There is always the concern that while kids are on summer vacation that they will forget everything they learned this summer. I was not going to let that happen to my little special snowflakes. They were going to go back to school filled with new knowledge. I will admit it has been a challenge to keep pushing through with teaching my gifted children this summer. Sure they protested, but I had to press forward. It is for their future, right.
Here is the knowledge that the kids will go back to school with this year:
Amber:
Spidergirl lives…in my house. Future skill, cleaning those cobwebs that I can’t reach.
Evie:
Ah, the legacy of attitude lives on. Future skill, she can shake her neck and wave her finger the next time someone tries to cut in front of me at Walmart.
Sam:
War has been playing out in my living room for days. Don’t worry the Disney Princesses have been on hand to take care of all injuries. Future skill, warfare, of course. Although, I hope he eventually learns that tanks don’t fly and dinosaurs don’t usually take part in war.
Yes, it has been a knowledge filled summer, but it has come to an end. The kids, minus Evie, will be off to school, soon, and I will learn what it is like to have a clean house for more than 5 minutes and what those people are saying on TV.
Amber is a cheerleader for her school. SHE LOVES IT! So much in fact that if you tell her it is not a sport she will argue with you until the death, at least, that is what she does with her gymnastic coach, who claims that cheerleading isn’t a sport. I would have my usual retort of let me see you flip in the air, but sadly I think he might be able to do it or could have done it in the past. Mainly, I have told Amber to stop bringing it up in gymnastics class to save us all the torture.
Setting aside the major debate of whether cheerleading is a sport or not (Psst…Amber tells me that her Cheer coach says that cheerleading is the most dangerous sport. So stick that in your pipe and smoke it.), the girls had a competition this weekend in Biloxi. And I know my kids were excited to go on an adventure. Sure it is only an hour drive and we only stayed in a moderately priced hotel and there was no chance of swimming that weekend, but to a 9 and 6 yr old it was an adventure nonetheless. Evie was just confused as to why we kept calling her Mississippi and why she couldn’t sleep sideways.
Amber loves to perform. She loved it when she was 2 yrs old and in a school play. She loved it at every dance recital since she was 3 yrs old. And now she loves it in cheerleading. I think this girl has performing in her blood and doesn’t blink twice if asked to speak in front of a large crowd. I can safely say that comes from her Daddy, because Mom would love to stay in the background and be quietly thanked on stage during the Oscars. Preferably, before God, but making the top 2 will still make me happy.
So without further ado may I present the SFX Jaguars:
It all started on that faithful New Year’s Eve night when every kid was spewing their guts all over the house while I pushed on with the New Year Cheer. We are not big Dick Clark fans, so we had chosen The Big Bang Theory, which happened to be in marathon mode, as the background noise to our chorus of vomit.
I will admit I had tried watching the show several times before and never got it. Frankly, Sheldon reminded me a little of Sam in his most annoying times. I watch TV to escape, not to relive similar events to my daily life. But it kept the kids happy while I went between cleaning vomit and making appetizers as our traditional New Year’s Eve meal. Sounds delish, doesn’t it?
That was the day we all would fall for the science hilarity that is The Big Bang Theory. Now, Amber will often break into an intimation of Mrs. Wolowitz. While Evie exclaims that Sheldon is her favorite. And, of course, we all know the words to Soft Kitty:
There have been a few things happening with Evie. Big milestones that at some point, as dramatic as it sounds, we thought she might not achieve.
As a baby Evie was pretty typical. Well, as typical as any of my babies can be. At around 4 months old she became inconsolable. Even though she is my third baby I had no idea what her problem was. She was getting fed every 2 hours like the other 2. I let her nurse until she pulled off, but she just didn’t seem happy. This could build a bit of resentment for us, moms, because we see these little beings snuggled in their blankets getting every demand met and still they are not happy. Also, not sleeping through the night could make anyone homicidal resentful. At some point, I thought that maybe she was upset that she was always stuck in her swing. Now, before you judge third baby on the floor is subject to being stepped on by older siblings and run over by the dog. So the swing was the safest place. I dragged the play yard downstairs and put her on her tummy. This lead to screaming. Ear bleeding, glass shattering, want to stab my ears with a knife screaming. The doctor’s advice, let her scream she will stop eventually. Or maybe I will just go deaf. She never stopped and back in the swing she went. At her 4 month appointment, we discovered that she had lost 13 ounces, a great achievement for most women I know; not so much for a baby. It appeared not only was my baby factory closed for good, but the milk factory had stopped production without sending a memo. So I went to Target, bought a can of formula and never looked back. Results, happy baby, happy mama, family not cowering in the corner anymore. A win-win for everyone.
We moved on with our lives until the next puzzle popped up. Evie wouldn’t put any weight on her legs. I had noticed that when ever I held her up she would fold her legs under. Strange, but not a medical emergency. Then it hit me that she never stood up like the other 2 kids. Even when babies are newborn they have some ability to plant their feet while you hold their hands. Evie never did that. I mentioned it to her doctor a few times and it was always wait and see. Finally, at 8 months old he referred me to Early Steps. She was tested and services started that summer. We never knew why she didn’t want to put weight on her legs, but we pretty much came into agreement that it was nothing physical and more a mixture of strong-willed and fear that kept her from bringing herself to new heights. We, also, would discover that she didn’t like certain movements. There is a name for it, but since she has moved on I have decided to release that file from my brain. Basically she hated swings, slides, and riding toys. The first obstacle was the Zebra that sat in our living room waiting for the next child to tear through my house at top speed. It seemed to take forever to get Evie to just stop scream and ripping at my clothes and then finally she was able to propel herself through out the house.
This one small simple step would be just the thing to get Evie and I to push further and realize that even though it looked like she was playing with her therapists it work with clear results.
Evie progressed slowly, but it all became much easier. She was more comfortable with her therapists and might even say she looked forward to them coming every Monday. We pushed on hoping and praying that one day she was going to walk. However, the months were slipping by. In the meantime we saw progress in the form of pulling and standing up.
We were all very happy. However in the back of my mind I would run through when Amber and Sam was walking and the worry never left. I kept searching for answers which was hard, because there was nothing obvious to put into Google to find out what was going on. Her therapists didn’t quite know and neither did her doctor. I would ask at her 15 month check up if there was anything he could feel that could be wrong. He said no and that if she didn’t start showing any progression toward walking he would referred me to a neurologist. Maybe Evie got a flashback to the 2 times she had blood drawn during her big weight lost at Children’s Hospital and she worked harder. Hey that wasn’t fun for either of us, sister. Or maybe her walking time was 18 months, because on one lazy Saturday evening while we all sat in the living room watching TV she would stand up and take her first steps.
That is the moment that opened the floodgates. She would start babbling after this when before she had not uttered more than a few grunts. She would sit on the towel with the OT and be dragged across the floor. Fun for your average kid, but terror inducing for Evie. She would tolerate the swing without clawing at me for dear life and screaming like we were murdering her. It just seemed that she had finally realized that being upright wasn’t so bad and moving was even better. Life was grand. And now, she is a walking, somewhat talking, very opinionated toddler that no one could ever tell needed therapy. A true Early Steps success story.
So we said good bye to the OT, started some speech therapy, since she is not quite where she should be for her age, and exploring the world around her. It will always be a mystery why she never put weight on her legs as a baby, why she didn’t crawl until she was 12 months old, and the many other milestones that she met late (according to her siblings and the charts), but she is rolling, now. I will often sit and wonder what if I never called Early Steps? And the answer is usually they just gave me the extra information and help I needed to get through this small problem. And, yes, it was a small problem. If one thing being a parent has taught me is that once one hill is conquer there is a mountain right behind it.
Why yes, I do reference old sitcoms from my childhood to make a point. The kids have no idea what I am talking about, but it makes me laugh. And to get through life with kids, you need to laugh sometimes. Or most of the time.
When we first realized that Amber wasn’t so much into the cleanliness side of life I compared her to Oscar Madison. We moved along constantly yelling reminding Amber to pick up her clothes, food, plates, cups, toys, papers, writing utensils and the other various stuff that falls from her while she is just walking around. Now, we have learned how much Amber truly loves all her junk. Hence the nickname Sanford and Son.
Amber loves her trash. It sleeps with her a night in the version of dirty tissues surrounding her. Maybe being surround by her own mucus is comforting, I don’t know. It rides with her in the car. She is constantly surrounded by plastic soda cup tops that she just couldn’t help but tear into tiny little pieces. Or the paper that just cried out to be torn up into even smaller tiny little pieces. Then there are the crumbs, that I can only think she keeps around to remind her of the lovely, yummy snacks I bring her, because she is just STARVING after school. Or maybe she is still trying for that pet rat that I keep saying no to, but she just has to have because Ron Weasley has one. Let’s not forget the leaking water bottle that left a nice size pond in the cubby spot next to her seat.
Nothing I do stops Amber from leaving her trail of trash everywhere we go. The ironic thing, though, is that she will freak whenever she sees trash on the ground, OUTSIDE. Trash on the ground in the car, in our house, in her bed, on the table, etc doesn’t phase her. Heaven forbid if there is the smallest piece of trash that has been stomped on by a million shoe bottoms, who have been God knows where, has been spit on, had bug feces on it, bug guts, etc then Amber will clutch her chest scream “I’m coming, Elizabeth!” and fall to the ground. Okay, maybe not, but she does freak and has almost run into oncoming traffic to pick up the offending trash. So maybe I have clutched my heart and screamed that “I am coming, Elizabeth!” and fell to the ground.
All this confuses me, because like I said in my last post I thought girls were sweet, nice and everything nice. Well, except for their backstabbing ways. I was prepared for Sam to be the dirty one with his snakes, bugs, slimy critters and rocks everywhere. If he is interested in any of those things they are neatly organized, categorized and cleaned to be kept for all time. You think I jest? The boy found some shells by the lake and when we got home he washed them. I would have preferred he used the sink instead of his drinking water, but still he washed them. So as a parent to my 3 lovely children I am in a constant state of confusion. I have no idea what to think about Evie, except I am bracing myself. What the hell can the third one throw at me? She hasn’t complained about the mess, so far, and Amber and her share a room. Maybe she will, finally, be my go with the flow child. Although, she is fighting when I ask her to clean up. I am doomed. I will live in the constant battle of clean vs dirty and it appears that dirty has more on it’s side than clean. All I ask is when it gets too bad to please follow the whimpers, because I would like my children to dig me out of the trash pile.
Around the time Evie turned 3 months old, I started getting concerned. You know how even newborns will firmly plant their feet on mom’s legs while mom holds the newborn’s hands? Well, Evie never did that. And when I say never. I mean NEVER. Whenever I tried to hold her up she would curl her legs under her body and there was no changing her mind. This started as a small concern, but would grow as the months went by.
Evie hated tummy time. Sure there are babies who hate tummy time, but usually they give in and learn to tolerate tummy time. Um, yeah, not Evie. She HATED tummy time. The only reason she learned to roll to one side was to get the hell off her stomach. Oh, I followed the doctor’s instruction and let her scream while she flailed her arms and legs laying on her stomach. She would get use to it, he said. She has to learn to like to be on her tummy, he said. Yeah, well my bleeding ears and guilty heart said Evie HATED being on her tummy. So as her mother, I made an executive decision. I canceled tummy time. Once you cancel tummy time many things don’t happen, like rolling, building neck muscles, building core muscles which are used for sitting and other things that my non-medical mind can’t think of right now. None of this was helped with the fact that Evie spent a lot of time in her infant seat. It might have been summer time, but we were dealing with SoHubby’s sister dying. There was much time spent by her side at the Hospice. This meant lots of stroller and car seat time for Evie, which, also, meant not a lot of time for practicing baby stuff like sitting up, rolling, beginning to crawl and all those other milestones that are taken for grant. So there laid my little cute blob.
At the 8 month mark and about the hundredth time I asked the doctor about her not bearing weight on her legs, the doctor recommended I call Early Steps. His main concern? She wasn’t eating many solids. *sigh* Whatever gets me what I need to get my baby rolling, sitting up, pulling up, crawling and, eventually walking. And yes, many thought I was off my rocker to be so concerned with Evie walking, because she was only 8 months. However, something wasn’t quite right and I needed to know if I was crazy or had a real concern. We went through the Early Steps process and, finally, we got a Special Instructor and Occupational Therapist. Both whom are wonderful, even if Evie isn’t at every session.
There hasn’t been an official diagnosis of what is wrong or lacking with Evie’s legs, but we are making progress. We did discover that Evie has a problem with certain motions. For one she hates swinging. Yes, sitting in a swing at the park sends her into a screaming fit that sends Helicopter Moms reaching for their phones to call CPS, because surely I just pinched that baby. Hey, it shocked the hell out of me, too. I had no idea what was going on, but I figured hey, she doesn’t like the swing no biggie. When the OT tried other motions with Evie, like simply sitting on a ride on toy we would get the same reaction. She told me that Evie had Gravitational Insecurity. If you are like me you just went, WTF? Well, I have been assured that this is real, even if my doctor has never heard of it, and that it can effect certain areas of life such as riding a bike, walking up and down stairs, riding in elevators, and other day to day activities.
Evie is making progress and that is making all involved very pleased. At the moment, we are not looking into any physical problems that could be causing Evie’s delay in standing, pulling up and walking. We are content with her current progress and will revisit further medical intervention if such progress stops or regresses. Right now, we are throwing parties when ever she pulls up, sits on a spinner (like a Sit and Spin), sits on the Zebra and her willing to ride that damn Zebra, even pushing herself. I continue to push through her screaming fits hoping for the bigger prize at the end and that soon this will be a small account in her non-existent baby book (HEY! I got 3 kids and a busy life, so back off.)
As I was looking for more information on the Nashville flood, I came across this video:
While the subtle jabs at us stung a bit, I understand the frustration. There are many questions, but I will leave those for the people that deserve the answers more than me. I do find it amazing that such a tragedy could occur and virtually go unnoticed, until just recently. I am just as angry about the 11, who died on the BP rig out in the Gulf. We seem to hear about the long term environmental impact, whose at fault and the money that will be spent cleaning or penalizing the offending company. What have we become where we ignore the plight of actual humans over ideology and politics? Frankly, I am more dismayed by the lack of attention to human lives than the recent major events that have taken place. We need to take a long hard look at ourselves and decide which direction we are going to take. We can’t unite, if we don’t exist.
Again, please visit Suburban Turmoil for ongoing information and heroic stories of the Nashville Flood, as well as information on donations and how you can help if you are in the area. If you can’t do that (And believe me, I understand the sick feeling that overcomes someone from this area looking at this massive flood), then pray. It is the least you could do for your fellow Americans, hell, your fellow humans.
When I was younger, living in the 80′s, I use to say certain words a lot and it use to drive my mom crazy. I never understood why Mom was so upset. I mean, like, I was just trying to, like, tell her story and, like, she would be screaming at me, like, just get to the point and, like, finish the story. Or I would squeal really loud. You know a squeal that sounded like I had just been stabbed by some psycho who had just busted into our house to kill the whole family. But, I was doing it because I was excited or happy about something. That would drive Mom over the insanity cliff and, of course, I never understood why. Now, I do. Oh that parent curse-you know the one, “I hope you grow up and have kids just like you”-is a big, hard, heartburn inducing pill to swallow.
Amber is 7 years old so she has many stories to tell and can actually hold a conversation, if you can get to the end of the story or weed through all the superficial crap and get to the point of the conversation. We hardly ever get to any of those things, because I get frustrated and Amber stands there dazed and confused. Most times I feel as if I am living with Vinnie Barbarino. Okay, that really dated me. I will ask Amber a question. A question I think is clear, concise and in English. And to make sure she can hear, even though her doctor assures me that she hears fine, I will get close to her face and speak slowly. Her response will be, “Wha? Where?”. So my solution is to get louder, because that works with people who speak another language. When that doesn’t help I think about getting a little Samuel L. Jackson on her:
Warning foul language and subject matter ahead.
Proceed at your own risk.
Of course, without the cursing, gun, threat of bodily harm, and subject matter.
But I do have to say, I totally understand the frustration.
Then I realize she is 7 years old and not sent here to destroy me or have my soul in a case that she refuses to return. So then we have a little discussion about a better way to voice that you didn’t either hear or understand the person. It is a hard road and one day I may see a light at the end of the tunnel. Sadly, I have the same problem with SoHubby. However, I have less patience with him, because he is an adult. Which means that I totally dream about going all Samuel L. Jackson on him, but I don’t because only Samuel L. Jackson can get away with, well, being Samuel L. Jackson. I am learning that this child rearing is a vicious cycle and I am caught in the middle.
Here is an exact portrayal of what happens when I decide to grab myself something to eat. It doesn’t matter if I just spent most of the day stuffing my kids face full of food, it always ends up like this:
