Slipping Through My Fingers

Kerry here...I'm not even going to try to apologize for the delay in posting.  Life is hectic, it seems pretty non-stop, and there are days where I have to choose between time to shave my legs, or time for breakfast. However, I have a few minutes of blessed quiet time.  There's a great breeze coming in, the sun is shining, and my lunch of Cup-o-Soup and Dr. Pepper seems to be doing the trick.  So here I am!

Some of you know that my Little Dude is receiving speech therapy.  Tuesday was his third session, and so far he is running through with flying colors.  It's nice to go once a month-it gives me a touchstone of sorts to see his progress.  We live with it every day, and so we're used to his quirks and progress.  But when they see him, it's a celebration.  He asked for juice instead of just hauling me into the kitchen?  Hugs from the speech therapist!  He jumped with both feet together?  Applause from the physical therapist!  Look, he's using pretend play!  The OT gives everyone high fives!  I love that LD gets the extra cheers from them-The Dude and I celebrate any new achievement, but I think we forget to keep cheering after a while.  But we never stop being proud.

We also seem to work with him non-stop at home.  Parents in this program always have "homework", to keep the momentum up between monthly sessions.  It can be challenging to hold LD's attention, and it can definitely be time-consuming, but it has really paid off.  His therapy team know I blog, and they actually encouraged me to discuss what we do.  There are exercises to help him gain a greater, deeper awareness of his body.  Those exercises are what has led to learning to jump, labeling his own body parts without needing a mirror, and his sudden ability to tell us when he has to go potty.  We coach him to say "no" and "mine", which amuses me because it seems that those are viewed as bad words in toddler land.  It's hard to teach a child to share while simultaneously telling him it's okay to say "mine"!  We've taught him sign language, and we're now working on imitative play.  We repeat the same words endlessly.  And there's the "sensory diet", which is a series of five activities meant to stimulate nerves, work muscles, encourage movement of the mouth, measure fine motor skills, and to encourage a mess.  For example, we'll start by bouncing on an exercise ball while singing a song about bouncing on the ball.  Then we'll do some deep nerve stimulation by doing joint compressions.  After that, we'll blow bubbles, then stack some blocks, then end with finger painting.  And our reward is watching our son open up a little more every day.  I'm not complaining about what we have to do-we are so very lucky to have a wonderful team to teach us and help us, and we're grateful that our little guy is otherwise happy and healthy.

At this last session, as LD was playing with his therapy team, I was pulled into a meeting with Jeffrey's coordinator, his rep from the county, and a rep from our local school district.  Once LD turns three, he'll be receiving treatment from the school, assuming he still needs it by then.  He has the option to receive home therapy, or to be sent to a preschool.  This preschool is located close to home, is staffed by what sounds like a wonderful team of educators and therapists, and is in a new, modern building.  The classes have 16 children-8 with varying special needs, and 8 "peer model" children.  It would be 4 days a week, in sessions of 2.5 hours a day.  I was okay with all of this, until the school rep said that we could choose to have LD bussed.  As she was telling me about these cute little buses with special car seats and an assistant to help buckle him in, and a very patient and friendly bus driver, all I could see in my mind was my baby (who suddenly seemed very tiny) being whisked away by a bunch of strangers, potentially crying every day for Mommy, and all I could do would be to stand on the sidewalk and wave.

My internal hysteria must have shown on my face, because the rep quickly backed off the talk of buses.  She reassured me that I could drive LD if I preferred, I'd always be welcome to observe and visit, and I don't even have to do school yet.  And I know-I KNOW-that school would probably be the best bet.  LD would get some much-needed interaction with other kids.  It would be such a boost for his self-esteem.  But...all I could feel was the sensation that time was slipping away, my baby was slipping through my fingers, and that one day very soon, I'll wake up to see a kid who doesn't need Mommy as much as Mommy may want him to.  Does every mother feel this??  I know he'll grow up, that it's my job to help him grow up to be the very best person he can be, but I am not ready for this at all!

I suppose all I can do is try to work through my own hesitation and fears, and be as ready as I can be when the day comes-maybe sooner, maybe later-that I have to let my baby go.  Bannon, in true best friend style, listened to me wail, insisted that it's totally normal to wail, and promised to be with me whenever it's time to send LD off to school.  I know it's dumb, but going to school seems so...final.  Like he'll get on to the bus a toddler, and get off of the bus as some older, alien child, and my baby will be gone forever.  I know that can't be true.  My mother refers to me (still!!) as her baby, and I'm sure she'll see me that way for the rest of her life.  And it suits the two of us just fine.  So, in the meantime, I'll stop worrying about what I'm losing, and focus on the times when it's just our little family, seeing life through the eyes of our boy.

By the way, no matter how much I whine about losing my baby, I won't miss diapers at all.

My Special Guy

Greetings, all!  Kerry here, feeling guilty for not writing all week.  But y'all got lucky-I have a cold, and feel down enough to want to do any of the many things around here that need doing.  So I'm blogging.  Aren't you all just so lucky?

Anyhoo, I had recently posted on my FB page that my Little Dude will be starting speech therapy and early intervention therapy next week.  I got a lot of responses, and most of them were something like, "Say what?  He needs that?"  People seemed kind of surprised that I was excited about it.  After seeing all that, I realized that I had never set down the story of why this is a big step for us.

When the LD was 3 months old, our pediatrician at the time had us take him for an MRI.  His head growth was in the 99th percentile, while the rest of him was squarely at 50%.  The MRI came back showing a significant gap between skull growth and brain growth, and the pediatrician diagnosed the LD with hydrocephaly.  The pediatrician, being an older, kind of crabby gentleman, immediately gave us a worst-case scenario.  Our Little Dude would have significant speech and motor delays, requiring intensive therapy.  It would be something he would struggle with for the rest of his life, which, by the way, would likely be shortened by this.  He told me all this over the phone.  Needless to say, I was slightly hysterical.  I can remember the Big Dude and I sitting on our bed, LD laying on it between us, as we cried and tried to make sense of it.

After the initial shock wore off, we were on the phone with the pediatrician, demanding more information.  He had us come into the office after hours so he could show us the MRI.  He focused on the need for monitoring and therapy in the near future.  We would have MRIs done every 3 months.  We had a list of symptoms to watch for.  We were connected with our local Help Me Grow center, so we wouldn't have to wait for services when the predicted delays began.  He told us he suspected this was caused by a scare we had when I was in my first trimester, where I had begun to bleed and had to go to the ER to make sure everything was okay.  I don't think I've ever felt guiltier for anything in my life!  And while we did feel more positive after that visit (except for all that mommy guilt), all we could do for our son was to watch and wait.

Big head, little body, happy baby.

Our day to day lives went back to usual.  LD grew and thrived, meeting all of his developmental milestones right on time, except for lifting his head and rolling over.  That was dismissed by our neurologist as normal-how could we expect that tiny body to lift that giant noggin?  But LD was happy, and our biggest challenge at that time was finding shirts that would fit over his head.

As time went on, and we had more MRIs under our belts, the unexpected happened.  His brain growth began to catch up to his skull.  The excess fluid that was filling the gap was being harmlessly absorbed.  At first, we were told this meant a shunt to drain off the fluid wouldn't be needed.  Further consultation with the neurologists took place.  We met with a new specialist.  BD and I had our heads measured, our family histories taken, and were quizzed on Jeffrey's development.  All this resulted in a changed diagnosis-benign macrocephaly.  Or, as the specialist put it, "Congratulations!  He just has a big head!"  She then asked to use his case history for a presentation for the state's neurological society, as well as for possible future publication.  We giddily gave permission.  We knew we weren't out of the woods yet, but we were just so relieved.

Life went on, as it does.  We moved.  LD learned to walk, then jump.  We both started new jobs.  Holidays were celebrated, cars broke down.  LD colored on the windows, learned his letters and numbers, and became Murray Wiggle's number one fan.  MRIs happened, the results were always good.  As of today, the only issue he has is difficulty taking all the words he knows and using them to communicate with others.  We had him evaluated for therapy services just a few days ago, and I was almost sick with anticipation.  I was so afraid that there would be more wrong with him than we realized.  Thankfully, all they want to work on is his speech, and then give him a bit of a boost with socialization skills-it's tough to make friends when you can't communicate with them.  They told me the results, and I was just so grateful.  I feel like we've dodged a bullet with him.  And I know this all may sound shallow-compared to some of the things other children have to cope with, I feel like I'm making a fuss over a splinter-but I can't forget the fear and anguish I felt when I was told that initial diagnosis.  He's my only child, he will always be our only child, and hearing that it's just a speech delay is almost like a gift.

Next time on V3, Kerry will refrain from long, serious posts, and will discuss homemade Christmas gift ideas!

The Day I Learned to Love My Machine...

Way back in 8^th grade, many years ago (24 years, to be precise, and it won’t be discussed further, thanks) I took a Home Economics class.  I learned many skills that I still use, such as how to make a mean French toast, how to cross stitch a sampler, and how to starch and iron a dress shirt.  However, I totally failed to grasp using a sewing machine.  I tried to make a simple, straight skirt, and ended up sewing it together.  Next, we made stuffed animals.  I sewed my hair to my teddy bear.  I was bad enough that my home ec teacher, bless her, tried to console me by telling me that “not everyone is cut out for it”.  I’ve been scared to try since.

Fast forward those 24 years that I still don’t want to think about too much, and I am now the owner of a sewing machine.  Big Dude’s aunt gave it to me about 2 years ago, and it has sat and gathered dust until today.  I have friends who are divine costumers, and while I have envied their abilities many times, I have never tried to learn.  But today, I hauled it out to try hemming up some baby wipes.

My darling 2 year old, Little Dude, has been having some chronic diaper rash, and we finally linked it to commercial baby wipes.  We decided to try homemade wipes for him, and I am pleased to say that the rash has cleared up nicely since we started.  However, the flannel wipes tend to fray, and I was getting sick of picking bits of flannel lint off of our clothes, floor, and LD’s backside.  Since the idea of hand sewing 48 wipes wasn’t appealing, I hauled out the machine.

It took me longer than I care to admit to figure out the very basics-how to get power flowing, how to get a stitch started, etc.  But I did figure it out, and I sewed probably 4 or 5 wipes before I realized that there must be some way to regulate how the fabric feeds through.  So I whipped out the manual, which conveniently comes in both English and French, and began to flip through.  I saw that there was something called a presser foot, but couldn’t figure out how to lower it.  So I soldiered on, sewing a few more, until I caught sight of a lever on the other side of the machine.  Behold, the presser foot was down!  My loopy and irregular zig-zag stitches took on a more uniform appearance!  I sewed happily until I ran out of thread on the bobbin, and managed to finish all but 4 wipes.  It’s probably a good thing I ran out of thread, because I now want to sew EVERYTHING.

In case this inspires you to want to sew everything, making your own wipes and solution is easy as pie!  All you’ll need to start is a half-yard of flannel, and a pair of scissors.  Simply fold and cut your flannel in halves until you have a decent stack of wipes sized pieces.  Once you have your stack, whip out your trusty sewing machine.  Choose a nice stitch to go around the edges of your wipes.  A chain stitch would work, or something similar.  It’s a little time consuming, but very cheap and easy.  If you really want to skip all the cutting and sewing, inexpensive baby washcloths will also do the trick.  I bought the flannel almost solely because of the cute monkey and soccer ball pattern.

Once you have your wipes down, make your solution!  I use 1.5 cups of water, 2 T of baby wash, and 2T of baby oil.  Putting the oil into the water before you put in the soap seems to keep the bubbles down to a minimum.  Put it in a spray bottle, and either spray directly onto baby, or onto the wipe.  If you prefer a pre-moistened cloth, simply cut the solution recipe in half, stack your wipes into a Tupperware container or wipes tub, and pour directly onto the wipes.  Let it sit about 10 or 15 minutes, then flip the stack over.  Whenever you use a wipe, make sure you squeeze out the excess back into the box.  If your wipes seem to be drying out, just add another batch of the solution.  I store my used wipes in a large Ziploc bag, and machine wash them in hot water. 

These make a really cute (and frugal) baby shower gift!  Find an appropriate fabric, wrap the finished wipes up with a cute ribbon, and put a matching ribbon on the spray bottle.

If you don’t know anyone who could use baby wipes, but you still have the urge to sew rectangles, you could make homemade fabric softener sheets the same way!  Only difference is, you’ll definitely need a plastic tub to store them in.  For the fabric softener solution, use 3-4 c. water, 1 c. white vinegar, and 1 c. hair conditioner (cheap is fine to use!).  Mix them in an empty, clean plastic jug, give it a good shake, and pour some over your stack of sheets.  Whenever you go to use a dryer sheet, flip the stack first, take the top one and wring it out, and toss it in with your clothes.  The vinegar smell doesn’t linger, don’t worry.  When you go to use the next one, flip the stack again before getting one.  Just add more solution as needed!  This can also work with a Downy ball, but you’ll need to thin it out a bit more first.  You can use either water or vinegar to thin it.

There you go-easy, cheap, and green ways to both clean your baby’s bottom and soften your clothes, and an embarrassing story about me, too!

K.