I Know You're A Neurologist... But... HELP!

Last Wednesday Little Man finally had his follow up with his neurologist. We'd had to cancel the last one because Hubs went out of town for work and I was flying solo with the boys and no sitters, so we'd been waiting since mid March for this appointment.

The logistics of getting up to Hopkins is always a nightmare for us because we live so far away. It ends up being four hours round trip, not including the stop at the end for a Costco run. And as tedious as the drive is it really isn't the worst part. The worst part is getting Little Man to walk through the massive hospital when he won't keep his shoes on, has to stop and lean on you every few moments for a rest, and needs constant redirection to keep moving at his snail's pace. And if you've ever experienced a toddler cling, a giant nine-year-old cling is ten times as heavy and just as frustrating.

So I opted to bring the beach wagon, as a way to hopefully bypass the taking off the shoes and slow walking around. Definitely wasn't ideal, definitely wrenched my back dragging 65 pounds of stroller and kid. But it was better than not using anything. More on that later.

We met with neurology for his med check and all things brain. His doctor upped his medication levels despite no seizures recently because Little Man had a pretty big weight jump from the hospital stay. He also thinks that we will probably continue with the medication for at least two more years, if not for his lifetime. The risk of seizures with Little Man is now just too great. With his foot and muscle issues on my mind however, we ended up talking mostly about what our next steps were and if we could use Hopkins as our point of contact.

The neurologist was amazingly patient and walked me through way more than he is obligated to... and when he didn't have an answer he took the time to ask his boss to figure out more ideas. I freaking love residents. I've had plenty of bad experience with doctors, but residents rarely let me down.

So about that foot... we have to call our insurance company, find a specialty pharmacy that will ship the Botox to my house, and then I have to bring the Botox to a doctor who specializes in physical rehab. That doctor will do the injections, which should loosen the muscles enough to get an AFO or cast on the Little Man. Botox only lasts for 6-8 weeks, so we're probably looking at more than one set of injections, which is a four hour round trip to the doctor's each time. What a nightmare! But all of the doctors agree, Little Man is slowly losing the ability to walk, so it's a non-negotiable.

We also are getting a prescription for more physical therapy and a transport chair (aka, stroller for big kids) to help us cart Little Man around without using the wagon. PT is of course at Krieger in Baltimore again, so we're looking into a class I can take as a caregiver to be able to do the stretches and exercises at home. Hopefully I could learn a few exercises and talk about them with his school therapist as well, since they've backed off so much of the physical therapy in his IEP.

We've barely scratched the surface of what comes next for Little Man and I'm already an anxious, hive-covered mess. For someone who hates talking to people on the phone and who has major panic attacks doing highway drives, so far this is making the next few weeks look hellish.

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.

Family Weekend

This past weekend we won a free trip to Williamsburg from a timeshare company and headed out there for a great couple of days with the boys. Since we are very wary of flying with Little Man, we're always excited when we can take him places within driving distance. Although considering we drove to Wisconsin last winter, driving distance is actually a pretty loose term.

The stipulation of winning a "free" stay at the condo meant we had to listen to a timeshare lecture, which ate a good chunk of one of our days in Williamsburg. Despite that though, we managed to go out to dinner as a family, spend a full day walking the streets of colonial Williamsburg, visit the outlets, and even take advantage of the giant jacuzzi tub we had in the condo! Well... Hubs and the boys did. I sat on the sidelines and laughed at boy's swimtime.

Our major worry heading in to the weekend was what to do with Little Man at night. At home we have our routines and our safety measures in place for him, but hotels are a whole different ballgame. Luckily Hubs' parents had come up with a fairly ingenious solution for when they watched Little Man while we were in Las Vegas, and so we decided to try it on a larger scale at the condo since it was a 2-bedroom unit.

Bed Jail!

The baby gate/playyard went around the entire bed, and we kept it snug using the end tables on either side of the bed. Surprisingly enough Little Man didn't try to get out of bed or even move the end tables to release the gate, which weren't expecting at all! So he stayed in the 2nd bedroom all night and kept to his usual schedule. Hurray and score one for us!

Vegas was another story. He was not pleased with his sleep option - a pack n play in the living room. The first night he cried for several hours while we tried everything we knew how to get him to relax and sleep, and even after finally getting him down he woke up once or twice during the night. That did mean that the next night he was so exhausted it only took a half-hour to get him to bed, but man were we exhausted after night one! We were shocked it was Vegas and not Little Man who kept us up all night, but kids are always surprising little beasts so go figure!

All in all it was a really fun weekend away, despite a little rain and Little Man's refusal to pose for photo ops.

Cold and rain didn't phase him!

Not a fan of the forced photo. Sigh.

The day after we got back we decided the weather was perfect pumpkin patch/apple buying weather, so we headed to a local farm to grab a wagon full of autumn.

Not exaggerating, a wagon full.

The boys probably had more fun here than Williamsburg because we let them explore at their own pace - although Vegas seemed unsure of what to do with all of his freedom...

Perplexed

Little Man was just pleased we let him wander around and clamp his hands over his ears as much as he wanted. It's the little things in life.

Dance like nobody is watching

And while Hubs got in a cute photo or two, I got shafted again with photo ops. Oh well, I'll have beautiful memories, right?

JUST HOLD STILL AND ACT LIKE PINTEREST KIDS!

After the pumpkin patch we headed over to a local winery with my in-laws and then had them over for chili dinner. I don't think we could have crammed any more activities into the weekend!!

By Monday morning we were exhausted and had to use the conveniently placed national holiday to recuperate from all the vacationing. We binge-watched Survivor and caught up on the DVR while eating leftover chili. 

It was really one of the best family weekends we've had yet. Sometimes I can't believe how lucky I am to have these boys and marvel at how much my life has changed in just a few years. We are all so, so lucky.

Getting Through Dinner

This video showed up on my newsfeed this morning.  If you're like me and don't enjoy clicking back and forth on a phone, I'll sum it up for you. The ABC program "What Would You Do" did an episode about a child being taken out to lunch with his family.  The child in the program behaved as if he had autism (repetitive words and wandering, among other things) and then ABC waited with their hidden cameras to see what diners would do.  When no one reacted to the boy's behavior, they used another actor to instigate some trouble - he acted offended and gave advice to the family (ie; take your kid home or discipline him.) The entire diner then rallied behind the family and the actor that was being rude was encouraged to leave the diner amid cheers and clapping.

I cried a few times watching the video.  Probably because I'm really over-tired from a fun yesterday of wine tasting and grilling out with my in-laws.  Also because I cry at commercials and kids movies.  But honestly I probably cried a little because it was great to see people doing the right thing by this family, whether it was a real situation or not.

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Taking Little Man out in public is always risky.  We do our best to prepare for any possibility, but sometimes it just doesn't want to work. Little Man chooses seemingly on a whim the days where he will be a reasonable companion to our outing, and something that worked to calm him the week before will suddenly no longer work.  Our diaper bag has more distractions for Little Man than diapers and formula, and we are constantly finding new items to carry with us that might just help us during those crucial few moments before a tantrum becomes a full-out meltdown.

Last weekend we took Hubs out to dinner for his birthday to a crab shack that is way out in the boonies.  We'd been there a few times before, and it's great food and short wait times - basically a good place for dining with kids.  We packed up the diaper bag full of snacks, toys, and the portable DVD player and were all set for a great lunch.  Until we sat down and stuck Little Man in the highchair.  Nope.  Not having it.  He was screaming bloody murder, and we took out the Last Resort - the magic DVD player.  And it broke.  And because we were out in the boonies, there was no WiFi to stream a movie on our phones.

We were in the back corner of the restaurant, but the screams were loud and then he started hitting his ears and head (extreme meltdown mode).  So Hubs grabbed his beer and the Little Man and they went outside to cool down.  Ten minutes go by and we think we've got the DVD player working again, so they come back in.  The DVD player works for a few minutes and then it breaks again, leaving Little Man in tears. Not even the allure of fruit snacks is stopping this tantrum.  They go back outside and hang there until dinner arrives and we decide to try one more time.  For whatever reason, third time is the charm and we make it through dinner.  Crisis averted, I guess.  We got to eat dinner, and it wasn't cold.

When  I was waiting for Hubs to come back inside the second time, the woman from the table next to us stopped by our table and leaned down to talk to me.  "You're doing a great job", she said, and then just smiled and walked off.

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As strange and awkward as it might seem to offer that sentiment to a complete stranger, I wish more people had the courage to say something.  Because it really helps.  It helps when you feel like everyone is staring, and everyone is judging you for not having your kid "under control" and not "disciplining him".  It helps in those horrible moments in the grocery store where you just want to melt into the floor because you know that it isn't "normal" for a six year old to be sobbing uncontrollably while wiping his tears into his mouth and chewing on his fingers.  It helps when you are watching your child slap his head and face, and you're wondering what the dozens of watchful eyes are thinking to themselves as they stare at your family in the checkout lane.

We live this situation in varying degrees all the time, and it is very, very real.  That horrible diner from the video that is judging that family is out there, and he embarrasses you and breaks your heart sometimes.  The "it takes a village" mentality about being able to shame all children (yours or not) into behaving while they are out in public is mortifying to a parent of a child with developmental disabilities.  People who know nothing about your child find it extremely important to tell you what you are doing is wrong and that you aren't parenting properly. Despite the happy message of the video, it is much more rare for me to encounter a person who simply supports us, builds us up, and reminds us we aren't alone and that even though it looks bad today - we are doing a great job and things will be better tomorrow.

Just think about it next time you see a family struggling out in public.  Think about how hard they are working to be "normal", or even to just get through this one outing, this one afternoon. Think about it before you give them a dirty look or roll your eyes because they are disrupting your life somehow.  I promise that most of those families wish you weren't inconvenienced by them as well.  I promise that most of those families wished you never even noticed them.  We're just trying to get through dinner too.

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.

The One With An Explosion

Yesterday was our follow-up appointment at Little Man's clinic.  Of course, I'd made this appointment three months ago, and so was completely surprised totally prepared when I got the automated reminder call the night before.  We were to discuss the changes we've seen since I started him on melatonin... um... three months ago.

*Crickets*

Yeah we still haven't started him on melatonin.  A multitude of reasons, mostly my sheer laziness at finding a pharmacy that carries the liquid form (they don't) and then leaving the prescription there to order it (whoops did you need his insurance card?) and then not being able to find his insurance card (um it's red with a big Medicaid logo?) and changing insurance providers (REM FTW).

Laziness though, mostly.  Little Man goes through spurts of sleeping through the night where I decide it isn't necessary to add medicine into our daily routine. Then he goes another two weeks without sleeping and I get motivated to get the prescription.  Lather, rinse, repeat.


It was a fairly typical appointment, the doctor came in and questioned us about life in general and gave us 4 new specialist numbers to call.  Then she reminded us he was due two vaccines and left at 3:45 telling us we'd be seeing a social worker and a nurse before we were allowed to leave.

Nurse came in a few minutes later to stick the Little Man with his shots.  Obviously he hated them, and I rewarded him for the screaming with about 6 or so graham crackers, applesauce, and fruit snacks.  I read the vaccine warnings and tried to figure out a game for Little Man to play that wasn't as gross as his favorite activity of smushing his face against the dirty office mirror.

We waited and waited... I fed him more snacks and prayed I wouldn't run out of food.  I let him play the mirror game.  By 4:45 I gave up and burst out of the room in a fit of anger.  Looked up and down the hall and there wasn't a soul to be found in the clinic except a little old lady doctor.  We'd clearly been forgotten.  I bit my tongue and informed her we were leaving and to have my doctor email me please.  She seemed shocked when she saw my form (it says your arrival time) and asked me to wait just a moment longer and she'd see what had happened.  Lovely thought lady, but I'm out of patience and your head is detachable.  We left.

So my GPS gave me a lovely route out of the city where I had to smoothly reach for the car lock button as I tried not to look panicked... and we made it to meet one of my bests for dinner at TGI Fridays by 5:30.

I savored the glass of white wine and fried appetizers (I'm nothing if not classy) and got Little Man his favorite restaurant meal of chicken fingers and fries.  He ate all the fries, a granola bar or two, and some fruit snacks.  He smiled hello at the little old couple seated at a table close enough to us that we could hear their conversations.  It was all going so well.  Until I looked over at Little Man and he was turning a little green...

I guess we'll never know what sent him over the edge.  The copious amounts of snacking that day combined with vaccines that had "may cause nausea" as a side effect is my first guess.  But suddenly I was holding the basket of chicken fingers under his mouth as he vomited out the entire days worth of snacks.  Seeing it seemed to gross him out enough that he pushed the basket away and was ready to bolt... except he needed to do it again.  Ughhhhhhh. 

Little Man was now smiling and looking much better sans stomach contents.  Well, looking less green tinged, but now he was covered in vomit.  The nearest bathroom was on the opposite end of the restaurant, and the place was packed.  It took me a solid minute of staring before I could figure out what we were going to do next. 

The little old man reached over and handed me a stack of napkins as my poor friend K offered to pay the check so we could run out the door in shame.  Luckily we were hidden away in the back corner of the dining area so I pulled myself together, whisked him out of the highchair and whipped off his shirt.  Wiped him down with the inside of the shirt and the handy wipes they give you for buffalo chicken wings.  Tossed it all in his backpack and stuck him in his jacket as we walked calmly through the restaurant and to the parking lot, his jeans covered in vomit and me pretending like this was totally normal.   And that it totally wasn't vomit.

We drove the two hours home while I prayed that it was a one and done deal.  It was, thankfully.  He got a warm bath and a quick snuggle before heading to bed and sleeping a solid 8 hours. 

And you thought the explosion was going to be me at that doctor's appointment.   Silly you.

The One With So Many Mistakes In One Photo

Remember that time I warned you that it might be impossible to take a good family photo? 

I wasn't lying.

We went to Target a few days ago to get our fall portraits/Christmas cards done.  They did a decent job last time and the photographer was willing to work with our... unorthodox methods for getting a decent photo out of the Little Man.  Since the same photographer was going to be there for this set of photos, I had high hopes for success.

We got there just as a Nice Young Woman (NYW) was finishing a job interview.  The Original Photographer (OP) remembered us and walked us back into the room where you get photos.  NYW speaks up and asks if she could "help" the OP with our session.

Mistake #1.  OP agrees.

Now we all know that Little Man hates loud noises.  He also hates strangers.  NYW did not know that Little Man hated both, she just saw your typical whiny four year old who did not want to sit still for a picture, and was being bribed with fruit snacks to even stare straight ahead.  I'm standing behind the photographer singing the Itsy Bitsy Spider song quietly, because it normally elicits a giggle if I do the voices right.  Yeah, there are voices to that song, I can teach them to you later.

Mistake #2. NYW thinks I am not singing loudly or perkily enough, so she starts singing the ABC's at the top of her lungs and shaking a rattle.  A mother-ducking rattle.  I bet you know what happens next.

So Little Man is freaking out, dealing with two strangers and loud noises and being left in the center of a room without anyone picking him up while he is freaking out... And then...

Mistake #3.  NYW tries to tickle Little Man.

Well that goes over about as well as could be expected.  Which is that it doesn't.  At this point, I tell NYW to please back off, Little Man has special needs and she does not know him. 

"Oh have you tried feeding him a gluten-free diet?"

What the what?  SERIOUSLY lady I'm trying to keep him from losing his schmit and you're asking me about his diet as if that might be affecting his picture taking skills today? 

"I know that my son really loves calculators.  You should give him a calculator, I bet he'd really love it."

Is this really happening?  Please don't make me lose it.

Mistake #4.  OP is only snapping one picture every minute.  And every third picture has a piece of NYW's head in it as she is reaching in to the frame to snap her fingers in Little Man's face (Lord give me strength) or "make him laugh".

I suggest we take a break from the traditional portrait and stick Little Man on a little log thing with a pumpkin in his hand.  Mostly because I need to quietly hint to NYW that she is a little much for Little Man to handle, and also to get all the eyes off him so he can calm down.  And he'll love chewing on the pumpkin stem.

NYW takes this time to inform me that her son has special needs too, and that is why she knew so many things.   I had kind of already figured.  She offered to teach me some basic sign language and started signing random words to "teach" me.  I politely let her know that we already sign at home and use a PEX system right now. Then I smiled extra wide to indicate being happy and well-informed on things because I was starting to develop a tension headache and we were running low on fruit snacks. 

OP decides then that it is time for a couple of family shots.  I thought I had dressed for success in a plain black t-shirt, since I would be photographed from the waist up. 

Mistake #5.  Taking full body portraits.  Hellooooo muffin top.  Also my hair was looking sad and wonky, which was news to me.

Have I mentioned that Hubs was here too?  He was apparently too busy being pissed at OP for Mistake #4 to notice how much NYW was annoying the crap out of me.  Neither of us noticed the other was about to lose it.  Man, are we in sync as a couple.

Mistake #6.   Timing was way off.  Little Man was minutes away from passing out from exhaustion, and he was not having any more of this nonsense once he realized that these strangers were all going to be all up in his business.

So we struggle through about six or seven more minutes of poses, and Little Man finally just gives up.  He is a mess.  My nerves are shot.  Hubs keeps chiming in with the ever helpful "I think we're done, I think we're done."  And I know we haven't gotten a single picture I'm happy with, but ya know what?  We're done.  We're so, so, done.

We had coupons for 50% off the entire portrait package, so we knew we'd get a couple sheets of Little Man's best poses.  And the OP guilted me into buying an 8x10 of the "best" family shot, because we needed one.  I'm such a sucker.

Oh.  I guess you want proof that these photos are as horrible as I am saying they were.  You're thinking... "They can't be THAT bad."

[Put down the drink.  Just in case.]

 

 

 



 Merry Christmas.

The One Where We're Famous At Target

I decided to call and make our appointments for Christmas card pictures today, because my planner told me to.  I love this thing.

We use coupons for everything we can (a dolla makes me holla honey boo boo) and I happened to have two coupons for free portrait sessions at Target and some sort of package deal.  Score.  Then more magic happened.  Let me put it in a play for you:


Scene: Exhausted Mom looks at the planner in her hand.  Damn.  Christmas cards.  She sighs.  "You're right though Planner, I will not remember to make an appointment for pictures before the wedding, there is no time after the wedding... GAHHH!!"

*ring ring ring*

Me:  Hello, I'd like to make an appointment for a portrait session on Friday.  If that is available.  If not, then maybe next Friday?  Or whenever, it's really up to you.  Just tell me when to show up.

[That is actually exactly how I sound on the phone, I am incredibly awkward and have a fear of anyone who works in retail.  I know.  It's weird.]

Target Employee:  Okay... Friday at noon is good.  How many of you are there?

Me:  Three.  Two adults and a child.

TE:  Okay and how old is the child?

Me:  Um he's four, but more like two, he's going to um... be really difficult and will not listen or follow directions or smile....

TE:  Wait... were you guys here last year? 

Me:  We were the family with the gummy bears...

TE:  YES I remember you guys, no problem, see you Friday.

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*Sigh*

Last year's portraits were not so much a shining example of beautiful family time so much as... "Dammit we are a family and you will be in this photo if it KILLS ME!".   I had warned the photographer that getting a photo of Little Man smiling was not nearly as important as getting a photo of him looking at the camera and where Hubs and I looked great.  Because getting Little Man to smile on cue is next to impossible.  Of course, he also chose that day to have a massive temper tantrum.  So I bribed him to stop screaming with fruit snacks.  Lots of fruit snacks.  4 bags, if we're being honest.

I give it a B- for effort.

 

Hubs and I look great, although I am doing that thing again where my eyes get tiny when I smile.  Little Man is looking at the camera.  His hair is... passable. You try combing that!!  But if you zoom in really close... you can see evidence of our bribery right there in his open mouth.  Whoops.   Whatever, it's going above the fireplace.

 

On second thought, I give this a B+.  Especially when I consider what our pictures might look like this year.



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 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.