Currently viewing the tag: "parenting"
Tessa just got her 2 month vaccinations.
Up until the doctor had all the needles laid out in front of her I didn’t feel nervous at all. And even then, it was just my usual needle-queasiness.
I know a lot of parents dread their babies getting shots. But I’ve learned that this is nothing to be feared.
Tessa got her shots. She got her bandaids. She wailed. And then I picked her up and held her and bounced and she was calm 10 seconds later. It was a louder cry than usual. It hurt me to hear her cry. But it was over soon and she was none the wiser.
What is to be feared? Older kids and shots.
I think an 8-year-old can handle it. But a 2-year-old? A 3-year-old? Not so much.
At the Bug’s 2-year checkup when he got his shots I had to “give him a big hug.” Meaning I had to lay my upper body across his upper body to hold him down. A nurse had to hold his legs. In that situation, the kid KNOWS they are getting hurt. And worse, they know you are complicit.
Of course there are worse things. When he was almost one he had to get a thumb-prick for a blood test. Except it wasn’t just a quick prick but a process that took a long time and a lot of squeezing and me holding him on my lap as he screamed.
And then when he had to get blood taken shortly before he turned 2 to check his lead levels and to check for genetic disorders after his Autism diagnosis, well, there was a team involved. A large team. And I don’t think the Bug was as disturbed by the needles as much as he was disturbed by the number of people and their attempts to hold him down. I can’t really blame him. No one’s ever done that to me and if they did I’d be pretty terrified, too.
So really, it was a relief getting Tessa’s shots. Especially because it makes me feel better about taking her all over the place. It also meant she got a weigh-in where we confirmed that despite her skinny arms and legs, she is actually gaining weight well. She’s just at the 70th percentile for height, even though she’s at the 50th for weight. So we don’t have to worry about her nutrition or eating. And we don’t have to worry about getting shots again for two more months.
And when that day comes, I’ll be right there again, ready to pick her up and calm her down. I’ve still got a while left before she catches on.
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During the week we’re rather stingy with the TV viewing, but on the weekends and in the evenings, the Bug gets to watch a show. He usually gets to pick, although I draw the line at stuff like Bob the Builder, which I find too annoying to bear. With Netflix Streaming available, he’s got more Thomas the Tank Engine than he could ever ask for along with other favorites like Wonder Pets.
But what has the Bug been wanting lately? March of the Penguins.
I’m assuming you’ve seen it, because at some point in the mid ’00′s, everyone did. It is about 60% adorable and 40% super super super depressing. And it’s all mixed together. So at one point you’ll be cooing over a baby penguin. Next minute, dead frozen baby penguin.
The Bug seems to have a specific kind of preference when it comes to movies. Many of his favorites fall into the same niche.
I’ve written before about Dumbo and how awful it is. Bambi isn’t so great either. Also included, Up, which still gets me in its initial sequence.
I swear this kid is doing it just to mess with me. I’d almost take Thomas over this stuff. At least in the world of Thomas there is the comfort of knowing that the trains are all obnoxious jerks and that’s as bad as it’s ever going to get. Even when the freight cars fall into the ravine there doesn’t seem to be any lasting damage. Worst case scenario: the carnival starts a few minutes late and someone needs a new coat of paint.
You just can’t really win with kids shows, can you? They’re either annoying or murderous.
I’d love to indulge the Bug’s current interest in nature documentaries, but they tend to be too high stakes. So basically, they’re too real. The Bug is not ready for real. He is not ready for a world where Bambi’s mother is shot and Dumbo’s mother is locked in a cage and some poor penguin’s mother is devoured. Fortunately he’s so not ready that he doesn’t realize most of this is happening. But I do. And I’m done.
So please, someone, make a no-penguins-dying movie for Netflix, for my sanity’s sake?
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Eric and I went out on Saturday night and when we came back the sitter mentioned that one of our neighbors had said of Tessa, “That baby sure does cry a lot.”
The sitter was nonplussed, and I don’t know what I would’ve done, either. How is a person supposed to respond to that kind of comment? (Especially after Friday’s no-pacifier-crazy-lady on the T.)
Especially because it’s true. Tessa DOES cry a lot. Now that we’ve left the quiet newborn phase and we’re supposed to have the 4-8 week crankies behind us, it appears that Tesser, who is clocking in at 10 weeks, is a fussypants.
Tessa maintains she is innocent until proven guilty on the charge of Fussiness in the 1st degree..
Sure, she has her morning good moods, complete with smiles. But for much of the day she is either fussing or eating. (She is not much for napping.) She will only accept her swing if she is in one of these good moods, which kind of defeats the purpose of the swing.
And so much of my day involves crying. If I need to fix the Bug’s lunch, I must listen to crying. If I want to wash dishes, do laundry or make dinner there is crying. If we drive anywhere, there’s crying. If we walk, there’s often crying.
If she had her way she’d eat all day. She enjoys lounging in hour-long feeding sessions but this doesn’t really work for anyone else. When she’s not eating I am actively trying to get her to stop crying, which usually involves being on my feet and bouncing. I sometimes find myself bouncing involuntarily. My blog posts are written in a frenzy during those short periods of sleep when I’m finally off the hook. (Right now she is considering whether she’s happy while we’re in my bed. One of the only places she’ll relax.)
Sometimes we can fight the crying by sticking her in her carrier, as she’ll usually conk out. But even this is precarious. It means no laundry or dishes, as the bending and straightening required would jostle her too much. It means any sitting must be done cautiously, after she is asleep, and then it must be at an angle where she is comfortable.
Sleeping Tessa, Tired Mama
I wanted Tessa to be a girl and I wanted her to be mellow. Looks like I only got 50% of my wishes.
This means I am 0 for 2 when it comes to mellow babies and currently rocking a 100% on the High-Maintenance Baby Scale.
I can only hope she doesn’t engage in the insane power struggles of naptime that the Bug did. Those may just bring me down. 45 minutes of soothing for a 20 minute nap is a battle I don’t think I can fight 5 times a day. Again. But her short daytime naps already bode poorly for the future.
Tesser, my dear, everything doesn’t have to be so hard. Just sit back and smell the roses, okay?
Update: On our walk home from playgroup this morning as we made our way through the chilly wind, the same neighbor (I assume it’s a neighbor, though I don’t know where she lives) stopped ME and said Tessa had been loud with the sitter and “everyone” was concerned. While saying all this to me, and adding that she didn’t “want to pry into [my] business,” she didn’t seem to notice Tessa wailing from the stroller or the toddler running madly on ahead.
“She does that,” I said repeatedly. “She’s a loud baby.”
This didn’t seem to satisfy her. Let’s hope no one decides to call Child Services.
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Blogger friends are excellent to have. Especially when they have extra tickets to stuff. My friend Masshole Mommy had some vouchers for Sesame Street Live and I figured the Bug was finally old enough to attempt a live show.
The show was playing all weekend, from Friday to Sunday. But the evening shows were at the Bug’s bedtime, and most of the matinees were right in the middle of naptime. So instead we went to the Friday morning show, which was at 10:30.
This isn’t the kind of thing I get excited about. And I wouldn’t have bought tickets. When the Bug is old enough to beg for such things I’m sure that will change, but for now it’s just a special treat for him that he doesn’t feel entitled to. (Thank goodness. I’m really not looking forward to that changing when he gets older.)
To make the show and get there early so we could redeem our vouchers for seats and get a little time in the before-show play zone, we left the house shortly after 8. I hadn’t had coffee. Or breakfast. The Bug had eaten a muffin and a glass of milk. I threw a granola bar and an applesauce pouch in the Baby Bag and we were on our way. Tessa started out cooperative.
I didn’t see any other option than to stroller it up with Tessa in her carseat. I figured I could feed her at the show and she was in a good mood.
Our ride required a bus, a transfer to a train and then a transfer to another train. The first two weren’t a big deal. The bus with the stroller is old hat, though it’s a lot nicer when it’s not crowded and you can move the seat up so you don’t clog the aisle.
Our first train ride was no big deal. An elevator. A donut stand so I could grab an iced coffee. And a train arriving just moments after we arrived on the platform.
The Bug, ever in motion
After that? Not so friendly. I had a strong suspicion there would be no elevator at our transfer point. I’d used that station before, but never to make this particular transfer. Sure enough, we were confronted with well over 2 flights of stairs. So I broke down the stroller, grabbed the carseat in one hand and the frame in the other, and had the Bug walk right behind me as we went down the mountain of stairs. Which would, of course, be followed by a mountain of stairs going up shortly thereafter.
Fortunately a nice guy (who was actually going the other way) grabbed the stroller frame for me so I could hold the Bug’s hand and Tessa’s seat. Back at the top we put the stroller back together, walked along the concourse, then took two elevators to get to our train. You know, no biggie.
To get to the show we had to take the Green Line. We used to live on that line and I despised it. Half of the green line runs underground and the other half runs on the street. For whatever reason, you have to step up on to these trains most of the time. Occasionally there is a train with a handicap entrance that’s close to ground level. Otherwise it’s three large steps to climb on board. Worse, to catch fare evaders, they’ve started only opening the front door at the street stops. The trains have a small aisle so this means everyone has to go in and out through the same door and push through the same crowds. It is not good.
Sure enough, our train didn’t have a handicap car. I was just about to break down the stroller again when another young guy helped me carry it up the three steps. Once we got in our seat, I did actually break it down so we’d have a little more room and I’d be able to get off quickly.
I can’t tell you how glad I am I decided to get an umbrella-fold stroller. Life without it on the T would be miserable.
Finally, we arrived at our destination. We got our tickets and made our way inside. I’d been a little unsure about what would happen to the stroller once we got there. There was a roped off area under the stairs that seemed not-exactly-safe, but at least there were lots of security people around. I broke down the stroller (seeing a theme here?), took Tessa out of her seat, and we headed up to the Play Zone.
The Play Zone opens an hour before the show. I was expecting play. What it really was was mostly photo ops. Sesame Street backdrops where you could take your kid’s picture. Several had lines. There were tables with coloring supplies but the Bug was having none of it. So instead we went to our seats, bypassing the merchandise tables and the refreshment stands. (The latter had a sign saying “Adults at this show are limited to one beer.” I understand wanting to avoid drunk parents at Sesame Street, but it still feels kind of mean. Couldn’t we at least use a buzz? Especially since someone is kicking the back of our seat the whole time?)
Then I just had to entertain the Bug at our seats for a while. I fed Tessa, who was angelic, sleeping through most of the show and quietly watching the rest. Graham found his seat “scary” and didn’t want to sit. Luckily the seat was taller than he was so standing up wasn’t a big deal. We managed to pass the time. (I tried to download a Sesame Street app but my connection wasn’t good enough.) And then it began.
I was nervous about how the Bug would handle himself. If we needed to we could leave any time. I didn’t want to make him do it if he didn’t want to. Luckily the crowds at this kind of show are loud and no one cares if one kid occasionally shouts, “No!”
Once things got started he was pretty rapt.
He occasionally demanded that Elmo or Ernie or Oscar return to the stage when they left. And he didn’t understand why he couldn’t go on stage to say “hi.” Luckily he was convinced to wave hello from his seat, which he did several times.
We made a quick trip to the bathroom to give Miss Tess a diaper change and got back just in time to catch the big finale… before intermission.
At this point I had to wonder: who thought it was a good idea to give an arena full of preschoolers intermission??? Entertaining them at their seats isn’t exactly easy. And going up and down the steep stairs isn’t easy. But pretty soon I had the answer to my question.
The Elmo-balloon-selling fatcats. That’s who thought intermission was a good idea. The people who made the merch for this show were smart. There were lots of things with lights so that all the kids could see who had a special star or whatever. And during intermission, the floating Elmos gradually swarmed all over the arena. It was a serious case of peer pressure.
Of course I wanted the Bug to have an Elmo balloon. He definitely wanted one. But I never got Elmo balloons and such growing up and I believe I’m a better person because of it. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.
So the Bug went without. Which was also a good idea because the balloons had to be smushed under your seats once the show started again, 15 interminable minutes later.
The wiggly preschoolers were now hyper and anxious to get out of their seats, so the second half required a lot more action from the beefy guys who guarded the stage. It also seemed the parents were less concerned about keeping their kids in their seats because more than once I saw some little ones make a break for the stage. And a whole flock of them stood, unsupervised, at the foot of the stairs just waiting to throw themselves at whatever character made an expedition down into the stands.
As for Graham, he was pretty much the same in the second half. I occasionally asked if he wanted to leave but he insisted on “more show.” He finally agreed to go about 5 minutes before the show ended. Perfect timing. We were able to get our stroller and get on our way. Of course the Elmo balloons were out for purchase in the lobby. ($10. Hell no.)
I’d survived a live Sesame Street show. And I still hadn’t eaten. So we walked across the street to find somewhere with “milk,” the Bug’s sole request. He vetoed pasta and pizza so that left us with only one option.
Lunch al fresco with a picky eater. (@ Chipotle Mexican Grill w/ 2 others) http://t.co/bIq6ESse
@jessicaesquire
Jessica
Lunch had pros and cons. Pro: Bug ate all his beans. Con: No inside tables available. Pro: Outside table available. Con: Outside table has only one chair. Pro: Next table over has an extra chair. Con: Lady with two kids at next table over says she’s saving the seat for her husband. Pro: She lets us have the chair anyway. Con: “Until her husband comes.” Pro: I sit facing away from her so I don’t see when her husband comes and thankfully they leave us alone.
Lunch was when Tessa’s patience ran out. She was cranky on and off from lunch until we got home. That meant she was cranky while we got our after-lunch cake pops from Starbucks. And she was cranky while we waited for the train. (Another young guy helped us with our stroller again, which was pretty necessary since it was a very crowded train.) And then while we rode the train, and the next train. And while we waited forever to get a bus. (I had literally just sat down to feed her when the bus pulled up. She was not happy.)
While on the train I was seeing if she’d take a pacifier when a lady yelled at me from across the train not to force the pacifier on her. (I wasn’t. Tessa sometimes takes a while to decide if she wants it or not.) And for the last time we found a young man coming to our aid, this one retorted, “Don’t tell her what to do with her child.” After that the lady continued her conversation in Spanish, I’m sure so we wouldn’t understand her badmouthing my parenting skills. And I was grateful that the thuggish looking guys had sat next to us.
We finally got home over 6 hours after we’d left. It was a crazy expedition. The Bug fell asleep in my lap on the bus going home. We’d had quite a lot of cuddling on our many train and bus rides. The good old-fashioned cuddles were probably my favorite part of the day. Who needs Ernie and Elmo?
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Dear Everyone I’ve Seen In Public Lately:
I am sorry. I think a few months of pregnancy-induced hermit-dom followed by those early weeks of baby crazies have left me socially unhinged. I’ve been out and about a lot and I’m loving it. But I think I’m loving it a little bit too much because I find myself feeling like I did several years ago when I’d think back on an outing and realize I’d been a jerk.
I have lots of bad habits that I spent a long time breaking and just when I finally got past it I have picked them all back up again.
So I apologize if I talk too loud or talk too much or just generally am too overwhelming. It means I am enjoying you. I am working on toning it down.
This is why I don’t vlog.
Love,
Jess
Dear Tesser:
I know I put a lot of pressure on you for you to be different from your brother. You know it’s totally okay if you turn out just like him, even though that will mean I am living with 3 identical people and may lose my everloving mind.
Anyway, I thought you were all different, but you are now 2 months old and you seem to have hit that magical turn where you are suddenly Angry All The Time. Your brother did this, too. Until now I thought you were different. You have more hair and it’s lovely and dark. Your eyes are already getting more green and less blue. You breastfeed well. You don’t have to be swaddled all day long. You don’t have GERD. Your head circumference isn’t in the 99th percentile.
But now it seems you two are more alike. You are now constantly fussy. You must be held. You must be held while standing. You must be held while standing and bouncing and if all of this is not done heaven help me.
You’ve also started crying at stoplights. Graham did this from birth, so it’s not like you’re exactly the same, but this is really not my favorite thing and Graham did it until he was 18 months or so.
Your naps are frustratingly short. Graham was a horrifically bad napper. He didn’t get better until he was nearly 2 years old. I may not have to spend 30 minutes putting you down for a 20 minute nap. But only because you really don’t nap much at all so there’s no point.
Oh, and in one respect you are much worse than Graham: you are still sleeping in our bed. And you never seem to sleep anywhere else. Which isn’t helping with the nap thing.
And so, my sweet girl, remember that your Mama loves you. But she also loves sleep and it’s best to keep that in mind.
Love,
Mama
Dear Graham:
Remember how much it sucked when you didn’t nap? Remember how long it used to take you to go down for a nap? Remember how short your naps were? Remember when we finally got past all that and you took wonderful, glorious 2+ hour naps and woke up all adorable and relaxed?
Can we go back to doing that? Because it’s bad enough having one kid that won’t nap in this house. Your recent nap strike is not appreciated. I know we’ll have to end your naps this summer when you start Day Camp, but still… can we have a few more months of happiness?
Love,
Mama’s Sanity
Dear Friday Reads Column That I Haven’t Written For Weeks,
I am sorry. My book reading habits have gone seriously downhill. You can blame the baby. Specifically you can blame the fact that she can now nurse while I lay on my side, which means neither of us has to move at night for her to eat. Which means I no longer sit in bed while she eats in the middle of the night with my kindle keeping me company. So I am now taking a week to read a book instead of a day.
Hopefully this will get better soon. And I plan to have a post ready for next week. Cross my heart.
Love,
Jess the Bookworm
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The meeting started 45 minutes late. At the meeting before ours the parents showed up 30 minutes late and the whole meeting had to be translated, thus the delay. It seems these problems aren’t too unusual. The family scheduled after us had already missed several appointments and called to try and reschedule while our meeting was still going on. As for me, I felt guilty that I arrived on time. I’d wanted to get there early, but I’d stopped on the way to give myself a drive-thru coffee as a treat and got stuck for 10 minutes when the lady in front of me had some problem that demanded her to pass her change and receipt back and forth with the person in the window over and over.
I sat with our service coordinator from Early Intervention and our two lead ABA therapists. Eventually the ABA evaluator came, too. We were lucky to have her. Our district is rather notorious for not having ABA evals done on time and we’d only heard from her on Monday.
In the end, I hadn’t listened to all the sources that told me all the many things I should do before the meeting. In part because it’s a lot harder to know what your goals are when your child’s never been in a classroom environment before. And because I didn’t know enough about what the meeting would be like to anticipate what I’d need. And in part because I felt like I knew Graham’s strengths and weaknesses well enough. And, I guess, because that’s just how I am. In court I used only a handful of notes when I had a trial or a hearing, my approach is to know my stuff and have it in my head. I had a small notebook and a pen to take notes. That was all.
Finally the meeting started. It was in a small room and there were 12 of us (12!) all there to talk about one little boy. We brought in chairs from another room and did our best to squeeze everyone in. Once we were all set, we went around the circle and everyone took a turn talking about Graham.
Most of them had done evaluations and had reports. There was a nurse, an early childhood educator, an occupational therapist, a psychologist and a speech therapist. Our team talked for a while. A few times people asked me questions and I answered.
I’d been told this meeting was mostly for listening. After gathering all the recommendations, they would make up the IEP and send it to me. After that we could decide whether to accept or reject it, in full or in part, and potentially start a new round of independent evaluations. So this wasn’t the end all and be all, but it was still hugely important.
It is very strange to sit in this position. You realize how different you are from other parents. When someone would talk about their time with Graham and describe him as “average” or “above average” I would think, No! I doubt there are many situations where a parent wants to hear their child’s problems examined to their fullest extent. One evaluator kept interspersing her report with gleeful statements like, “We had so much fun!” I tried to push down my frustration and take pleasure in the fact that she’d enjoyed spending time with Graham and found him delightful. Because yes, he is delightful, and it’s wonderful to hear that. Even though it was followed by a recommendation of “No Services.” It wasn’t so wonderful to hear that.
After everyone spoke, the leader of the meeting said it sounded like they all agreed on a disability of Autism. That’s different than a disability of Developmental Delay because he doesn’t really qualify for that anymore. He’s made too much progress. (Damn progress!) But Autism is a good category for what makes things difficult for Graham these days.
And then a discussion began of an Integrated Classroom. That’s a setting with 15 kids, a teacher, and 1 or 2 aides that’s made up of half regular kids and half special-needs kids. It’s exactly what we wanted for Graham. It’s full-day, 5 days a week. Door to door transportation is available. (They asked if I’d rather take him myself and I answered, honestly, “I couldn’t possibly deprive Graham of the opportunity of taking the bus every day.”)
His needs aren’t severe enough for a year-round program, so he wouldn’t start until September. It leaves us with about 2 months of time where he’ll have aged out of Early Intervention services but won’t have school yet. We all talked about finding a day camp to help him get ready for the socializing and structure of a classroom.
And it appears he’ll get 10 hours a week of ABA while he’s in class to focus on socialization. More than we’d hoped, and I think it’ll be really helpful.
I went home and did a little online research and it looks like we can afford to send the Bug to day camp at the Y for those weeks before school. (It includes swimming lessons! They don’t care if he isn’t potty trained! It’s half the price of the local day camps!)
So I don’t have to worry about educating the Bug myself. We don’t have to look at moving to another school district. We don’t have to take out a loan for private preschool tuition.
I am SO happy.
And more than that, I’m really excited for Graham. I’ve always heard about parents crying when they take their kids to the bus and rolled my eyes. But now I get it. He will be going away. ALL DAY. I will wave goodbye to him in the morning. He will have so much fun. He will be so happy. But he will be gone.
Good thing I have Miss Tesser here to keep me company.
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Find the Mess
My Life’s a Mess and That’s Okay
Jess is a procrastinator, a former working mom who is suddenly staying at home, a Dr-Dr's wife, a non-practicing lawyer, an Autism Mom, a devoted reader, a penny pincher, a coupon clipper, a new New England-er, a low-key agnostic, a nice girl, a top-notch speller, a hardcore blogger and a Twitter fiend.
The blog covers everything from coupon tips to Autism support to adorable toddler pictures to hilarious tales of my daily grind with the occasional review & giveaway thrown in for good measure.
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