Actual Recent Conversation with my Husband

So, let me set the scene:

It's the weekend. Early afternoon. I have just stepped out of the shower and realized that I left my robe in our bedroom. I call for Steve's assistance. He is in the living room. Ahem.

Me: Steeeeeve! Can you get my robe? I left it on the foot of our bed.

Steve: Sure.

(returns with robe. Meanwhile, I am in wet towel, freezing my butt off. He begins to hand me the robe, then hesitates and pulls back)

Steve: Oh wait. I forgot. The dog peed on your robe.

Me: What?

Steve: Yeah, I forgot tell you. Meeko peed on your robe yesterday.

Me: You do realize that I wore this robe all morning and you saw me wearing it.

Steve: Yeah.

Me: And you didn't tell me that the dog peed on it yesterday?

Steve: Sorry! I forgot!

Me: I can't believe you didn't tell me that Meeko peed on my robe and I wore a pee-stained robe all morning!

Steve: You can't expect so much from me. Your expectations of me are way too high.

Me: On what planet is trusting your husband to tell you if the dog peed on the robe you are wearing too high of an expectation?

Steve: Well, I can't remember everything.

He was serious.

And he wonders why I sigh heavily all the time.

Cozy Wordless Wednesday

So, this one will only eat his oatmeal with a measuring cup, likes to wear his Darth Vader pajamas under his clothes to preschool, and loves Jack Black more than me, his daddy, or his little brother. He is my first-born, my life lesson, and my dream come true.

And this one cries at stoplights, cries when he isn't being held, and is currently loving rolling over onto his belly, but then getting stuck and crying. He is my second-born, my big-eyed, smiley sweetie, and also, my dream come true.

Wow. How lucky am I?

The Good, the Bad, and the Dirty Ugly

So, let's start with the GOOD.

I have been learning more and more about Max's sensory integration disorder, as I mentioned in my last post. I have been reading about various tools we can use to help him with his hyperactivity and his sensitivity to stimuli here at home. Things like a Sit N' Spin. Or a Hippity hop ball. Another blogger told me about Body Sox (thank you!).

Two tools I read about yesterday morning worked really well with Max. One, I read that a warm towel can calm some sensitive kids down. Two, a weighted blanket.

Now, usually when Max has to get out of the shower or the bathtub, he throws a MONSTER fit. I don't know if I have mentioned yet on this blog about his obsession with water. But, he's got one. Big time. He could fill a container with water, pour it out, and refill it over and over again for hours. And yes, our water bill is high.

So, yesterday morning, when he got out of the shower, right as he started to throw his usual tantrum, I quickly wrapped him up in a warm towel straight from the dryer. He immediately calmed down and got a huge grin on his face. After that, he was so easy to get dressed. It was amazing. I did it again last night after his bath and it worked again. I was so relieved. I even tried it again this morning when we were trying to get him dressed, but he was too far gone. I had to distract him with an apple cereal bar in order to get him dressed. Sweet.

Then, at naptime, since I didn't have a weighted blanket, I used a large, heavy crocheted blanket that my mom made for my husband. I wrapped Max up in it like a burrito. Usually, Max sneaks out of his room for one to two hours before he finally falls asleep. But once I wrapped him in that weighted blanket, he was asleep in minutes. I tried it again tonight at bedtime and it didn't work as well, but I will keep trying!!

Good, huh? I have also come to terms with the fact that this is just how it is going to be. Max reacts differently to stimuli and it is going to be more difficult around here. But, as long as I can accept it, know that this is our reality, and that Max can't help it, then possibly I might be able to stay less stressed. I'm crossing my fingers.

Now, for the BAD. Boooooo...

I think my husband has some major karma issues he is having to work out when it comes to money. I never had money problems until I married him. And he agrees. He is wondering what he did in a past life because we can never get ahead. Never. He never could when he was single, either. As soon as we get any money at all, some disaster befalls us and we have to spend it. The bright side is that we do seem to find money somehow right before disaster strikes.

For instance, we got some money from my husband's dad for Christmas. Yay, right? We were like, sweet, we will use this to pay off debt. But, then the Universe stepped in and said, "No, no, grasshopper. You have more lessons to learn." And we find out that the guy who rents our rent house got put in jail and can't pay the rent. We have no idea when he will be let out. And wouldn't you know, the amount of money we got from my father-in-law is exactly the amount we needed to pay the rental mortgage. Hmm.

Then, two days ago, when we discovered that we had $12 in the bank and needed to pay bills, we decided to cash out our 401K. We have held off until now, but like so many Americans, we can't do it anymore. I need health insurance, we have bills. So, that is what we did yesterday. Then, today, we find out we have a leak in our water pipes and had to turn off our water. Mother of Pearl. How expensive is that going to be to fix? My husband and my father-in-law are going to spend today digging up our yard to find the leak. I hope hope hope it is small and easily fixable, but I think my husband must have swindled money in a past life, so I won't hold my breath. The bright side is that we have had money problems for so many years now, that I no longer get upset when talking about it. It is just an emotionless fact.

And now, the DIRTY UGLY.

This is the pile of dirty laundry that is taking over my living room and won't be washed because we have no water. Tsk, tsk. Guess I should have gotten it done in my free time. Oh wait, I don't have any free time. Nevermind.

And this is the milk and ham and cheese that fell onto the dirty, oily parking lot at Walmart when my bag ripped open on the grocery cart and broke. Okay, well, there is no picture because that would have created more unnecessary work for me. So, you can just imagine a carton of chocolate soy milk, a package of deli ham, and some sharp cheddar cheese laying under the yellow lights of a dirty Walmart parking lot. Yuck.

Have a great weekend! I know I will! No laundry to do!

Mother of Pearl.

So, those of you who continue to read my blog must think I am such a whiner.

But really, I am a pretty happy and optimistic person. I have grown to be that way. As a teenager, I was just as sullen as any other, maybe more so, but as an adult, I have become pretty strong and positive.

However, sometimes, I do get down. And my blog, as unfortunate as it might be for my readers out there, is a way for me to get out my frustrations before I end up jumping from a bridge or running away to stay at a hotel for a few days, telling no one of my whereabouts (I've done that before, by the way. College.)

I don't sugar coat motherhood on this blog.

And of course, it is all about motherhood. Particularly, being a mother to a child with a few more needs than other children. Now, don't get me wrong. I feel incredibly grateful for my children. They are both healthy and happy and such blessings in my life. But, having a toddler with sensory integration disorder and developmental delays can be exhausting. I feel selfish sometimes for getting so exasperated with him, wanting to "check out" for awhile, or wishing I knew for one day what it was like to have a typical child. I mean, at least he is healthy and his conditon could be much worse. And none of it is his fault. But, nevertheless, it is difficult, and some days feel dark and hopeless.

We had his occupational therapy evaluation and he tested off the charts for most categories, especially sensory integration, hyposensitivity to movement, fine motor skills and visual motor skills. I am so grateful that he is going to be getting help for his needs before he goes to public school in 3 or 4 years. I want him to be happy and functional, to be able to control the aggression towards his brother and others, and the frustration he experiences in everyday life, and I want the same for myself. I may need therapy to learn to control my own anger and frustration. But, that costs money we don't have. Until then, crying into my green tea may be my only release.


My life revolves around Max. More guilt, by the way, because I know that my 4-month old, Harry, sometimes gets ignored and can't possibly get all the attention he deserves. We are homebound most of the time because it is impossible to take Max to a restaurant or a movie. It is difficult to take him in public. Period. He has to be strapped down in grocery carts and he is getting too big for that. Plus, if my newborn is with me as well, he needs to sit up front in the cart. So, where does Max go? If I let him walk, I lose him the minute we walk in .

I spend everyday either taking him to preschool, taking him to various therapy appointments, trying to entertain him and keep him busy with "work" related activities, like carrying heavy objects, helping with housework, raking leaves, etc. (these types of activities seem to relax him - I have since learned that this is because heavy work patterns contract a large number of muscles and compress joints, thereby providing activity that helps calm him down), trying to keep him from hurting Harry or our dog, Meeko, constantly supervising his meals so he doesn't throw his food across the room or against the walls. By the end of the night, I have nothing left to give Harry or my husband. I am completely spent.

Some mothers wish their kids wouldn't watch so much TV. I would give almost anything to have mine sit still long enough to watch a Disney movie. Or a whole cartoon from beginning to end.

And I am terrified that Harry is going to grow up timid, untrusting, and frightened of the world around him because he is everyday being hit or having some hard object thrown at him by Max. Harry is much more sensitive and needy than Max ever was.

I have been learning a lot about sensory processing. An inefficient processing system can result in everything that Max has: attention problems, frequent aggression, unpredictable explosions of emotion, poor social skills, poor balance, over response to various stimuli, difficulty maintaining an alert but relaxed state. He is very hyperactive and there were signs when he was a baby. but of course he was too young to know anything back then. As a baby, he would constantly spin his feet when he sat in his stroller or in his highchair. He would also constantly shake his arms and hands while he was in his highchair. He could not be still AT ALL.

My days are really hard and most of them end up with me crying or with a stomach ache because I am so stressed out. I just pray that his therapy helps him and teaches us, as his parents, the skills we need to help him here at home. Our lives can't go on like this. They just can't.

Our sweet Max

Thanks everyone for listening. I appreciate it. I will try to write some more uplifting posts in the future!! But, Mother of Pearl! Can I get a freaking break? Oh yeah, and a money tree? Thanks.

Thank you, Pia. And good-bye.

So, with the holidays and craziness, I haven't had time to write in about 3 weeks.

This last week has been a tough one. My 2 yr. old threw up 3 times on Christmas Eve morning, then my husband started throwing up and having the Big D (you know what I'm talking about) around 9 pm Christmas night, and then I started with both around 3:30 am that night. We both threw up about every 20 minutes for hours. Every thing in our house that could have been thrown up in was thrown up in.

Then, the following day, my mother got it. We sent our 3 month old to stay overnight with my husband's sister to keep him protected, but a few hours after we picked him up from her house the next day, my sister-in-law started throwing up and had to go to the ER twice! Luckily, our newborn has so far been saved from all of this. Babies are born with such strong immunity.

Then, yesterday, I had to have my dog, Pia, put to sleep. It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.

She was only six. Her seventh birthday is tomorrow. She had liver failure. She was diagnosed with it in September and had been taking pills ever since. But, in the last month or so, the pills stopped working and she ballooned up with fluid in her abdomen. She has also been using the bathroom on the floor lately because she couldn't make it outside.

I took her to the vet yesterday and he said the pills were not going to help her anymore and from here out, she would be miserable. And I couldn't let her suffer. I've seen dogs suffer because the owners love them too much to have them put down, but I loved her too much to let her suffer. The vet recommended she be put to sleep soon, so I had it done yesterday, before she got too miserable.

Pia was an awesome dog. She was a toy rat terrier and incredibly smart. She had the best instincts. She was kind and loving to kids and she loved me so much. She helped me through some really tough times in my life and she is the one who taught me how to take care of someone else besides myself. She used to lick my face when I cried and she loved to play with her food, like it was a toy. She would take a piece of food, carry it into the living room, and throw it around the room and chase it. She loved going to Grandma's house, loved being outside, and loved taking rides in the car. She knew what I was saying even when I wasn't talking to her. She was the best dog I have ever had and she can never be replaced.

I used to take her to the hair salon where I worked and she would just lie on the receptionist's desk and hang out. She was never a problem.

I'm sad that I only got to be loved by her for six short years. I should have been able to have her much longer.

When the vet left the room to get the anethesia and the meds that stopped her heart, I got to be alone with her and tell her how much I love her and thank her for all the gifts she has given me in the last six years. And then, I held her while she went to sleep.

She was the last bit of my pre-married, pre-parenthood life that I had left. She was the last piece of me that reminded me of who I was before I was making lunches and cleaning thrown food from the walls. And she was the only other estrogen in the house besides me!

I will miss her like crazy and have done more than enough crying in the past two days. And the crying will continue, I'm sure.

She was part of the family. Pia, you will never be forgotten and I love you.

*cough, cough* Can I Have a Sick Day, Please? No? I didn't think so.

So, I haven't been sick since March of 2006. Now, 8 days after I cancel my health insurance, I get sick. Duh.

Luckily, this time, I don't have a fever. Just a severe sore throat, nausea, and a runny nose with drainage down my throat. I started feeling bad yesterday morning and it just got worse throughout the day. By bedtime, my throat hurt so bad I couldn't even swallow liquids.

I couldn't sleep last night, plus I had to get up at 4:45 am to feed my son. Then, at 6:15 am, I felt an unnerving presence, like someone was staring at me as I laid in bed trying to sleep. I slowly opened my eyes and saw my 2 yr old standing next to my side of the bed, staring at me. 6:15? Really? He couldn't sleep for just a little bit longer?

I asked my husband to get up with him since I am sick and he did. However, he promptly fell asleep on the den couch, which sent my 2 yr old son right back into our bedroom to get me up. Then, my newborn started crying in his room, so at 7:30 am, I just got out of bed. So much for sleep.

I began to make my son's breakfast and my husband's lunch, then realized that my husband forgot to go to the grocery store last night. So, at 8:30 am, I took my baggy, bloodshot eyes and unbrushed teeth to the store so I could come home and make a dessert and an appetizer for my girl's night out Christmas party tonight, which I wouldn't miss even if my leg got cut off - I'm not missing my once a month opportunity to be kid-free - and then make bbq chicken for my husband for dinner since he won't eat anything but cereal if I don't make the food for him.

Now, it is 10:24 am. I feel terrible, I am nauseated, and it seems like it is about 8 pm already. As grateful as I am for my blessed life, I sure would like some quiet time and sleep so my body can heal itself.

Can I have a sick day today, please? No? Okay. I didn't think so. Yes, I will make you some chocolate milk. And yes, I will pack your lunch. Please don't pull my hair. Yes, I will sit here and play Star Wars with you. And yes, we can turn on iCarly. And yes, I will clean off the dining room table. And yes, I will wash some of your boxers. Yes, I will change your diaper. And yours too. And yes, I will hold you. And yes, ...

The Showdown

So, oh my goodness.

Yesterday. Oh, yesterday.

I didn't think I was going to make it through.

Make it through what?

I'll tell you what.

THE SHOWDOWN.

That's what.

Here is what happened. And this post might be long, so in case you can't make it all the way through, here is how it ends: I didn't run off and join a clan of traveling gypsies in order to escape motherhood.

So, yesterday was chaotic. My son, Max, had his speech therapy evaluation in the morning and just before we were about to leave, he and our bull terrier were chasing each other around the Christmas tree and my son fell and hit his forehead on the windowsill. We were already running late. After comforting him, drying his tears, and watching a red welp and purple bruise form on his head, we jumped into the car and I realized I had left my mug of green tea inside the house. Oh well, no time to get it.

I zoomed down our street and as I am turning left onto the main road, I see something fly off the hood of my car and smash all over the road. It was my ceramic mug of green tea. I HAD remembered to grab it, I just didn't remember that I had grabbed it and put it on the hood of my car. So, then I had to stop and clean up shattered ceramic off the street. Geez.

Later that afternooon, the day just got worse. My son was super grumpy, he was trying to knock over the Christmas tree, knock over the Christmas decorations, he was running around like a maniac, my newborn wouldn't stop crying unless I held him, I was trying to do everything with one free hand, there was no way I was getting dinner cooked, and then our bull terrier knocked an electric Christmas candle off the windowsill and the bulb broke all over the wood floor. And my son was in his bare feet.

I put my newborn, Harry, in his pack n play and put my 2 yr old son in his crib so I could clean up the broken glass. And as I am cleaning up the glass, I hear a THUD and then the pitter patter of little feet running across the kitchen floor. What the?

A little face peeked around the kitchen door.

Oh, crap. My son finally figured out how to crawl out of his crib. I had been dreading this day.

Finally, my husband came home at 6:30 pm and I was so tired, I crawled into Harry's crib with him and we both fell asleep for an hour and a half!

I woke up at 8 pm with Max trying to climb into Harry's crib and sit on top of us.

After teeth brushing and Star Wars playtime, we tried to put Max down at 8:30 pm.

And THE SHOWDOWN began.

First, Max started by crying and begging to be taken out of his crib. Now, usually, Max is easy to put down. Not sure why he chose last night to bust out the smackdown.

After he cried for a few minutes, he remembered, "Hey! I can crawl out of this little mini prison."

So let the games begin.

For the next 45 minutes, my husband and I took turns returning our son to his crib in Supernanny style. And Max thought it was hilarious. What a fun game!, he thought. You could see the pride on his face. He had outsmarted mommy and daddy!

My husband then decided to turn Max's crib around so that the low front was pushed up against the wall and the high back was facing the room. We thought there was no way Max could crawl over the high back.

And we were right. He couldn't. So, instead, he decided to try and squeeze his body between the wall and the low front of the crib and get out that way.

Suddenly we heard him screaming. My husband ran into his room to find him dangling between the wall and the crib by his neck because his head was too big to fit in between. What if we hadn't heard him screaming? It scared us to death!

So, at 9:30 pm, we decided we had no choice but to transition him and his crib into the toddler bed. My husband took off the front of the crib and we put up the mesh barricade to keep him from rolling onto the floor in his sleep. At first, Max thought it was so exciting that he could get in and out of his bed all by himself. But, that thrill didn't last long.

Once we turned out the light and closed the door, I think he realized that we had taken all the fun out of his new favorite game and he started screaming like I have never heard him scream before. It started out as just screaming out of anger. Then it transitioned into screaming and crying. Then, he just lost it. He yelled and screamed and cried like we were physically torturing him. And even though he could get out of bed by himself, he didn't. It wasn't fun for him anymore. He just sat there in his bed and flailed around screaming.

I checked on him a couple of times, my husband checked on him once, and nothing we did could calm him down.

Finally, at 10:30 pm, I snuck into the hallway outside of his door to listen and see if I should go in again. Suddenly, the green tea I was drinking went down the wrong pipe and I started coughing and choking and making an awful racket. I guess I would flunk out of ninja school.

But, my choking turned out to be a positive happening because my son stopped crying long enough to listen to me outside his door. All the coughing distracted him long enough to calm him down and he fell asleep!

And he slept through the night. Aaahhhhh...

Nap time today should be interesting.