Ryan is watching me wrap Cory’s Birthday present. It’s a bunch of shirts in a box. Exciting, truly.
Ry: “What’s that?”
Me: “Daddy’s Birthday present.”
Ry: “That’s not a present. You’re not telling the truth.”
Me: “What do you mean? He asked me for shirts for his Birthday. He’ll like this.”
Ry: “No he won’t! A present is something like a machine that moves and makes noise!”
“Looking good – Miss Alexa is in the 50th percentile for height and she’s still a petite little thing – just at the 10th percentile for weight.”
I smile internally. Enjoy it now, kid. If you’re part of this family, you won’t be a string bean for long… Even so, I want to make sure she’s healthy – of course.
“Is she too skinny? Should I be giving her more fattening foods?” I ask the doc.
“No, she’s growing right along the same curve since birth. She was a little ‘heavier’ as a baby – if you call the 20th percentile heavier – but she’s thinning out. She’s not too skinny, I can tell by looking at her that she’s just really busy.”
Okay, busy works. Then I watch as the doctor goes through the questions/concerns paper that I’ve filled out. Over the past 15 months, I’ve circled “no” for everything. This time I circled “a little” under one question.
“I see you’re a little concerned about Alexa’s speech. Tell me your concerns – does she have words?”
This conversation is one I’ve both been anxiously awaiting and slightly dreading. I honestly was ‘a little’ concerned, trying to be more laid back with the second child about everything. No books, no charts, no milestone checking. But as of a month ago, people started asking me about certain speech milestones and I started to worry if she was behind. Which snowballed from behind into thoughts of something more serious, even though deep down I know she’s fine. I can’t just have a little worry about anything, I start thinking the worst. It’s just how I am.
I take a deep breath and begin. ”Well, she says “HI!” quite enthusiastically when people come into the room, and she has full-on babble conversations all day long, pretending to be on the phone, talking to her toys, pointing to everything. She uses objects with purpose, tries to wear everyone’s shoes… understands no and shakes her head… She says “YAY!” and claps and dances when music comes on…”
I can tell I’m talking a bit too much, delaying the inevitable.
The doctor smiles. “Does she say ‘Mama’ and ‘Dada’ with purpose? Can she name an object or a part of her body?”
“Ummmm, no. No, she doesn’t. We’re actually working on her pointing to her nose but she points to her eye instead. She gives eye contact and shows love and is really engaged. She’s not on the path to autism, is she?”
The doctor senses my worry. “No, she’s really engaged and she comprehends simple commands. She is going to be just fine, don’t even think about autism – she is clearly not autistic. She is just showing a slight delay with speech. You can’t even call it a delay for a couple more months. It’s just on average, most children are doing the Mama/Dada thing and maybe a word or two more.”
She tells me that the first step would be a hearing test, although I explain that we’ve done our own hearing tests at home by calling her from another room and whispering from behind her. The doctor agrees that it’s probably fine, but always good to rule it out. She recommends we wait until 17 months and then call her with any progress before doing the hearing test. We might be surprised that the words start coming fast and furious. Then, if nothing is happening, we’ll look into the hearing test and then potentially getting her evaluated.
I know dozens of children with speech delays, autism, Aspergers, and various learning disabilities. The thought of having her evaluated doesn’t scare me, but I guess what scares me is thinking something is seriously wrong and that turns into thoughts of she’ll have a difficult time making friends, she’ll be teased, she’ll have a hard life. Even though I am pretty confident she’ll talk eventually, it’s just the not knowing. Like my friends who had late walkers. If we had the hindsight of knowing things would happen later rather than never, we could relax a little.
I ask my speech pathologist friend in our MyGym class today why I now can’t stop thinking about this. I confide that I just worry that she’ll never talk. She looks at me and makes me feel immediately better with one quick diagnosis – she says that 15 months is too early to worry this much and that of all the kids she’s worked with, they all talk, just late. I’d know if something was seriously wrong.
Oh. This hasn’t even crossed my mind in this cloud of worry. She will probably talk, just late. I can deal with late. Maybe I should lay off the worries about her not having a normal life for a bit. It’s just hard. All sanity kind of disappears when it’s your kid. Imagine how I’d be if she had a serious medical problem. I am embarrassed to admit that it’s crossed my mind that this is all my fault because I was on medication during my pregnancy with her. This parenting thing is rough, man.
To be continued…
_________________________
Ryan licks both hands and then goes to hug me.
“Ugh, gross Ry! Please don’t lick your hands and then touch me.”
“I didn’t lick my hands.”
“Yes, you did. You don’t even realize it. You constantly put your fingers in your mouth and you’re picking up germs – you’re going to get sick. This is why you have that red mark on your face. Please try and stop.”
the aforementioned red mark (which doesn't quite take away from his cuteness)
“I can’t help it – my brain tells me to do it. My fingers need to be wet to be soft.”
There goes my 3 week attempt at not mentioning his finger-licking tic. I tried so hard, but I fell off the wagon. I know some kids have compulsions and transient tics at this age. In the past couple of months since this started, I’ve talked to lots of people and hopefully it passes, or he learns to control it… or it will turn into something else and eventually, hopefully subside. I’ve had people tell me they blink their eyes, put their hand to their mouth, rub their arm, twirl their hair (me included), and other lovely things. It’s the same worry – that he will look different, act different, be different and people will make fun of him. Life is tough enough without your peers constantly asking why you thrust your fingers into your mouth all day quick as a jackhammer.
no finger licking while bungee jumping!
My job is just to make sure that they don’t pick up on my worry. Because that will make it worse. Although I seem like a maniac at the moment writing about this, I really try not to mention anything around him and tell others not to acknowledge it, either.
Still, my mind won’t turn off at night before bed – tic, talk. Tic, talk. Tic, talk…
Cory had just finished playing a game with Ryan and started putting his pajamas on. I was hanging Ryan’s clean laundry in the closet.
“Daddy, I like Mommy better than you because she plays with me more and stays home with me.”
Mind you, neither of us was shocked, as Ryan had been saying things like this for weeks. He even said this particular sentence to Cory last night when they were alone during bedtime and I was out with some friends.
The truth is that as Ryan has become increasingly aware about his immediate world and how it works, he has become increasingly angry with Cory. Although he is surely entitled to his feelings, we wish he would understand more fully why Daddy goes to work, why he sometimes isn’t home for bedtime due to a work dinner or travel but that he has the most involved and wonderful Daddy that a kid could wish for.
And he knows it. As angry as he is with Cory, he is also becoming more attached to him. He sometimes asks how many days until the weekend so that he can have “lots of Daddy time” and he is proud to have the Daddy that plays Monster/Tag/Water Balloons with him and his friends at parties while the rest of us just want to sit and relax.
Cory felt so guilty earlier this month when Ryan kept asking about the weekend that he changed a Saturday overnight in Atlantic City with friends before a Sunday baseball game to a day trip so that he could spend the day with Ryan. He took Ryan to the batting cage that day…
I understand why Cory feels guilty, although I hate it because it’s undeserved. And I know that he’s only four, but I wish Ryan understood how lucky he is to have a really involved Dad.
Meanwhile, Alexa makes up for (some) of it by shrieking her head off when Cory comes home, practically sprinting to the door and smacking his face with sloppy kisses as she’s scooped into his arms.
Now that I think of it, maybe we shouldn’t focus on Ryan so much. He’ll understand eventually, but a little girl with Daddy issues could make me a Grandma at 45.
Off to talk to Cory about holding off on work dinners for the next 5 years…
You know these family car windshield decals? Am I odd for not “getting” it?
I saw one today with a woman flanked by 7 cats. Why??? I’m pretty sure she can’t see out the back of her car.
I also dislike cats.
I guess if they had a female figure holding an alcoholic beverage and laying at the pool along with two individual children sleeping, I’d buy that.
Oh, and a male figure fanning the female figure.
Ryan's 1st Day of Camp
I sat down with my Dad the other day and asked him to recall his childhood memories. Specifically, the ones that involved his Mom and Dad.
I was fresh off of leading a marching band, which came after the construction of a Mega Bloks castle, which happened just after the gluing, painting and stickering of a make-your-own wooden race car. (Mind you, I don’t usually participate in multiple fabulous things all day long, but it was a Sunday morning. Cory got to sleep in. And it was raining.)
Back to my Dad. I wanted to know about his parents’ role in terms of playing with him because honestly, yes, I signed up for stay-at-home-Momdom. And it’s still my choice. But sometimes I feel like shouting “Can you please go play by yourself for a little while? Mommy wants to (insert basically ANYTHING here).”
I pretty much already knew what my Dad was going to say. It was a different world in the 50′s. Kids were free to ride bikes alone in the neighborhood and run around with kids from the block. Doors weren’t locked. There was some overarching trust in humanity. Helicopter parenting was non-existent.
Me: “Did your Mom sit down on the floor with you and play?”
Dad: “Well, I won’t say never, but no. She worked at our family’s restaurant downstairs, so I knew she was always there if I needed her. I remember my Mom always being there for me when I was growing up. But no, I played with my friends in the neighborhood or found things to do by myself and I was perfectly fine.”
Me: “Your Dad?”
Dad: “No, when my Dad got home, my Mom told my sister and I to let him be alone so he could relax and unwind. I have good memories of going to ballgames with my Dad, but no, he definitely wasn’t one of my playmates. He was my Father.”
Me: “So basically, you survived childhood and went on to lead a normal life without your Mother being your main source of entertainment?”
I know, poor me. I’ve had jobs where I was stuck inside all day in a cubicle and now I get to play all day with my kids and I’m complaining. Ryan is going to camp even longer than ever this year, so I only have 4 hours a day with him! But it’s not that I dislike playing with the kids. I actually enjoy it. It’s that I don’t get how the role of a parent has changed so much or why I can’t seem to find a balance like I did when I only had Ryan. Maybe I just miss having that one day a week all to myself, which I had for two years with Ryan. I was spoiled and now I can’t seem to forget how great that felt now that it’s in the rearview mirror.
Sure, it’s great that parents are so active in their kids’ lives. I love knowing that my kids will (hopefully) have great memories of Mom and Dad doing all kinds of special things with them. I just feel like so many parents are burnt out, tired and stressed because not only do they have to do everything that parenting entails, but they feel they have to be their child’s main source of amusement or else there is a tremendous amount of guilt attached. This is partially why I want to have a large family- built-in playmates.
Me: “So if you sat in front of the TV for a little bit while your Mom read the paper or you played alone in the living room while she did something around the house, you didn’t feel neglected or ignored, right?”
I asked my friends about my feelings of guilt. They turned my question back onto me. Who is judging you and saying you’re a neglectful parent or making you feel guilty if you do something or just want to do something for yourself? YOU.
They’re right. It’s like I’m looking for permission from the parental universe to leave the kids alone in the same room as me without engaging them every minute, which I began doing anyway since Alexa was born. I know I’m not doing my kids any favors by commenting on every single thing they do and not allowing them to use their own imagination. I’m looking for permission from the 50′s. From all the wrong places. From my therapist. From you. I just need to give myself permission and be at peace with it. It’s never going to be perfect. My parenting is forever a work in progress.
I’ve been trying hard to step back, to allow them to just be kids and play sometimes. It’s healthy for all of us. But they want me involved in their play. And I feel awful whenever I turn and do something else.
I don’t know the right answer.
Do you feel guilty as a parent or have you struck a comfortable balance? Do you feel judged or are you judging from within? I’m kind of floating somewhere at the moment – caught between a few different places and not quite settled…
Pediatrician: Well, Miss Alexa. Your ears and throat are good, so that’s not the cause of your constant night-waking and clingy behavior. Here’s what I can tell you – although you only have 7 teeth, all 4 of your molars are currently coming through.
Me: (out loud): My poor baby!! She must be in such pain.
Me: (internally): CRAP! My life is over.
Today was Visiting Day at camp. What I would do to be a camper again. We only get one childhood, but man, it would be great to do it over again in order to REALLY appreciate it. A million “firsts” lie ahead for Ryan – happy for him but insanely jealous!
Photo Credit: Kelle Hampton
Everyone comes into this world with their own story.
Some believe we write our stories as we journey through life, our decisions creating unique twists and turns.
Some believe our stories were written for us by someone or something larger than ourselves.
Kelle Hampton is just one woman who is not unlike someone you may know. Blessed with good looks, she has a husband, children, a talent for taking breathtaking photographs and writing about the wonders of life in her blog, Enjoying the Small Things.
Like you and me, she has a story. It is not the first story of its kind. But what makes her story so remarkable is that she wrote about it. One defining event written in raw, honest detail. To share with others how life sometimes throws a wrench in our plans, forces us to change the way we think, to challenge us in ways we could never imagine.
I have so many things I want to say about her story but most of all, I want YOU to read it. So sit back (with a box of tissues) and allow Kelle to take you on her incredible personal journey – the birth story of her second daughter, Nella Cordelia:
http://www.kellehampton.com/2010/01/nella-cordelia-birth-story.html
Hi everyone. I hope you all had a wonderful 4th of July weekend!
I figure better to post about something other than the Casey Anthony verdict because I’m having trouble with that one tonight…
So… I’ve met a few people recently who ooh-ed and aah-ed over some products I use for the kids, so I wanted to share these with you. Hopefully, one (or more) of them can help you in some way.
1. Stearns Puddle Jumpers
These life jackets are Type V US Coast Guard Approved and although the company makes clear that this product is not a lifesaving device, I have never felt more safe with my kids in the water. These cute, fun-to-wear jackets provide easy range of motion for kids and keep their heads above the water. Although I am always in close range, I know that Ryan can swim freely and safely without having to hold him. Now that’s what I call a lifesaver!
Puddle Jumpers can be found in Target, Walmart, on Amazon.com and direct from the website at http://www.stearnsflotation.com/Kids-Life-Jackets-C26.aspx.
2. Tiny Bites Food Shears
Concerned over safe consumption size of food for older infants and toddlers, New York parents Ed and Anila Nitekman designed and created the award-winning Tiny Bites Food Shears. They allow parents to safely and easily cut their child’s food into small pieces, quickly turning any food into perfect “finger foods”, bite-sized pieces, easy-to-eat strips, fun shapes or sizes. Tiny Bites Food Shears is a proud “Winner of The National Parenting Centers – Seal of Approval – 2010″ and “Winner of The Mom’s Choice Awards – 2010″. I never thought I needed these, but if you’ve ever tried to cut pizza for your whining kid with a knife and fork, cut grapes, or make a bagel bite-sized without sacrificing the cream cheese, this product is for you!
Tiny Bites come in a package of two – one for home, one for the diaper bag. They are BPA-free, dishwasher safe and come with a protective blade cover. Tiny Bites can be found at Buy Buy Baby, Babies R Us and direct from their website at http://www.tinybites.com/.
3. Munchkin Snack Catchers
No more Cheerios all over the car seat. Well, kind of. Alexa manages to make a mess anyway, but less of a mess than if I gave her a Ziploc bag full of snacks. The snack catcher keeps bite-sized foods inside the domed container until little grubby fingers pick them out.
You can find the Snack Catcher at Toys R Us, Bed Bath & Beyond, Amazon.com, Toys R Us, Diapers.com, Drugstore.com and direct from Munchkin’s website at http://www.munchkin.com/products/detail.html?pID=905.
Some other notables:
Any other products you thought you didn’t need but it ended up as a have-to-have-it? Please share!
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