No Easy Fixes

There are no easy fixes when it comes to Little Man. Going in to our appointment last Friday, I was pretty sure there would be tears - from me as well as Little Man. I woke up that morning and my bug had finally decided to hit me HARD. In the face. I walked around like a zombie while Hubs got everyone dressed and out the door, and managed to make me some breakfast for the road. I was miserable all day so I knew a stress-related breakdown at the appointment was inevitable. I am the kind of person who releases any emotion with tears, so I knew to stock the van with a box of soft and lotion-y tissues for the day.

Little Man started the appointment by having a serious tantrum that lasted a solid twenty minutes or so. Some head slapping and dramatic tears were eventually alleviated with three bags of fruit snacks and some therapy work. But the news was pretty much what I expected - we are on one wait list to see a psychiatrist for a med evaluation, and a second wait list for a two week long intensive outpatient program for behavioral modification. We are also restarting the every-other-week sessions with his psychologist. Even knowing it was coming, the serious look on his therapist's face brought me to tears. This therapist has seen Little Man since he was three years old, so he's seen Little Man at his best and at his lowest. This look said to me that this is the lowest we've been in those three years. And even typing that makes me tear up and my heart break.

I set aside all thoughts of therapy this weekend to just enjoy time with friends and Hubs. Even though we both were exhausted and still a little sick, I think we needed it. We spent Saturday night at a friend's Christmas party and Sunday night I went to brunch with more friends. Then yesterday I auditioned for another community theater production. Being busy is the only thing that keeps me sane. Sometimes I feel like the more I have on my plate, the more focused and happy I am. I mean, talk to me about that again in a few months, but yes - busy is good!

Speaking of busy, we have only a few days until I leave with two wiggly little boys and Hubs for a 16 hour road trip to Wisconsin. To save a crapton (yes, a unit of measurement) of money we decided on renting the smaller car versus the SUV. Cross your fingers and hearts for us, I'm hoping we make it in one piece. We are literally driving up, spending two days with family, and then driving back. We are insane.

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And because he didn't get mentioned much, here is a photo of Vegas being adorable. Also a reminder that I love this little squish, because seriously this grumpy mood he's been in for two days is no fun at all.

Life is Hitting Us Hard

As usual, the holidays came and we all caught some sort of horrible bug.  We've been out of commission for about a week now with various levels of sick, although Little Man has been miserable much longer than the rest of us. About a month now. We even ended up taking him to Urgent Care, because his cough started to get a horrible whooping sound for a few days. He was given steroids, cough syrup, and a diagnosis of croup. Yikes!

Luckily they said it wasn't very contagious, unless you shared food or drink immediately after him.

Two days later, Vegas was a snotty, sick little mess.

Oh little boys...

STOP BEING CUTE, HE'S FULL OF GERMS!

Because Little Man is sick and miserable, his behavior has been really out of whack lately too. His normal stimming and head-hitting has escalated to full blown punches to the left side of his head when he's angry. He leaves big red marks all down the side of his face, and screams bloody murder while he does it. I'm sure it hurts, which is a problem, but it is also really scary to watch. When he does the hitting in public I have to brace myself for not only his actions, but my own reaction as I sense people watching me to see what happens next. I never let the people-watchers dictate my own actions - Little Man is my child and I know when he needs to be redirected and pushed through an activity and when it's time to cut our losses and bail. But it stings to feel those eyes on you and your child, for sure.

I know there will be a time when Little Man is too big to pick up and hold, and too strong for me. I can feel it coming every time I lift him into his chair at dinnertime. So I worry all the time that this hitting phase will be permanent and that there will be a time where he will cause serious harm to himself or others, and that I won't be able to fix this. And of course right now it's too early to tell what will happen in a year, or five years, or ten. But I still worry. Because that's what mommas do best. Love and worry.

Right now, the hitting is only a problem when he is mad, and he only hits himself. So we're talking with his behavioral psychologist and trying to decide how best to handle things. I have a feeling that our psych trips will increase after we see him again this week and let him know our progress. Which is okay. We are okay.  And Little Man is okay.

Things had just been really smooth for awhile there, and so this feels like a huge setback. Behaviorally Little Man has developed leaps and bounds from where he was even just last year, but this just... its rough. Every once in awhile I just feel so overwhelmed with this one.

My Little Man being a lovebug at the doctor's office.

But this is also my Little Man. This cuddly little love-bug of a kid, who lately has been crawling into our laps at night when he gets tired, just to be held for awhile. The kid who never once hits his brother or is mean to him, despite how much Vegas is in his face all day long. The kid who loves to run his hands over beard stubble while he looks lovingly into your eyes.  This crazy, adorable little guy.

I love this little guy, and today I want to just look at this picture and remember how much he melts my heart even when it's been a long, hard, month.

Just keep stimming, just keep stimming... what do we do we STIM and STIM

If you aren't too familiar with the special needs lingo, "stimming" is short for self-stimulatory behavior.  It is seem a lot in autistic kids - the flapping of hands, rocking back and forth, spinning around...  The list is endless.  Technically most of us running around this planet stim in our own way, maybe you twirl your hair or jiggle your leg under the table when you're anxious (that's the one I do that drives my godmom crazy!).  The difference is that most of the time when we notice ourselves doing these things we can and will stop them. Kids like Little Man don't have that "off" switch to stop stimming and so... they don't.  They can stim all day long and since it feels great, they see no earthly reason to stop just because we say - hey, watching you do that is driving me insane and/or is a terrible idea!

I've written about a few of Little Man's stims before, but as he grows and changes so do his stims.  For a long time he loved to rock and bounce.  He still occasionally does the jumping on the couch but as he's gotten bigger I think the pillows aren't at the right height for his head any more and so he has really cut back on that particular stim.  One of his more difficult ones to control was when he liked to put his hands to his throat and hum, sometimes pinching the skin of his neck while he did it.  I'm very happy to say that after approximately 10,000 times of us saying "Little Man, NO HANDS!" and redirecting him to other choices - he no longer does this particular stim.  HURRAY!   He has moved on to constantly having his hands on his ears, not a stim really, he just avoids paying any attention to us or the noises around him this way.  But with his hands on his ears he doesn't have time to hum and pinch.

His newest obsession is the green music button on Vegas' exersaucer or the button on Vegas' bear-toy learning thing (obviously I am a pro at describing children's toys).  As far as stims go it's pretty benign. It's just annoying. as. crap.  Every five seconds you hear the horrible screech of some sort of Chuckie child singing "I AM A BEAR A HUNGRY BEAR A HAPPY BEAR A SLEEPY BEAR"... And eventually after a few hours my eye starts to twitch and I get really pleasant to my husband.  So we turn off the exersaucer and hide the bear, and Vegas' gets the short end of the stick on having cool musical toys because his brother steals them and makes them unbearable for the rest of us.

We have a big basket of Vegas' toys that I can take out for him to play with during the day and hide when Little Man gets home.  It's the only way to prevent Vegas' toys from being chewed up and spit out, literally.  I accidentally left out a set of those teether car keys and when I found them an hour after Little Man had gotten hold of them they were completely destroyed.  *Sigh* Chewing is still Little Man's biggest sensory thrill.  He tears the crap out of board books and chewy tubes and pillows and window ledges and ... really anything that is within biting distance.  Surprisingly he still has pretty nice looking teeth, but we'll see when he starts getting permanent ones...

I leave you with an outtake of a photo I took of the boys "playing" together (also known as, 'How many times can I press the button until Mom moves me away from the toy?').  I call this outtake "Lemme See Those Teef!"

My Little Hero

Little Man has been in school now for a month - and it has been pretty much the best thing ever.  I spend lots of quality time with Baby Vegas during the day, and Little Man is loving school.  I think.  He comes home every day exhausted but calm - and eager to get back in front of his tv with an afternoon snack.  But no tears or tantrums at school or on the bus, so that counts as a win in my book!

His Parent/Teacher conference was this Monday, and his teacher had nothing but positive things to say about his transition into school.  He loves books and has a couple favorite reading spots in the room where he goes to stim and "read" with them - similar to what he does at home.  His therapists say that when he grabs a book it usually means he is done with sitting still and needs to unwind from the lesson.  He is getting better with doing tasks (putting blocks in a container, taking them out) for longer bursts of time too.  There is a smartboard in his class that he really likes, so they are thinking that they want to work with him on the iPad as his communication tool in the classroom. 

His private therapy lessons have continued at home too - he gets PT and OT once a week before school.  It makes Wednesday and Thursday mornings very intense for me, because I am trying to juggle getting the therapist anything she needs, taking care of Vegas, and getting Little Man's school bag ready.  Sometimes I have to drag Little Man out of bed if he's been up all morning and fallen back to sleep.  Or I have to rush him into a quick shower if he peed through his diaper or (ughhh) took it off during the night.  Then later I usually have to remind the therapist that we need to book it out of the door for him to catch the bus.  Today was the first day we were nearly late - as we walked out the door with the therapist to our "bus stop" (the end of the driveway) I saw the bus making its way down our road.  Despite the hectic mornings though I think his private therapy is too valuable for him to stop, and with him not getting home until 4:30 in the afternoon it has to be mornings.

Getting ready to leave for school!  Shoes off for the car ride (this was pre-bus)

 

His private OT and PT are using the mornings to work on basic tasks like getting into his car-seat on his own, walking up and down the hill and bus stairs, or dressing and feeding himself breakfast.  OT is also pushing to start a therapeutic listening program because the noise getting on the bus is still very overwhelming to him.  At $900 to start that though, we aren't sure when or if that will happen.  Not to mention the very basic problem that with his sensory issues Little Man refuses to wear headphones unless you are holding onto both of his hands.  That would make for a painful 30 minutes for Momma.

Hubs and Little Man walking home from the "bus stop"
 



If I am being totally honest though, my favorite part of Little Man starting school is seeing him mature into a "big boy".  I thought that would be the hardest part for me, with his special needs he has always been my baby, even as I watched him mature physically.  But now every morning instead of staying in his special jammies, I get to pick out a "big kid" outfit.  He takes his Ninja Turtle backpack to the end of the driveway where he waits like a big kid for the bus.  And then he climbs the stairs holding the rails and his para's hand, and walks confidently onto the bus - he doesn't even look back anymore. 

Alright.  It might be my favorite part, but writing that made me tear up a little.  My baby is in there somewhere you know...

No pinch, no pinch!

This old commercial has been on my mind lately, because Little Man is driving me up a wall with his pinching.    He pinches all the time now, and it's starting to be a major concern for me.  If he's really excited, he'll grab you by the skin under your arm (don't act like you don't have chicken wings) and pinch.  Hard.  He has no concept yet of his own strength and every pinch is like he's practicing for that carnival game where you test your grip strength.

We're always careful when we excite him at home, because we've been used to his biting - the precursor to the excited pinch.  Trust me, one big chomp to your thigh during a tickle fest and you learn to protect yourself really quickly.  But as Grandma learned from experience last weekend, even a big bear hug can be too exciting and lead to a bruise the size of a lime under her arm.  Anger is the other emotion that can lead to a hard pinch, and he does not discriminate between himself or you when he gets really worked up.  Today at the grocery store he ended up pinching his own neck skin in a fit of anger that left a huge red mark.  The rest of the time he was pinching at me because he did not want me touching the cart handle for whatever reason.

With family it is easy to shrug off a bad pinch and/or warn them that something is about to set him off.  But lately as we take him out and about more and more, I'm worried that he is going to pinch the wrong person and upset someone.  Even more worrisome is that during one of his tantrums he'll hurt himself unintentionally.

So far the only solutions we have are squeals of "NO PINCHING" and/or pulling his hands away from his neck if he is trying to go for a pinch there.  If he's throwing a particularly bad tantrum we use a technique called a basket hold, where we wrap his arms around his chest and bear hug him for 30 seconds.  He hates it, and so it is supposed to make him not want to pinch again.  I don't know how much is getting through, but I know it's been a long, tedious process so far with very little in the way of results.

So if you see me with a few bruises this summer, rest assured everything is fine at home.  I'm just raising a kid who is part angry crab.

April Truth

Welcome to April, the month where nothing happens and the weather is ridiculous.

This last week has been a whirlwind of activity - a couple of therapy appointments for Little Man, the Passover dinner we went to (the food was amazing, the company awesome), and then Easter which we split between Hubs' family during the day and mine at night.  For awhile it felt like we never stopped moving!  This week promises to be a lot more laid back, which I am absolutely ready for right about now.

Therapy has been going well for Little Man.  He seems to be liking the new PT, and she is willing to work around his little quirks.  You know, where he can't walk too far from the t.v. and he needs constant fruit-snack rewards.  We're down to maybe one or two mini-tantrums a lesson, which is a huge improvement from last year when the lesson was a giant tantrum the full time.  

At his behavioral appointment, his doctor seems pretty concerned right now for poor LM's teeth.  The chewing/biting/gnawing is out of control, and there is nothing we seem to be able to do to stop it.  He gave him another Chewy Tube which he loves, but it still doesn't distract him from the fact that everything looks so delicious nom nom nom!  Even with the Chewy Tubes and designated chewable toys, Easter weekend alone had him chomping on the following non-edible items;

* The side of the dining room table at the Easter brunch

* The decorative pillows on Grandma's couch

* The bottom of the one remaining sippy cup that does not leak

* The edges of his DVD player, and also the electrical cord that powers it

So we've got another appointment in two weeks to see the doctor again and talk about how the attempts at distracting LM from "non approved" chewing objects works out.  That, in addition to the miles of paperwork I have to do to prep for his IEP and therapy evaluations with his coordinator (I have over thirty pages of diagnostics and forms), setting up visits with ortho/hemo/dentist/pediatrician, and then my own appointments to follow up on Baby Vegas - whew.  I guess I really need to redefine "laid back"... at least for this week it means that most of this I can do with a phone glued to my ear, laptop on my lap, and stuck on the couch...

The One With Anxiety

Not mine, Little Man's.  Although his anxiety is causing me a ton of anxiety, which in turn is making Hubs kind of bonkers.  But it begins with Little Man, unfortunately.

We had another visit with his behavioral psychologist last Friday, and mentioned some of Little Man's newest quirks;
* TV shows that he loves one minute are incredibly upsetting the next, to the point of him collapsing on the floor in hysterical tears.  This can come even after we've watched the same show on  loop for 3 hours - suddenly whatever is happening is no longer good.

* Hugging himself and pinching his arms when he is upset about something.  To the point where he can bruise himself.

* Crying so hard in the middle of the night that he can't calm down, for seemingly no reason.  He'll cry so long he loses his voice.

*Periods of time where he is laughing hysterically at something and then seconds later is melting down in a puddle of tears.


We'd been chalking up all the behaviors to Little Man being four years old.  Ya know, he's had too much sugar and is a wild child today, or he's been up for too long and he's so tired...  He hates that episode of his show.  He doesn't like that sound, or food, or ambient lighting.

But his psychologist is concerned that a lot of these behaviors are actually labile mood swings, which he assured us are very common in children with brain injuries.  And also that Little Man might have some anxiety issues that might be resolved with medication.

*Sigh*

I know it isn't a bad thing to need medicine to manage psychological issues.  I know that if we put him on medicine and it doesn't work, we can take him off it again.  I know that if it is actually an anxiety problem holding him back from further development, then I will kiss this doctor and thank my lucky stars that we found a way to help Little Man.

But I hate the idea of medicating him.  It brings me back to Little Man as a newborn, completely sedated with phenobarbital every day.  It makes me think of how hard I had to work to find Keppra and beg doctors to release him to our care despite the fact that liquid Keppra is apparently equal in cost to liquid gold, and there was no way we could pay for it on our own.  When I hear the word "medicate" all these memories swirl around my mind and overwhelm me again.  I feel hopeless and like I'm not doing enough for Little Man.

I don't like that I feel this way, but I do.

And so Little Man is going to head back to Kennedy Krieger to get evaluated by some of their specialists, and they will determine what plan of action and what medication would be best for him.  More doctors, more driving, more therapies.  It is a never ending cycle.  I am feeling a little blue about it today, but hopefully my anxiety about Little Man's anxiety issues will be resolved soon.

*Bigger Sigh*

In better news, Hubs is doing well, I am doing well, and we're enjoying life as it is settling back into our "normal" routine.  I have one more weekend of playing clarinet in a pit orchestra with our local theatre group, and then we are heading to visit family in Wisconsin for a couple of days.  Christmas will be here before we know it, and Little Man's bedroom is slowly coming along!   Just keep swimming...

The One With Presents And Heartache

I'm taking a break from updating about the wedding to talk about something that always weighs heavily on my mind this time of year.  Jim from "Just A Lil Blog" touched on it today and now I can't stop thinking about it.

Christmas presents are hard.  Any present for Little Man is really hard.   Every year it gets harder and harder to buy him things that he will show any interest in...  Or that is appropriate for him to play with at his developmental age.

We have piles and piles of toys laying around the house for him to play with.  There is a toy organizer that has books, blocks, light up toys, pop up toys, ride on toys... every toy you can imagine, we probably have one.

Unfortunately, Little Man gives no &*@#! about toys.  We'll wake him up in the mornings and lead him over to the boxes of shiny new toys and he walks away to bounce repeatedly on the furniture and hum to himself.  If I (gently) force him to play with a toy, I can sometimes get 20-25 minutes of (constantly interrupted) guided play before he loses his schmidt.  But there is nothing that holds his interest, or that he seeks out on his own.

Every year just before his birthday or Christmas come the phone calls.  "What would Little Man just love for Christmas this year?!!"

In past years, I tried being creative.  "He loves Thomas!  Get him Thomas toys!"  But then we end up with train sets geared for 2 years+ that sit untouched in his closet with their teeny tiny plastic parts.  

Then I got a little smarter, or so I thought.  "Toys for 18 months or younger, he chews everything."   Most of those toys are sitting in our toy pile, occasionally chewed on or played with Mommy/Little Man/therapist style.

His birthday in July was the first time I finally accepted what I'd known all along.
"Little Man does not need toys or books or anything kid related.  Clothes or gift cards would be great."

Of course, he ended up getting some toys from well-meaning friends and family.  And I tucked them away in his closet, hoping that one day I will get the chance to pull them out and watch his face light up with joy.  I want so badly for him to be able to play with anything, enjoy something other than endless repeats of Thomas DVDs.  But Little Man is who he is, and he likes bouncing around watching trains on television, and toys would just be a distraction from his daily jumping routine.

So for Christmas this year, Hubs and I aren't buying Little Man any more toys that will remain untouched, or books that he will rip to shreds, or stuffed animals that will get their faces chewed off.  We are redoing his bedroom with bright blue paint.  We are putting up wall decals of his favorite trains.  We are getting him a brand new Thomas rug and Thomas sheets, and a "big boy" bed to put them on.  We are getting him a Dutch door for his bedroom to make him safer at night.  (And by "we" the grandparents and great-grandparents are helping too, that's a lot of big ticket gifts for a four year old!)

He won't open these gifts on Christmas morning, and he won't hug us and tell us what great parents we are for getting him exactly what he wanted while he plays with the toys for hours.  But I think that when he sees that giant Thomas the Train looking at him on his pillow, or his wall... he will walk over to it and just stare for a minute or two.  And he might even give him a kiss.  And then I will know that we got him something really wonderful for Christmas this year, even as it hurts my heart a little to watch him walk away as we unwrap our gifts without him.

The One With the Jumpsuits and the "P" word

No one likes pooping in their pants.  At least, most of the people I've talked to don't enjoy it.  And no one likes cleaning up a kid who has pooped their pants.  That one I can confidently say is a fact.

Little Man does not do well with dirty diapers.  He really hates them.  Whether or not it is sensory, or just plain ole' common sense - I couldn't tell you.  But his philosophy is, if it's dirty, get it off me - NOW.

The first time you wake up your little precious from their nap and they've had a "poopcident" - well it sucks.  You are grossed out, freaked out, you clean everything up and tell everyone what a horrific event it was... and if you are lucky, it will never happen again.  You think it was a one time deal brought on by sickness or a shower that went too long (more than your usual 5 minute prison shower) or whatever it is that prompts kids to try it just this once.  So when Little Man had his first poopcident two years ago, I went through the routine, cleaned him up, and prayed it would never happen again.  Hahahaha.  I was so stupid naive hopeful.

It wasn't a one time thing.  Anytime Little Man pooped during the night, he would wake up and take off his diaper.  Every. time.

So we started using onesies.  But he learned that he could get around those.  Yuck.  And then pajamas with feet.  They could unzip.  Or how about overalls?  Nope.  Not enough protection, you can slip your hands right back into the giant armholes.

I was at my wits end.  Every day involved copious amounts of Lysol and Clorox wipes.  And lots of laundry.  Of course, this was in the beginning of the Year of Vomit (ughhhhh another story) so I was always doing laundry.  And I lived in a slightly less affluent neighborhood than I do now (understatement of the year) and did not have access to a washer and dryer.  They were conveniently located in a little building across from my house, which was kept locked from dusk til dawn to keep out the unsavory sorts that might be lurking around the apartment complex.

In short - life was hell.  And everything smelled kinda bad.  Then I had this idea...

I took one of the footie pajamas, and snipped off the feet.  Flipped it around - and voila!  A jumpsuit only a desperate mommy could love.  The zipper behind the back kept it on, and the elastic around the ankles made it impossible to get his little hands up his pants leg.  It was a miracle.

Exhibit A: The Jumpsuit

 

 

There have been other prototypes of the jumpsuit through the years.  During the first summer we attempted a sleeveless model which did not work out (armholes again).  And there was another one where we cut the legs a little shorter (too loose, easy access).   But the only one that has worked is this design here.  The elastic on the wrists and ankles means it is too tight to get up inside, and the backwards zipper means only Mommy and Daddy can take it off.

 

So everyday, all day, if we are in the house Little Man is wearing his jumpsuit.  It's not really very flattering.   But it works.  If Little Man goes while I'm doing the dishes, I don't worry that I need to drop everything and run to him.  We can put him to bed at night without fear of waking up to a very unpleasant surprise.  The grandparents have been godsends and done lots of research on bigger and bigger sizes of the pajamas, so we have enough that he should last until he gets too big for the 5T sizes.  Then it's a whole different ballgame.

 

Just a little FYI on why the next time you come over, my kid will be wearing a weird outfit.  Feel free to borrow the idea - I haven't patented it yet.





The One That Bites

Little Man has what can only be called a major problem with mouthing.  "Mouthing" being the watered-down and socially approved word for "chewing on everything not nailed down."  It's ironic only in that he is also the pickiest eater I've ever seen.

When it first started three years ago it was kind of cute.  He'd be flipping through the pages of his little cardboard books and then nosh on the pages every so often.  Then he had these chubby little plastic toddlers from Little Einstein... they got their heads nibbled on while he watched tv.   Then it was the coffee table.  Or pillows.  Stuffed animals, the bottoms of bowls or sippy cups... anything that could go in his mouth was fair game.

The kid from Lemony Snicket's got nothing on Little Man

All his therapists and doctors told me it was no big deal.  "Most kids go through this stage, he's going through it a little later because he's developmentally delayed."  "Give it time, he's exploring his world."  So we gave it a little more time.

The cute little nibbles and bites became vicious with the addition of more teeth.  It got fun for him to hold a book in his mouth and tear it to shreds.  His plastic crib guard that we'd gotten to protect the wooden crib was destroyed - and then so was his crib.  He had leg and hip braces he was supposed to wear during the night that he chewed through and pulled out the metal screws with his teeth.   Oh, and then he chewed up (and spit out, he never eats anything) the foam inserts for each one so we couldn't even fix the braces.

When Little Man would get really overstimulated or excited, he would chomp down on anything that was in front of him.  It was all in good fun, unless he bit you.  Then it really, really hurt.  Innocent bystanders that thought it would be fun to tickle him or blow bubbles during a therapy session were the recipients of Little Man's "love bites" more than once.

It's been three years and Little Man has not outgrown the mouthing stage. By now we barely notice the accommodations we make for his chewing needs, but from the outside looking in I'm sure our parenting methods are slightly unorthodox. 

• Chewy tubes, teethers, and chewy toys.  Many bath toys work especially well since they are that smooshy plastic that feels almost like a dog toy, but cute enough to drag around in public.  We have all the Thomas the Tank bath toys, a Caillou bath toy, and a dozen chewy tubes.  These work sometimes if there aren't too many other distractions like the seat belt of the grocery store cart that is more interesting to chew on.

• When those options don't work, we go to Plan B - The Nose Pinch.  Since Little Man has amazing jaw strength from three years of chewing nonstop, we can't always yank the grocery cart seat belt out of his mouth when he gets the urge to chew.  And sometimes its an emergency situation, like when he latches on to a nice neighbor's fancy dining room table or his grandma's beautiful leather couches.  Plan B is exactly like it sounds - we pinch his nose.  He needs to breathe, so he releases his jaw.  If he is latched onto a human, we also remember to push (gently) into the bite instead of trying to yank away (which tears skin).  Obviously this works only if you're remembering this as you're being bitten, which is only about 50% of the time.  I can't take credit for Plan B, it was on the advice of one of the nice doctors at Kennedy Krieger who gets bit on a daily basis.  But I thank her mentally just about every day.

• We also have Chew Proofed our house to the best of our abilities.  We found soft crib bumpers that are made of heavy duty fleece with a waterproof lining beneath it, and they are much safer than the plastic ones he breaks through.  Any small toys are out, for gifts at birthday time we usually ask for cardboard books or toys appropriate for 12 months.  Stuffed animals are fine, but not ones with button eyes, removable battery packs, or button batteries.  We hide our shoes, especially flip flops, which are apparently delicious.

One of the best ways we cope since Little Man has started chewing is to keep a sense of humor.  Sure, its probably odd that my son chews on what looks like a dog toy during dinner.  It's better than your napkin.  I know I'm ignoring him chew on the handle of the shopping cart. I just disinfected it with Lysol wipes because I knew that would happen and that there was nothing I could do about it.  And I usually laugh at your awkward faces when I pinch his little nose to make him let go of my purse straps.   It's a nice purse!  Oh... and finally I will say I'm sorry that I flinch sometimes when Little Man tries to kiss me on the arm or leg.  People have mentioned that its really strange for them to watch.  I've just been bitten too many times to trust him.   I swear he gets plenty of snuggles where I make sure his teeth are facing away from me. 

This stage stinks.  I try everyday to think of better ways to get through it.  But its not the end of the world, and we'll be fine.  We're hoping it stops before the permanent teeth come in.

The One Where It's One of Those Days

It is one of those days.

You know.  The kind where you went to bed really late because the internet was full of surprises.  And then the kid woke up at 5:45 am.

Hubs had to leave for work anyways, so he gets ready while also trying to convince Little Man to stay in the crib and go back to bed.  Hahahah, not a chance.

So Mommy and Little Man are up at 7:00.  There is cleaning and work to be done, breakfasts to be eaten.  By the time I finish and head to the store.. its 10:30. 

Little Man doesn't like missing naptime.  He's angry.  I'm tired.

The screaming begins around Aisle 2.  Him, not me, but I'm not far behind him if I can't figure out how to make it stop.

I never know what the best course of action is when that happens.  We need groceries, so leaving isn't the option.  Sometimes we play a little pretend... I talk to him in a nice mommy voice, and pretend like he's contemplating stopping.  90% of the time I do this is for when the other shoppers give me that "Handle your child" death-stare.  But this is always futile... he's gonna scream until he gets what he wants, which in this case is a fluffy bed far away from that guy who is noisily grinding coffee beans or the other screaming baby which is flipping every sensory overload switch in Little Man's body.  There is no reasoning with Little Man.

So I do the only thing I know will stop the tantrum, and race to Aisle 4.  Granola bars.  I rip open a box, and let him have at it.

Then comes my favorite part.  That's when the Little Old Ladies appear.  You know, now that he's not screaming. 
"Let him cry it out next time honey, thats what I did with my kids." 
"Hard day hmm?"
"Shopping during naptime?"
"(to Little Man)All done now right sweetie??!!"  [Side note: Being addressed by the stranger makes him start screaming again]

And I have to smile and nod politely, and listen to stories about when their children were little and screamed in a grocery store, and get more helpful parenting tips... and I JUST WANT TO GO HOME AND TAKE A DAMN NAP AND DRINK MORE COFFEE.

Just one of those days.  Where he passed out in the car on the ride home, and so we missed naptime.

The One About Food Choices

My son loves to snack.  He avoids "regular" mealtimes by constant grazing.  That's cool, I'm down.  That is ideally how I like to eat too, but I have this creature called Hubs to feed and he likes dinner after work.  And then I eat with him, and then we have wine... and that's why I'm going to have a beer belly forever.  Oh well.

But Little Man has more fun up his sleeve than just not wanting to sit down for dinner.  His food has several LM approved requirements to be considered before tasting:

* It must be completely dry.  There are very few exceptions to the dry rule.  He will eat bananas, only if I hold it in the peel and he can take bites off it.  He will eat applesauce out of a squeeze pouch, but not off a spoon.  Although, counter to that rule is that he will eat the applesauce IF we pin him down, hold his head, and force him to try a bite.  Then he will take future bites ONLY during that meal.  Even if we take a break from applesauce til dinner, that process starts up again.  And yes, I've done it more than once out of desperation, because dammit I KNOW HE LOVES APPLESAUCE.  Other than that, if a food is wet and he touches it, it will immediately be tossed to his left.  Chicken nuggets?  Awesome.  Slightly soggy nugget that does not pass the dry test?  To the left.

* To further clarify the spoon rule, nothing from a spoon will go into his mouth without a full body hold.  Soup?  HAH.  Ice cream?  NOPE.  Won't even open his mouth.  I've decided nothing on a spoon is worth that much effort.

*If it is bigger than a Cheerio, attempts will be made to crumble it no matter what it is.  Frosted Mini Wheats become Shredded Wheat.  Fig Newtons become fig jam and mush.   Bread is peeled apart into smaller and smaller crumbs until it looks like we're feeding ducks in the living room. 

*Protein is in the form of nuggets (chicken, very rarely fish), peanut butter, grilled cheese in tortillas or bread.  That is it.  See the above rules.  Also, sneaking meat into a grilled cheese sandwich or tortilla is not allowed, he will pull apart the pieces during Step 3 (crumbling) and you will be discovered.

*Fruit snacks are the ultimate favorite food.  They trump all other treats.  He does not discriminate brand, size, shape, or level of staleness. 

*If you manage to get something in his mouth somehow, but it does not follow one of the rules listed above (say, a little ball of rice you've disguised as a bread ball), he will stick out his tongue, and scrape it off.   That is embarrassing in say... a nice Japanese restaurant.  :)

To sum up, Little Man eats:

-Breads
-Cereals
-Fruit snacks
-Nuggets (specifically the kind from Costco in the huge bag)
-Grilled cheese/cheese tortillas
- Food from a squeeze pouch
-Cookies/crackers/chips/granola bars
-Banana


And that's it.  All day, every day.  I buy healthy granola bars, whole grain breads, and try to give him lots of "better" cereals and crackers.  Lately there has been a huge increase in the amount of baby foods that come in pouches, which has been nice (although they are insanely pricey for so little food.)

He drives me batty.  I love to cook.  I would feed him amazing gourmet meals if I could.  Dammit I would love to just give him grapes and a hot dog!!!  (Cut up into safe pieces ya worrywarts).  But I tried making homemade nuggets for him and they did not pass Rule #1, so they went to the dog.

So when I'm out with you and I complain that Little Man doesn't eat anything, or you see me feeding him two bread rolls at a restaurant and calling it dinner... Just know I'm trying.  I swear, I'm trying.

The One Where I Admit to Being Tied to the Tube

If you come over on any given day of the week, at any time, the television will be on at our house.  I have a serious love of the Food Network and crime dramas, and yes, the occasional show on TLC or Oxygen.  Hubs loves his movies and if...er... WHEN he gets up before I do, he's usually watching one while reading his paper.  And now there is a tiny tv on the side, for the Little Man's viewing pleasure and for my sanity.  Once Hubs and I spent an entire evening quoting children's dvds to each other, it was decided we needed two tvs.

I found out when Little Man was about a year old that the television was the only thing that could soothe the tantrums and screaming.  I tried everything that the baby books recommended first, letting him cry it out, rocking, soothing, food, changing him, long walks, drives... nothing.   Tantrums with Little Man at a year old were hours long, to the point where he'd lose his voice from screaming so much and burst the little capillaries by his eyes.  If a stranger was in the house, he would spend the entire visit in tears.  Nothing got done, my ears were ringing, and the stranger usually never wanted to return.  The poor Infant and Toddler therapists tried so hard to get him to warm up to them, but it never happened.

Then one day I caved.  There was this magical preschool channel - Sprout.  It played all day long, and the programs seemed responsible and geared toward the needs of preschoolers.   And I turned it on...

And the screaming stopped.  Certain shows, like the quieter British ones (Thomas, Kipper the Dog) really got his attention.  He was so happy and so content, it was like the heavens had opened and the sun was shining down on us.  Okay I exaggerate but if you'd seen even one of his tantrums back then you'd know how I felt.

So we started leaving the tv on when people would visit.  The therapist was excited to finally work with him.  Friends enjoyed a glass of wine and good conversation with me while he watched his show.

So we thought... lets do this everywhere!!!  Restaurants that had been formerly off limits were open again when we bought a portable DVD player.  After splitting with Ex, I could take Little Man with me to the dentist or doctor and set him up in the big Graco stroller with the dvd player attached and he would sit quietly for a couple hours while I got my teeth cleaned. 

It was an amazing discovery.

Then came the naysayers.  "Your kid watches too much tv.  He needs to play outside.  He needs to interact with you more.  You are stunting his growth."  I didn't want to be "that mom".  You know, the one the other mommies judge and say nasty things about behind her back.  The one with poor parenting skills.  I already was the baby of the mom groups.  Now here I am, letting my kid watch tv ALL DAY LONG!?!?!   Ugh.

But when I turned it off, the tantrums were back.  The exhausting crazy tantrums that never stopped.  Or a new development that started to alarm me.  He would press his hands into his throat and hum loudly to feel the vibrations.  He could do it for hours, laying on the floor while his eyes unfocused and he stared into space.  Til I turned the tv back on and he was dancing and 'rocking out' to the Wiggles or Thomas.

[Rocking out is our polite phrasing for rocking back and forth, since when you say "My son is just rocking out, no big deal" people react less strongly than if you say "Oh yeah he loves to rock back and forth for hours slamming his back into the pillows, no big deal".]

In desperation I turned to one of the only docs that Little Man had ever warmed up to - his behavioral psychologist.  He sees him twice a month to help with communication, but we'd originally started with him when the tantrums were at their peak.  I asked him what to do - how to be a better Mommy that didn't let her kid watch tv for hours a day. 

And he said the words that I repeat to myself when those other moms give me the judgey look at my child getting a portable dvd player whipped out of the diaper bag as the screaming starts:

"You know your child best."

What is better for Little Man?  Hours of staring off into space, chewing on the pillows or pressing his hands into his throat because it is entertaining to him?  Or maybe watching some Dora and somewhere in there learning something, maybe one day being able to respond to her stupid open ended questions.

So television it is.  We have graduated from Sprout (since our Dish Network doesn't give us that channel) to DVDs and the occasional PBS.   We watch them incessantly, on loop for hours.  We take breaks of course, to do therapy games and eat snacks, run errands... but his attention span on games and snacks is maxed out after a half hour.  So its back to the tv and more Caillou or Thomas.  He has toys and books of course, and with the tv on he can multitask with chewing on those or pressing buttons on a toy for a moment or two.  He also "runs laps" which is where he runs around the house in excited circles or bounces on furniture for a little bit til he comes back to his tv.  But mostly a contented day for him involves several hours of his 2D friends.

So here is my blanket apology to all the parents of the typical four year olds I see out at restaurants, or at the grocery store when Little Man just can't take any more of the stimulation of new people and new experiences.  The ones who shoot me dirty looks while their kids beg for their own table top tv or to be able to sit with our family and watch some Thomas the Tank Engine.  I'm sorry we're television addicts.  But the withdrawal just isn't worth it.

The One Where He Tantrums

Yesterday was my fiance's birthday celebration, so we went out to a great restaurant in Baltimore with the whole family.  He loves their crabcakes, so its worth the crazy long drive.  The Little Man only spends every other weekend with my ex, so we're always taking him out to dinner or wherever we're going and its never really a problem.  I should add "any more" to that sentence, because he was the WORST dinner companion ever as a 1-3 year old.  He hates loud noises, new people, and new places... so for awhile any time we took him out of the house he'd scream bloody murder until we went home.  Yeah that was a fun two years.  But he hasn't had any major public meltdowns in a good six months or so, so we were pretty secure in our decision to take him out with us.

Anyways, we went out to the restaurant and somehow in the car Little Man had managed to wet his pants.  A) Gross.  B) Uhhh... now what?  He's typically a very safe bet when we go out and never has diaper issues.  So the men head off to the bathroom to get all cleaned up, and there is (of course) no changing table to be seen.  I peek in the women's room and there is no changing table there either.  A kind restaurant employee lets me know its in the handicapped stall.  Lovely, as there is already a line of women waiting to use the restroom. 

So into the bathroom we go to wait our turn... and the dryers.  Oh the dryers.  In LM's defense, they are loud for me and I have no sensory issues.  One blast of the dryers and the screaming begins.  And here come the judgey looks.  I don't want to pick him up because his pants are wet, and so I am patting his head and letting him bury his face in my legs.  But the LM can't stop screaming and is freaking out at this point, so I suck it up and and try to hold him as he screams and kicks.  More judgey looks.  Little Man is four, so when you look at his little face screaming and see him kicking his momma and pulling at her hair, you might just see a bratty little guy throwing a tantrum to get what he wants.  I've said it to many people over the years - the problem when I go out with LM is that he doesn't look disabled in any way.  So for whatever reason, people think they have the right to toss me nasty looks or judgey faces at the way I parent my little guy in public.  I also don't think it helps that I look about eighteen years old, but thats another issue.  But with Little Man there is no way to convince him (unlike an actual bratty kid) that something he feels scary is not, so you either get him away from the scary or deal with the noise.  And wet pants meant dealing with the noise.

Little Man is kicking, screaming, and I am smiling politely at the old ladies in line and waiting for the one in the walker to finish up in the handicapped stall.  I've told every lady in line that we are waiting our turn for the stall, and they glance away awkwardly so as to not get scream on their nice dresses.  The little old lady in the walker edges out of the bathroom, and one of the ladies who has been giving me the rudest looks sweeps into the handicapped stall with a backwards stink eye to my son who is defiling the sacred bathroom with his screaming.  Great.  At least five more minutes of this.  At this point I am trying hard not to run out of the place screaming myself.  I wish people realized sometimes that yes, I am just as embarassed for me as you are...

We finally get our turn in the handicapped stall and Little Man is scared to lay down on the changing table.  He is fighting me tooth and nail and the screams are getting louder (if that is possible, or perhaps the echo was worse in an enclosed space).  He's pinching my arms to get me to pull him up or off the table... By the time I get him changed, my nerves are shot to hell and we exit the bathroom which has somehow miraculously cleared out.

Hubs (I know we aren't married yet, but it is my favorite nickname for the guy.  Sue me! )  is waiting outside the bathroom with a pained look on his own face.  He sticks a fruit snack in the kid's mouth and the screaming stops.  "I was about to send a little old lady in with these for you but I never thought it would take that long."

We get to the table and its like the bathroom never happened.  The server commented that he was the most well-behaved child she'd ever seen.  Which is our usual compliment when we take him out, he usually sits quietly and eats cheerios while we have long dinners.  People are baffled that he doesn't ever get antsy or cry.  Anyone that wasn't in the bathroom thought he was an angel.

I got a mimosa.  Screw the environment, hand-dryers are the work of Satan.