in my baby's head?  That bothered me.

I knew he'd need stitches and was ready to take him to urgent care when Dave said the doctor said to bring him in.  We all got in the car, Nick in his car seat with me squished around in the backseat facing him, still clutching a mess of bloody paper towels to his head.  I ran in with him and the took us right back.  The doctor took one look and said he needed stitches.

Nick had finally settled down by this point.  The nurse asked him if he fell and he said, "I need a doctor." and just kept repeating, "I need a doctor.  I need a doctor.  I need a blue doctor."  (Blue doctor because he was wearing a blue shirt).  He didn't want to let go of me to have his head washed off and I can't blame him.  But he did.  They asked me if I thought he'd hold still and I didn't, so the doctor laid his lab coat down on the table and Nick was supposed to lie down on it, have it wrapped around him and the arms tied around him so he couldn't move that well.  Nick took one look at the coat and said, "No!  I can't wear that coat! I TOO LITTLE!" 

Eventually we got him in it and I leaned over him so he could see me (and couldn't kick anyone).  He flinched when he got the shots to numb the area and his bottom lip started quivering and my heart broke into a million pieces.  He asked me where Dada was and said, "I want talk to him."  I promised we'd see Daddy just as soon as we're done.  "Where my Weeum?"  "With Daddy, Sugar."  We talked quietly and calmly while he got his little head stitched up.  He got a sticker sheet (baseball is what he picked out...and Tinkerbelle).  He's the proud new owner of five or six stitches that should come out next Friday.

He's ok now, except when I have to change his band-aid which is stuck on his hair.  As you can imagine that's loads of fun.  Me, on the other hand, I'm a mess.  I held it together while it was all going on, but now?  I can't get the image of it out of my mind and I get sick to my stomach thinking about it. 

I don't think I'll be putting this in the baby book either.

Again

I had been planning to post when I had a few minutes about my annual check up.  You know, in my spare time which is non-existent right now.  I got the gratitude speech again.  The "be thankful you have two children" as if I can't both want more and be thankful for the ones I have.  Like I'm not thankful for them every damn day.  And no, it doesn't suck as much not to be able to have more kids as it did not knowing if we'd ever have them, but it still does suck, and how I realized we'd be getting this speech the rest of our lives. 

But.

Then my step-mother had to go to the hospital.  And now she's been diagnosed with cancer.  And all thoughts and prayers really need to go towards her right now.  Please.

Murphy's Law

It's usually not a good thing when you leave the house for a day full of fun and only half your party comes back wearing underwear.

Since Dave and I both work from home, we all spend a LOT of time in the house.  A. Lot.  Saturday is the one day we both have off at the same time and we usually try to spend it doing something fun.  Last weekend we went to the zoo despite weather reports of rain.  We soldiered on getting ready and literally the second we opened the door, it started to rain.  It let up by the time we got there.  But then we forgot the umbrella so of course it would rain.  But then Dave forgot his sunglasses so it was sure to be bright and sunny.  They cancelled each other out and it ended up being hot, humid, and overcast.  Win?

Today we had a full day planned.  It's the first day of the Farmer's Market and we went there, where being that's only the end of May, nothing is really in season.  We got a few apples and a couple of cookies.  Then we went to lunch where William kept asking to have "time out in the CAR".  He was inexplicably unhappy with our parking space and it just went down hill from there.  I tried taking him to the bathroom before we left, but he refused to go, instead narrating, loudly, while I went.  MAMA?  WHAT DOIN?  GOING PEE?  YOU ALL DONE MAMA?  YOU WIPE HIGH-HEE?

We had planned to go take them to pick strawberries.  But I called the hotline before we left and they said they nearly were out and next weekend would be better.  We still went to orchard anyway to buy some.  Lo and behold, they still were doing the pick your own, so we hopped on a tractor and drove out to the field.  Where we realized we forgot sunscreen. 

Next time I'll listen to the recording.  I now have a peck of mostly not-quite-ripe strawberries in my kitchen. 

They also have a little play area where of course we had to stop.  Finally got William to go to restroom where we had some aiming difficulties and there went the first pair of underwear.  Did I mention we forgot the diaper bag?  Yeah.  Then Nick didn't want to leave and had to be carried screaming to the car.

We took the long way to the library.  William slept for about 10 minutes; Nick not at all.  I promised Nick we'd get some juice or water out of the vending machine there, so of course they were sold out.  Nick got his first experience with a water fountain.  And that was all he wanted to do the rest of the time there. 

They played, we got our books, and got ready to checkout when Dave noticed...an aroma surrounding Nick.  I have no idea why the library has such a laxative effect on him, but this is the third time he's pooped in his pants there. 

Did I mention we forgot the diaper bag?  There goes the second pair of underwear. 

William and I checked out while Nick got cleaned up.  Then he wanted to play.  He had to be carried out screaming.  Again.  William chose the noodle route: laying down on the floor and refusing to move.

Today we were that family.  Next weekend we're planning more down time.  Or bringing 20 extra pair of underwear. 

Words hurt

When we first started debating whether or not to have William's speech re-evaluated, I was kinda on the fence.  I believed (and still do) that if we did nothing, his delay would eventually correct itself and we'd understand him more and more as he got older.  But on the other hand, if there are things we can do now to make it easier on him (like when he starts school in the fall), why not do it.  And I was fine with that too. 

When they came back with the diagnosis of atypical articulation, it made sense.  His articulation was/is atypical.  Fine, I'm ok with that.  Plus it qualified him for speech therapy.  I'm ok with that.  But then we started getting flyers from the early intervention people with words like "disability" and "disabled" and "special needs".  And I was surprised that I really wasn't ok with that. 

I never thought about that way.  It was a problem that he had that could most likely be fixed.  He wasn't disabled; we just couldn't understand what he said.  He didn't have special needs; he just needed speech therapy.  He would be fine. 

And he will be fine.  And I know that early intervention sees a wide range of kids with a wide range of needs.  And I know there's nothing wrong with having special needs or a disability, but it still made me sad.

Then he started therapy (finally) and he loves it.  He loves Miss P and so does Nick.  Nick "helps" during therapy sessions and they think she's just about the best thing ever.  Almost equal with grandparents.  She teaches him how to say words and how to move his mouth and teaches me how to teach him.  We don't spend a lot of time doing formal teaching, but it's more an ongoing thing when we can, when it comes up.  Sometimes he'll ask to do his face cards or his word sheets or sing the "apple song", but most of the time we work on things organically.

The last two weeks he's made tremendous progress.  He used to say dada for any two syllable word he couldn't pronounce.  Like his name.  Last week he called himself "Wi".  I cried a little.  He used to say ah-ah for apple.  Now it's ap-PULL.  He practices on his own and says "I DID IT!" when he knows he gets it right.  And I have to hold back a few happy tears.  He's stopped using sign language for milk and more and can now say "muc" and "mo", whereas before he wouldn't even attempt them because he couldn't come close to saying them.

It still hurts my heart to watch him struggle and have to think how to say something that comes naturally to most of us.  And my heart soars when I see how proud he is of how far he's come.

We had his transition meeting to transfer services to the public school system when he turns three.  They used words like "special education" and that hurt too.  I know what we're dealing with her is minor compared to what some parents and kids go through.  And I can now imagine how much it hurts when they hear those words and know they will keep hearing them. 

Review-Skinny Cow Ice Cream

Ok, so Operation Fitness isn't going so well.  So when a review came along for a low-fat ice cream from Skinny Cow, um, I really couldn't say no.  97% fat free.  Ice cream.  BRING IT ON. 

There were a lot of varieties in the store to choose from.  A lot.  I was surprised.  We had trouble narrowing it down, but settled on a pack of cookies and cream sandwiches and a pack of vanilla/chocolate ice cream sandwich's.  I confess, I love ice cream sandwiches.

I tried the cookies and cream first, thinking this would be my favorite.  Frankly, I was a little disappointed.  The cookie part was great; the ice cream I found bland though.  I tend to make my own ice cream (full of fat) though and blamed it on that.  The next night, I tried the chocolate.  Purely for research of course. 

The chocolate was actually pretty darn tasty.  I was expecting that low fat ice cream taste, but the chocolate actually tasted like good old regular ice cream.  It was a nice surprise.  At 150 calories, it's not a bad treat when you're looking for something sweet.

Discipline

One of the boys' favorite weekend activities is going to the library.  William has just realized there are books, that we CAN READ, there.  But otherwise they like to stick to the computer games, puzzles, and toys. 

All week they like reading the books we bring home.  We've tried to instill in them that all books need to be treated with respect, but library books especially.  For a long time, they weren't allowed to have library books in their room unsupervised.  But they've been good about treating books well and we relaxed the rule a bit.

So, of course, that means one of them destroyed a library book.  Nick says it was him, and I believe him.  I'm just not sure how to punish him?  We took all the books out of his room until he can prove he can take care of things.  We will take him to apologize to the librarian and pay for the book, but it's been a few days and I'm not sure he's going to make the connection.

Isn't there a manual for this kind of thing?

Book review- The Double-Daring Book for Girls

 I got really excited when Mel announced she was going to do a book shower for the new Double-Daring Book for Girls. I really liked the first one, and wondered what new and interesting things this one contained.  Andi and Miriam did not disappoint.  I probably got the biggest kick out of the list of Collective Nouns about Animals.  Like we all know it's a herd of buffalo or a pride of lions.  But did you know the correct term is a shiver of sharks?  A rhumba or rattlesnakes?

This is the kind of book I would have spent hours reading as a kid.  Part of Mel's plan for the book shower is that we pick an activity and challenge you do it as well.  I wanted something I could do with the boys.  For some unknown reason, I thought that activity would be the marbling paper on page 38.

It seemed easy enough, spray shaving cream in a shallow dish and smooth it out.  Drop any kind of paint, ink, dye, or food coloring on top and swirl with a straw or fork or toothpick.  Lay the paper down on the shaving cream and lightly press down until the color is absorbed.  Scrape off the excess shaving cream and rinse paper.  Let dry.

Easy right?  HAH!  Not with four little hands helping.

They had fun though and food coloring washes out...eventually.

So I challenge you do try your own paper marbling technique.  I'll give you the benefit of my experience though and give you some tips.  Don't use construction paper.  It's a bit too porous and it bleeds when you rinse it.  Use paint instead of food coloring, although if you don't use construction paper you might be able to get away with it.  Use a toothpick to do the swirls.  We used a fork and I think a toothpick would have made better patterns.  Have fun!

Just a few more hours

I've caught myself wishing for more hours in the day more and more frequently lately.  There just never seems to be enough time to get everything that needs to be done done, much less anything you actually want to do.  But I wonder if we would use those hours for more sleep, more time with the kids, more time for ourselves, or would we fill them up too and wish for even more.

I've had a real hard time balancing out life these last few weeks.  The boys are freaking adorable as always, but also growing up where they need more than a handful of toys scattered around to keep them busy.  I thought I struck a gold mine with the paint with water books.  Nick loves painting and it's one of the few activities that he'll actually sit still for and do quietly.  Painting!  With no mess!  Score!  ...Until Nick dumped the little bowl of water directly on the book.  At least it was only water.  I'm cursing ourselves for taking the house off the market.  We could be in a house with a nice yard by now with a place for them to go run around.  But I know the reality was that IF the house sold, it would be at a much lower price than we would have needed to get that house.  We'll get there, just not right now.

Work, frankly, blows.  But since I work in social media, that's pretty much all I can say about that.  Dave's job also blows right now, but in a different way.  He's just been so busy it hasn't left much time for the boys or me.  I'm trying to remember to be thankful we have jobs right now.

Even though I won't be making it to culinary school anytime soon, I've decided not to let that really stop me.  I've signed up for a food safety certification course and a course on running a small business.  I have some ideas and have been doing a lot of leg work for that, hopefully something will come of that. 

Speech therapy is going well.  William actually said some of his name the other day, Wi.  He used to say "dada" for words he couldn't pronounce and called himself dada.  So when I heard that little Wi, I cried.  He's really working hard at it, and we're working hard at it. 

Today was the first time I went to the gym in a week?  Two weeks?  I hurt my shoulder, had an MRI, but still haven't heard the results.  Any sort of working out seems to aggravate it, even jogging, and resting is the only thing that remotely helps.  But I can't stay away forever and need to suck it up and go.  I've been doing the Couch to 5K program for about three months or so I think and I'm still only on week 4.  I stayed at week 3 for a long time and now I can't seem to quite make it through week 4.  I can do the first three jogs (3 min, 5 min, 3 min) but the last 5 minute one is killing me. 

I've tried to find a little time here or there to do things I enjoy.  Saturday we all went to the zoo and the library and out to dinner and had a nice time.  The boys walked the entire zoo and didn't want to go home.  "I want see somepin else, Mama"  I got some fabric and some patterns, and even managed to cut out some of the pieces, but I just can't seem to find time to actually get the sewing machine out and see if it magically repaired itself or if I need to take it to be fixed.

This balance thing.  It's hard.  I get up at 5 am and by the time the boys go to bed, I'm ready for bed myself.  I wish I had just a few more hours.  I have a feeling though, it would never be enough.