Still here

Heyyyy, folks. I figure that now that I'm pursuing a more writing-based career, I should really...write. There's just so much that has gone on, but I'll try to recap the big events since April:

• 6th wedding anniversary for DH and me
• J turned TWO at the end of June and I still can barely handle it
• On August 28, in the morning, J got tubes in his ears because it turns out that the grandparents' suggestion of actually getting an ENT to look at them proved vastly important because...he needed tubes
• On that same day, in the afternoon, my former employer let me go. Quite the day, although T pointed out that he'd rather J had a good day and I had a bad one, and I couldn't disagree
• Almost immediately after the surgery, J had a major language explosion. Roosters that formerly said "dat-dee-dooo!" now say "cock-a-doooo!" or even "cock-a-do-doooo!" Funny enough, we parents miss the first one, although we're ecstatic that he's come so far. He speaks more in full sentences and knows how to ask for things properly, although he'll still try, "Milk? Milk? Milk" on repeat.
• He also now has glasses and they look pretty cute, plus he realizes they help him see, and it's en entirely new world.
• I've started to look once again at my career path and where it will take me

That last part has remained pretty daunting for so many (obvious) reasons. As of January 1, we have to find money to pay for day care ($1000/mo) and health care -- I have supported Obama thus far, but from what we've gleaned for ourselves, "affordable care," my ass. It's all very real and very frightening. I'm fortunate to have a few nibbles as of late, and I'm hopeful that if I keep plugging and networking, something will come up. Never have I realized so fully that I'm simultaneously the master of my own destiny and at the mercy of other people: Nobody's going to give me a handout -- although we have had tremendous generosity thrown our way -- I need to reach out to anybody who can help and keep up my skills and learn new ones. Maybe I'll end up somewhere different than I had expected, but so many of us take only one path in life, that it's a bit exciting, even while it's frightening.

And I know I can do it.

Proud

I apologize for the unintentional hiatus--my friend Rachel sent me a sweet message asking how I was doing and mentioned I hadn't updated the ol' blog in a while, and I thought I'd get on it. It actually coincided with a recent thought that I, indeed, had something I felt like blogging about. Life has moved at a rather hectic pace lately, and I just didn't feel inspired/like I had the time to update, but I realized I have some very worthwhile points to throw out to my readers.

Pride has so many layers. Religion/society/your mother/yourself all tell you not to be prideful in terms of boasting. It goeth before a fall and all that. I think that's mostly with tooting your own horn--and if you've done something that's truly terrific and worthwhile, toot away. That's the other side of the coin: Pride gets such a bad rap that too many of us duck our heads and stay quiet about our accomplishments. Today I want to gush about my boys because I think they deserve it. I'm going to play the role of proud wife and mama.

To start, T has done so much, so well over the last seven months. From when his Transitions Life System program started in September, he's lost almost 90lbs. He looks fantastic and feels even better. Thank goodness for consignment shops--we have an entire wardrobe's worth of clothes to give them, and he's found some great pieces that actually fit right since his old clothes practically fall off. From that he's gained health and a self-confidence that I always knew hid somewhere inside him, waiting for the right catalyst to come forward. I find it so gratifying when T looks at himself with this expression of pleased awe; as he told me recently, he still doesn't recognize his own reflection. But he will because this is who he is. He's even signed us up for a 5K in June, something neither of us has done on foot (as opposed to a rowing machine, which is where we did most of them) in a loooooong time. I see a new light in his eyes, and I'm just so proud I could burst.

Now onto Mr. J. Sure, parents sing their kids' praises, but I truly do think J has earned them even with my significant bias. In February he had a major speech therapist diagnosis where it came out that his expressive (spoken) speech indicated a "moderate" delay (he was behind by about five months), but his receptive (understood) speech was actually ahead for his age, which told us that he understood plenty but just didn't say much. Had it been the other way around, we would have had cause for worry. He works with a speech therapist at day care twice a week, and he's made significant progress--even the therapist said so, so it's not just Mommy projecting her hopes. He's reached that stage where if one us points to something and ask him to repeat it, most of the time he'll try...and most of the time he'll come out with something recognizable as what we said. I never thought the word "waffle" could give me such excitement.

Yesterday also gave me a big reminder of how far J has come: Another boy in his class, P, on his second day there, had the sudden realization that yes, he was going to be in this new place ALL DAY and Mommy and Daddy weren't coming for him. First day was fun; second day was the reality check, poor guy. When I came in, I saw the little guy sobbing in the teacher's arms, wailing for "mama," and it reminded me of J's extremely rough transition to day care. We had two weeks where he'd cry for almost half the day and freak out when other kids touched him. Now when I drop him off, he barely has time to say "bye-bye" because he's busy with his toys or the books or his buddies. I wanted to call the parents up and assure them that their little P would make the adjustment. While of course I have that part of me that feels bad that I can't be with him, he truly has flourished from spending so much time with other kids and his teachers. Again, my heart fills with pride.

So I think I've successfully acted as cheerleader for my boys.  I've supported them and done what I could from my end, but ultimately they've done all the work.

Patience

I try. I try to have patience. Most of the time, I do. When I taught, my phrase was that I needed about eight oceans of patience to deal with the students and all that went with them. Now I have my own child, and he's the dearest darling of my heart. He is smiley and gives hugs and sturdy and climbs all over everything. He shrieks with laughter at the dog and when we tickle him.

I just wish he could tell us some of that.

I feel selfish and terrible for even writing this. He could have so many other problems that I don't even dare *think* about, and I know that every child progresses at his own rate. I *know* in my heart that with guidance and time, he will form words and one day T and I will look at each other in wonder and say, "God, remember when he didn't say anything? Now he won't stop talking!"

But I get scared. And frustrated. And impatient. He's learning sign language, so that's been HUGE. Currently he only knows the one, but "more" covers an awful lot of territory. It gets hard on some days to focus on what he *can* do rather than what he *can't* because the latter include things we've been waiting for and seeing other kids do. We don't always concentrate on the former enough.

I feel as though we should play with him more, that if we find the right combination of toys and gestures, maybe something will connect. That's it, though, really, keep trying different methods until he makes that leap (baby step?) in his little mind. And then the questions: *Are* we doing enough? Should we do something different? More? Should he have more therapy? Should we just relax, considering we've heard all sorts of stories about kids not talking for a while and then suddenly coming out with full sentences? How long will this lack of words go on? Is he OK????

We'll just keep doing a little, every day, and I will work my hardest at not letting the what-ifs and the uncertainty get to me. I, unfortunately, can be a champion worrier; combine that with my first-time motherhood and the overpowering love I have for this child and my feeling that I would do anything to help him, and...yikes.

So I will say the Serenity Prayer more often and do what I can from my end, and I'll wait for J to be ready. That's really all I can do. And I'll remind myself that it's enough.

Baby Steps

Last week, J began speech therapy. I've mentioned things a bit before, but the long and short is that he's almost 17 months old and really doesn't say any real words. He sort of says "mama" and "dada", and he makes repetitive noises ("babababababa", etc.). He understands quite a bit, but those actual words have yet to really form. So we had him evaluated, and the conclusion came out that he has some delays and would benefit from some extra help. Last week he met with his two therapists (one every other week so he has someone working with him once a week), and he responded to them very well, even hugging the one at the end of the session. He just knows people come to play with him; he doesn't realize he's getting help with his speaking. My mom also sat in on the one session: He has to meet his ladies at day care, so we don't get to see what they do, unfortunately (we trade notebook entries back and forth), so it was terrific for mom to observe and take copious notes. We have a little "homework" to work on with him, mainly repetition of just a few words and signing.

Well, two days ago at dinner, I repeated the word "more" numerous times and did the sign for it before I would give him more mac & cheese (always helps to use a much-desired food!). I showed him what to do and put his own little hands together to make the "more" sign. Lo and behold, he did it himself and after a brief explosion of delight on my end, I passed out the desired mac. He seemed to begin to comprehend the connection, but I figured it would come slowly. Next morning, before he even came downstairs, he began signing "more" to T for his morning Cheerios! The kid has picked up the sign with a vengeance.

This makes me so incredibly happy--he's realizing he can communicate with us to get what he wants. The words will come (we still say "more" about a zillion times when we sign and talk to him) next and when he's ready, with a little help. J may not take the "usual" trajectory of talking that other kids do, but he's making progress a day at a time, going at his own pace, and, again during this holiday season, I am so utterly thankful.

Oh, and he knows where his tummy is: Just ask, and he'll yank up his shirt and slap his round little toddler gut. It's the best.

First Week

Made it through, and I truly like what I'm doing. I work with creative, dedicated, passionate people, and while I don't have 26 students whipping into my classroom every 42 minutes, it still has that same pace sometimes, which I realized I actually missed. I do much better with stricter deadlines, so even the fact that I missed out on birthday cake today (which I wouldn't have eaten anyway) because I had to get something proofed by 3pm didn't bother me; I appreciate the fact that my input is needed and valued. This weekend and morning I helped on a major project as well--it felt great. I feel so grateful that I found a job that fits me, and that I managed to hold out and not settle for a position just to have one. I'm also getting used to the different ages--I got used to working with people primarily my age and older, and in this field, I work with (and for) people young enough that I could have taught them. However, at this point that really doesn't matter, and they all know more about this business than I do, so I'm perfectly willing to have them teach me and have the shoe on the other foot. Really, it's a mix of age ranges when I look at it, and everyone here has that same combination of passion, dedication, and a fun spirit, a great fit for someone like me. Plus I feel like I just got out of college again, considering I'm in a new career and learning the ropes every day, which I find invigorating. It's pretty amazing to function as part of a team that helps determine just how the public receives certain businesses' messages...so much goes into this that I never even considered. I love learning about all of it. Plus I have business cards--I'm legit. 

It's taken some adjusting with the new schedule, but we've made it work so far. J has had a few late days at "school", as I call it with him (he learns so much; I'd call that education), but thanks to helpful grandparents, a compromising husband, and an understanding office/Internet capability (if I have to leave early and get work done), I think we'll manage. He finally has settled in and seems to enjoy playing with his friends and his care providers, so that makes T and me happy beyond what we can express. Plus he gets his speech therapy and OT (more on that later) there, so we have our bases covered.

So life has changed for the Frau family, for the better, I believe. Any change brings a little chaos, but I know we'll make it work for us, just as we always have. In the meantime, the boy is happy and learning every day, the husband and I continue to kick butt on our eating plan, and I've rediscovered the beauty of downtown--we have some amazing architecture here that I now get to view every day. Sixteen months after the initial wrench in the works, and we've come out stronger than before. What a long list of things I get to be thankful for on Thursday.

Bringing Up Bebe-- my thoughts

Just finished the book Bringing Up Bebe on the recommendation of Scarlet Lily, and I must say, I found it pretty eye-opening. It's not that I think One Best Way exists to raise a child; it seems foolhardy to think that way. However, I do agree that we as Americans have adopted a rather stifling way of over-parenting, being there at every turn, cushioning every surface, holding the kid's hand literally and figuratively for way, way too long. As a former teacher I saw it all the time, and I hear more and more stories of parents calling up college professors and job interviewers demanding to know why certain decisions were made and defending their children's actions. As new parents, we know we make mistakes, but we try to present a united front and not get too caught up in developmental milestones and what J "should be" doing, although, as I wrote before, we're a bit concerned about the lack of speech at his age. But we're getting him checked out and we'll see where that goes, so we feel much more even-keeled.

This book made me focus more on a few points, particularly the idea of having a few hard-and-fast, core rules but freedom within those rules. I also like the idea of using a very firm tone of voice instead of yelling--if you say something with conviction and zero doubt, the kid will learn that you mean business. She points out that in France, the magic words include "hello" and "good-bye", not simply "thank you" and "please", because simply saying that to a person acknowledges that person's humanity. I truly like the idea of that, that we recognize each other no matter whether it's the waitress at the greasy spoon or an adult walking into the room for the first time. Those small gestures go a long way.

Most interesting for me was the chapter on food and eating. According to Druckerman, the French encourage their babies to eat vegetables first instead of bland rice cereal, and they keep feeding those veggies and mix them up with other food. I took from it that children are encouraged to develop their palates with fresh and varied food. Feed the child what you eat, as long as it's applicable. If a kid won't eat a vegetable, try it again later in a different form or add it to something else. Eventually, he'll learn to like it (or at least eat it). I've tried to start this even before I read the book; I realized I had begun to take on the role of short-order cook for J and, while I do give him the Kosher all-beef hot dogs, they're still hot dogs. That's part of what T and I want to accomplish with this Transitions eating plan--we want to create a house where J gets good, unprocessed food as often as possible with not a ton of sweets; eat the latter at a party or a special occasion. Sure, he's going to get his fair share of junk, but not at our house and not with us whenever possible. I don't know if I'll start turning out four-course meals that the French regularly do, but hey, if the first course is vegetables that I give him while I prep the rest, and then some fruit or cheese for dessert, doesn't that sound reasonable? It does to me (as does the idea of an afternoon snack of crusty bread with good, dark chocolate).

I think I enjoyed this book because it put a lot of my nebulous ideas of parenting in a form that made sense to me. None of us is perfect as a parent, nor is any system. And, really, as long as we stay consistent, let J explore and fall sometimes (in the literal and metaphorical sense), give him lots of love and reasonable boundaries, and don't overburden him with activities or expectations, I think we'll all turn out fine.

OK, round two. Last weekend we went to a pumpkin farm with my sister M, her husband C, and their darling daughter, C. We took them for the two main reasons you take toddlers to a pumpkin farm: 1) to buy pumpkins, and 2) to take tons of pictures because, really, who could resist?

                                                  Answer? Nobody. 

 

That's not distorted perspective: the place had gigantic pumpkins the size of small car tires. We loved seeing the kids examine them.

 

C adores J and won't stop hugging him. As you can see, he's not quite as enamored. Perhaps it has to do with her rather aggressive hugs, which still knock him over.

 

This picture may seem a bit unfair to J, but it's only because we know that one day he'll either hug back or finally get bigger and defend himself against her loving embrace.

 

The farm had white pumpkins called "ghost pumpkins"--I'd never seen that before. Very nice contrast to the bright orange of the others.

 

I just love the haphazard shapes and varied colors of little gourds. 

 

 

Happy fall family!

In other news, we're finally getting J tested for his speech, or lack thereof. He's a bit behind as compared to others his age, and he doesn't point very much, which I've found out also correlates to talking because it's a form of communication. After speaking to Feather Nester (she has expertise in this area) about it, we decided to get Early Intervention involved. Either they'll tell us to relax and see where he is at 18 months or they'll suggest something more to do, either one of which works for T and me. We just need some guidance. If it turns out we've made a First-Time Parenting Freak-out Move, that's fine, too. We just want to make sure J can communicate with us and others. He seems to understand quite a bit, so that makes us wonder if it's that he can talk but won't, for whatever reason. Mercifully, because we live in the school district, everything is free and they're very accommodating. I'll keep you posted. In the meantime, he seems to be settling in to day care, slowly but surely, and he's getting molars and growing and just a happy guy, which is all we want.

New directions

Interesting...started a new job today and realized just how much I moved around as a teacher--always crowds of people, always on the go, moving, moving, moving. I feel so grateful to have employment again, but I also miss the pace a bit. I've done the office gig before, but it's been so long that I'd forgotten the solo-ness that can occur. Granted, I'm one of two proofreaders and they have to have enough work to go around. I also have an inkling that this job consists of feast or famine--even today I had a piece I had to look over within a certain time frame because someone else needed it by a certain time. I think I just expected something different, more steady. It probably sounds like I'm complaining, and I don't mean to. One's expectations don't always meet the reality. The people I've met so far seem nice and helpful, which certainly doesn't always happen. Plus this may well lead to something more, and it's always good to say to a future (full-time!) employer, "I'm currently working at X" instead of saying I'm unemployed. 

Our daily morning walk takes us past the high school where I used to work--it's convenient and safe, especially considering we take the walk right at a time of high traffic as teachers, students, and buses come to school. I ran into one of my old colleagues who asked me why in the world I would subject myself to this route at this time. But it's been over a year, and I kind of like running into people I know. Plus, the whole safety and convenience factor outweigh any residual feelings I might have harbored (although sometimes if Penny looks like she's going to make a drop, a tiny part of me wants to leave it there...but I DON'T, don't worry). J gets to see the big school buses and we sing "The Wheels on the Bus", he sees the kids, who often smile at him, and it's fine. However, I did like this morning that we had to hustle so I could get to my job. That was nice.

One

My darling boy,

One year ago, after a surprising ultrasound, a phone conference with the OB, and anesthesia and a little surgery for your mommy, you came into our lives. The memory of your birth, hazy yet somehow crystal clear, will remain with me always. How they held you up so I could see you, how I murmured how beautiful you were, how your grandparents came in right after and we all cried and marveled at your face and your funny little toes, crowded on top of each other. You were healthy and you were ours. The day before, we were expecting. That day, we earned new names, new roles, new lives.

                                  

Right after that, quite unexpectedly, I lost my job. Here we were, brand-new parents, not knowing which end was up, and we got thrown a curveball of massive proportions. Your daddy acted as a tower of strength, taking care of absolutely everything as I recovered and we figured out how to live with this tiny person. Sure, we had all the diapers, the clothes, the bottles...but we had no real idea, as all novice parents feel. It reminds me of the movie Juno when, as adoptive mama Jennifer Garner held the newborn baby in her arms, she asked Allison Janney awkwardly, "How do I look?" and she replied, "Like a new mom: Scared shitless." Sounds right.

Thank goodness we had such wonderful family and friends to help...Mimi came over every day to vacuum, do laundry, help bathe and change you, let me take naps, and show me how to be a mom as we bonded in a new way as mother and daughter. CiCi brought food and hand-knit sweaters for her first little "ownty-own" grandson, and she stayed over for the first two nights so we could get some sleep, singing and walking the floor with you in the middle of the night.

Our friend M came over and even spent the night as well the third night you were home, also letting us get some much-needed sleep...and taught me to pedal your wee legs to relieve your tummy bubbles. I felt so terrible that I didn't know and she simply replied, "Well, why would you?", reminding me that I would simply learn as I went, asking many, many questions. Aunt M, five months ahead of the game with your cousin C, was invaluably helpful with those myriad questions. I felt so relieved that she'd gone through it first so she could blaze the trail! At six weeks my Colgate girls descended and pampered us all weekend, holding you so I could sleep, making me laugh, feeding us, and wrapping me in their love and friendship like a cozy, warm quilt. 

I'm sure I've forgotten to mention people...how lucky I feel to have so many supporters that I can't remember them all.

As you grew, your eyes turned from indigo to their beautiful bright blue, we made it through cradle cap and acid reflux, and you slept through the night earlier than Daddy and I will ever tell anyone. You went from rolling over to crawling to cruising the furniture--we know you'll walk any day now, and it's both thrilling and terrifying. From the first time you got an arm out of your swaddle, earning the nickname "Teeny Houdini", we knew you'd be a busy boy! You sing to yourself and us, and nothing delights you more than Penny, your protector and playmate. A simple sneeze from her puts you in hysterical laughter, breaking us up as well. You know Papa now on Skype, trying your hardest to crawl into the laptop to get to him. Even though you don't talk yet, we know you understand a lot. You're still a little shy and have just begun to receive cousin C's rather exuberant hugs without crying, but you just need to go at your own pace.

You immediately charmed all of your relatives, from stoic Uncle R and Grandpa R to Great-Grandma M, from the East to West Coast. You bring out the gentle side in everyone, sweetie.

I think one of my favorite parts of this past year has been watching you with Daddy. His combination of gentleness and strength make me love him even more than I did before you were born, sweet baby J. You squeal with happiness when he flips you upside-down (to the horror of all grand and great-grandparents), and you love to take weekend naps with your little body flung across his chest. I understand the feeling--he's great at making us feel safe and warm and protected.

So, dearest man, happy first birthday. I never realized how boundless love was until I had you...because just when I think I can't love you any more, you do something to make that feeling grow. Watching you grow has been one of the greatest gifts I will ever receive.

love,
Mama