PT, Day One.

We had Noah's physical therapy evaluation today. That was...fun. If you will remember, and as I have whined about a number of times on this here blog, we had Noah evaluated by the state back in late November for potential complications from The Fracture (PTSD, GO AWAY).  He didn't qualify outright for state services but we learned a lot about some of his delays and coordination "concerns". And by learned a lot I mean we started noticing that he was having trouble climbing, running, jumping, etc. At the time, the state therapists thought we could take a wait and see approach to his delays...give him some time to catch up to his peers and have his teachers keep him active and moving. A couple of weeks ago his teachers approached us with concerns that he was falling farther behind rather than catching up. They spend the most active time with him so we knew we had to figure this out sooner than later. Two days later we had scheduled his evaluation with the PT department at Children's Memorial Hospital (they really are fantastic).

Cut to today and a confusing evaluation, even by the therapists' standards. Noah is jumping, climbing and walking just fine, a little weakness in his left side was noticed but nothing that extra time at the playground and being active at home couldn't help. However, as soon as they asked him to run, and oh he tried so hard it brought tears to my eyes, he was failing on all counts. He's throwing out his left leg. He can't run straight to save his life. He looks like he's in PAIN when he runs but when asked if it hurts, he says no. I believe him. The PTs were confused, we were confused, and Noah just wanted to go back and play with the cars. How can he climb, jump and walk with such normalcy but when it comes to running everything just falls apart? It's strange.

We go back next week for a more in depth evaluation and hopefully the PTs will be able to come up with a plan to help Noah, to help us. I know he'll be just fine and when I look at him I see so much happiness and joy in his face. My boy is special, we already know that, and perfect just the way HE is.

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Side note: I spent about a half hour in the waiting room by myself while Tim and Noah were on their way to the appointment. I observed babies with helmets, toddlers with braces on their legs, and kids in wheelchairs. Our little problem with running is NOTHING compared to what these families deal with and overcome on a daily basis. My heart went out to them and to these kids who are amazing. I know we're lucky. Very lucky.

16

weeks, that is. Trucking right along and wondering where I hid my pregnancy pillow. Mama needs her "boyfriend" to help her sleep.

Yes, we plan to find out what we're having and yes, Noah still thinks it's a robot. May 11 is the Big Gender Reveal Day so mark your calendars.

The first of many parent-teacher conferences

We had our first parent-teacher conference last night and I think I have been set up for a future of disappointing conferences. This conference set the bar so damn high that we'llprobably never reach it again. True, this is 2.5 year old preschool so we're not talking junior high (oh dear) or high school (hold me). I fear any conference that follows will always start out with "Noah is such a pleasure to have in class but..." and then trail off into "concerns" and "potential". I've seen the movies, I know plenty of teachers in real life. So, while I can, I'm going to brag a little about my kid and his school, fair warning.

 

Tim was held up at work so it was just myself and Noah's three teachers chatting around a teeny table and sitting in primary hued elf-size chairs. I found this immensely funny because it was just like I imagined it would be, except this time I'M THE MOM in this scenario. It was...surreal. Noah's teachers, Miss D, Miss S, and Miss L, are the three most lovely women I have ever met. They treat the kids in their room, all 20 of them, like they are their own. Hugs are doled out by the minute, tears are always wiped and acknowledged and boo-boos swiftly kissed. I never worry that Noah isn't getting the attention he needs or deserves. I knew these women were special when the first words they said at the conference started out with "Noah is positively one of the most wonderful children we have ever met and we will be so sad when it's time for him to move to the 3 year old room. He is so special and we love him so much." And then...nothing. No "we're concerned about..." or "he's not doing this or that very well". Just smiles and nods and a continued conversation about how wonderful my son is. 

 

Obviously, again, this is 2.5 year old PRESCHOOL. I wasn't expecting any grave concerns about Noah mixing up the letters of the alphabet or learning better impulse control. It's just that...it's so rewarding to hear three people, who are not related to your child, extoll his virtues without bookending the conversation with anything negative. I clearly know my child is a rockstar (what? you don't think that about yours?) but to hear other people think that and tell you brings on the warm and fuzzies. It also reminds you that your child really is special and not just to you, but to other people in his life.

 

I will be forever grateful to Noah's first teachers. They may never see this space but I hope we properly and effusively convey our appreciation of, and to, them. They make going to work so much easier each day and return to me a happy, well-cared for little boy at the end of it. We went through trial and error to find this school and we're so very lucky. I'm so happy he'll be staying on for preschool this fall and reaping the benefits of even more teachers who love him and cherish him. It may never be "just like mom and dad" but it's a damn close second.

Men like bullet points and numbered lists

Now that Tim has taken a full-time job with one of his clients (let me just say, halleluah for a salary!), he's been home earlier in the evenings and generally more available to help around the house. This is a good thing, a very, very good thing. Yes, he still sighs when I ask him to load and run the dishwasher and still comes bounding up to me after he completes a household task reminding me he did it and would like some recognition (which usually gets him a Girl Scout cookie...I kid. He gets them himself.) However, though he's doing things I need done and being generally helpful, there are still things I need to teach him about how our household works.

 

Dear Darling Husband, Love of My Life:

 

1. Unless you go to Trader Joe's, apples are sold by the pound and not individually so it doesn't make a whole lot of sense to buy the BIGGEST apples as you are ultimately paying more and our two year old can barely eat half an apple. Buy the medium size ones and only buy three at a time.

 

2. Always buy two loaves of bread and two gallons of milk. Yes, it seems like a lot for three people but YOU eat sandwiches everyday and drink a huuuuuge glass of milk every night. With your Girl Scout cookies.

 

3. We don't buy Diet Coke unless it's on sale i.e. $3.50 or less for a 12 pack. $5.50 at CVS is NOT acceptable even if you are going to die a slow, painful death by caffeine withdrawal. Or get the 2 liter for $1.00 and deal.

 

4. The washing machine has a lot of little buttons but I have pre-set them all so all you have to do is throw the load (that has already been separated) into the machine, add the detergent to the little drawer at the top, and push "start". Close the laundry room door. I promise, it is THAT easy.

 

5. Speaking of laundry, the detergent is concentrated for a high-efficiency machine so you only need to use a third of a capful. Any more and you will drown us all in bubbles.

 

6. The clean clothes folded in the laundry room are not the only ones Noah owns. He has a dresser and closetful and I worry his teachers think he only has three shirts and two pairs of pants. Feel free to experiment when you're getting him dressed in the morning...I promise that he'll look cute regardless.  

 

7. Also, Noah does not always get to decide on "oatmeal and raisins" for breakfast. Who's the boss around here?

 

8. The cleaning supplies live in the cabinet next to the sink. The old rags for cleaning live there too. I put them together to make it super easy. Feel free to use them as necessary.

 

9. The vacuum is purple and lives in the laundry room. It's that tall thing that makes a lot of noise and sucks up all your cat's hair. You plug it into the wall and turn it on and push it around the floor. Noah can show you how it's done. He's a master.

 

And a shout out:

10. You do a fantastic job emptying the dishwasher and not complaining when I reorganize our cabinets without telling you. This is my most dreaded task and thank you for doing it without asking (anymore). You're earning major husband of the year points.

What's it gonna be, Mama?

We had our 12 week genetic scan today. I think I’ve been holding my breath for weeks and only this morning did I slowly let it out. One long whooooooooosh. Our risk for Down syndrome, trisomy 13 or trisomy 18 is less than 1 in 10,000 which, as the doctor explained, is the lowest risk we can be assigned. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried leading up to today. I’m a worrier. It’s what I do.

The scan showed us a healthy, thriving baby kicking its little legs and holding its hands together in a prayer position all the while measuring almost a week ahead. We saw its tiny heart beating and it stretch out to accommodate the tech’s desire for a nice crown to rump measurement. At one point both Tim and I thought we spotted another tiny little pee-pee but the tech refused to confirm. She smiled and told us to wait for that special day as it’s coming up sooner than we think. For now, we’ll be grateful for a (hopefully) healthy baby, regardless of gender, though I think I see pale pink and flowers fading farther into the distance.

I feel like I can start recognizing this pregnancy for what it is: completely wanted and totally unexpected. I’m in deep, deep love.

Noah has been riding the train of adorable toddler behavior lately. He’s been accommodating, sweet-tempered (most of the time), and creating the most fun little stories plucked out of his imagination. On Sunday, during our drive home from my parents’ house, he told me we had to be on the lookout for a blue flamingo. There isn’t a blue flamingo on any sign or statue anywhere between my parents’ house and ours. It wasn’t until we were halfway home that I caught on to the “pretend”. I love the “pretend” play and listening to the stories he crafts out of his busy brain.

The preschool nightmare is over, I think. We’ve been waitlisted at the three schools we applied to and are not at all surprised at that outcome (one parochial, one public (but high-risk/low-income kids get first pick), and one private, fancy-schmancy school). It was expected with the ridiculous school competition we face in this city. So we have put our (very, very non-refundable) deposit down at his current school and plan to have him attend in the fall. He loves it there, we love it there, it’s not at all affordable but we know it’s a good place. The director brings him into her office occasionally to “help do the mail” when really she tells me she just wants to hang out with him. That makes my heart swell.

Now I will wrap this up with a visual of what Noah really thinks about being de-throned as our one and only:

Why yes, that IS a saw in his hand. 

Elsewhere

Hop on over and visit me at Style Lush around noon today...I'll tell you all about my very favorite cheap drugstore haircare product!

See you there!

Bad/Good

Bad decision: A chocolate candy bar with an Oreo chaser for a mid-afternoon snack.

Good decision: Five gallons of water consumed today (or thereabouts).

Bad decision: Pre-pregnancy pants with the Bella Band. Constant rear end slippage.

Good decision: Wearing long tunic-type top to cover above mentioned slippage.

Bad decision: Leaving phone where toddler could find it.

Good decision: Catching it moments before he threw it in the toilet. Mommy instinct for the win!

Bad decision: Waiting to eat until husband got home and ending up all sorts of cranky.

Good decision: Sending husband back out for chinese food immediately upon his arrival home.

What were your good/bad decisions for today?