Kittyboy has a friend his age now! The little boy from two doors down, I'll call him Bobby, is almost exactly six months younger, and they've taken an interest in each other. Two-year-olds don't really have friends so much as... life-size living toys. It's quite funny that they don't seem to know what to do with each other - except chase and run and laugh at each other's antics!
It's very interesting to watch them and see the differences in development, Kittyboy at almost two and a half, and Bobby at almost two. Bobby is taller by an inch or so, and ten pounds heavier. Kittyboy learned to kick deliberately just last month, while Bobby's been kicking fairly competently this whole spring. But where Kittyboy will run up to something like a railroad tie and step up and over it with no assistance whatsoever, Bobby can't do that yet. He puts a foot on the railroad tie and reaches for someone to steady himself. If Kittyboy had been full-term, he'd only be three months older, and therapists put him at about Bobby's age anyhow when they rate his abilities, so it's fascinating to see what each one can and can't do. It's a pretty even comparison.
Communication is complicated by the fact that Kittyboy follows primarily English, and Bobby's first language is Spanish. So while they're waving their arms and babbling urgent-sounding proclamations at each other, they have NO idea what the other is trying to say, because they're not "speaking" the same language! Naturally, this means their communication is through gestures and demonstrating what they want, which works quite well.
We had a sad day yesterday, because Kittyboy took his Pooh ball outside. Ooooh, bad idea. It's a rubber ball with Pooh on one side and Tigger on the other, bright and colorful. And coveted, by any toddler who likes balls and Pooh. Kittyboy was actually eager to share, to my surprise, but then Bobby didn't want to give it back... So his mama and I were trying to explain this whole sharing concept, and the idea of possession (that someone else may own the thing you want, and so it can't be yours), and it didn't go well. Kittyboy in tears and holding his treasured ball very tightly, poor little Bobby inconsolable, mommies carrying sad little boys towards their respective front doors.
I did find out, while we were working on sharing, that Bobby LOVES BALLS, and loves Pooh, and does not, in fact, have a ball with Pooh on it. So I went to Menards, where I originally found the ball in question, and got another - exactly like it. Names on each with Sharpie. We are prepared. They're the only toddlers on our little road, and perhaps in the whole neighborhood - they HAVE to be able to play together, and if the ball is going to be a problem, that's an easy fix!
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
A Toddler's First Hibachi Dinner
Our good friend Carel took us all out to dinner last night at a new restaurant, the first Japanese restaurant on our side of town. "Kiku" is awesome, the food is great, the staff are wonderful, and you have the option of sitting either at the sushi bar or around one of several big hibachi grills. We're just starting to enjoy going out to Asian restaurants with Kittyboy, who although he likes tofu and vegetables, used to not be able to have rice. If he got anything by accident containing rice, he would be rolling on the floor screaming in pain 1-3 hours later (time dependent on how high rice was in the ingredient list). No Crispix, rice cereal, rice krispie treats (I had to intercept those on a regular basis during coffee hour), and do you know how many things contain rice flour? I went through our Asian grocery one day reading labels, and decided we just had to wait until he grew out of his rice intolerance, because ordering for him in any Asian restaurant would just be too much of a pain for everyone involved - us asking questions, staff asking, "who on earth could be allergic to rice??" and Kittyboy's little tummy later if we ordered wrong. Well, he can have rice now. We found that out by accident a few months ago - did you know every burrito at Taco Bell comes with rice in it? He was halfway through his burrito when I saw white grains. We figured, well, we'd been planning on testing that again someday, and that was the day! And he was fine. So we've been enjoying being able to go to our favorite restaurants again!
And Kiku is a new favorite now. We've learned that Kittyboy will eat salad with ginger dressing, and he liked miso soup, to my surprise - it's basically a broth with some garnish floating in it, it tastes wonderful but I didn't think he'd be interested in something so watery looking. He liked it a lot, though! I'll have to make it sometime! And he was watching intently as chefs were lighting things on fire at other tables, and we know he likes candles. We thought he was going to LOVE the clanging and fire and everything!
"Love" doesn't usually mean wailing, "All done! All done! All done! Mommy, ALL DONE!" while scrambling from the booster seat over to Mommy's lap and then trying to climb her to escape. My poor precious. The big FWOOSH and probably just as much the blast of heat did NOT go over well. He didn't cry, though - he was just All Done. I got him calmed down sitting on my lap, but he was looking very suspiciously at that grill - it might spontaneously erupt again, you never know! The chef got him to laugh finally when he was trying to get us to catch pieces of egg from the fried rice in our mouths - one man at our grill actually could catch it, but none of the rest of us could, and Kittyboy was quite amused at bits of egg bouncing off our faces. Then when the chef was done cooking, he lit a pyramid of onion rings on fire, like a little volcano (MUCH smaller than the first fire) and when Kittyboy started "All done! All done!" and scrambling again, he [the chef] tossed something on the onion, I think it was salt, that burned sparkly and in different colors. THAT was cool enough to distract him from his wish to escape.
We got great compliments on Kittyboy, though! The other diners had never seen a two-year-old who ate vegetables, shrimp and rice! (have they ever seen, I don't know, a Japanese two-year-old?) And Kittyboy ate his fried rice with great gusto. And with his fingers, but also with the spoon from his miso soup. We're going to the Asian market sometime for some of those spoons with the really deep bowls. And when the waiter brought us chopsticks, he also brought over a pair that someone had MacGuyvered into toddler chopsticks - a rubberband around the ends, a folded piece of paper in between, and a rubber band after that, so they were attached and springy. THAT was fun, trying to teach him how to use the Magical Picker-Upper Sticks. He would pick up a single grain with his fingers, and then try to make the chopsticks hold it. I think I'll get some "rookie sticks" and start handing them to him with silverware, just to let him figure them out on his own. I can remember learning, but can't remember not knowing how - I must have been three or four when I learned. With regular wooden chopsticks, that is - I don't think they made rookie sticks back then. They'll be a good start for Kittyboy, though.
We'll have to go back sometime! Maybe after we have some more words, at least enough to discuss "fire" and the fact that it's not going to spontaneously attack him!
And Kiku is a new favorite now. We've learned that Kittyboy will eat salad with ginger dressing, and he liked miso soup, to my surprise - it's basically a broth with some garnish floating in it, it tastes wonderful but I didn't think he'd be interested in something so watery looking. He liked it a lot, though! I'll have to make it sometime! And he was watching intently as chefs were lighting things on fire at other tables, and we know he likes candles. We thought he was going to LOVE the clanging and fire and everything!
"Love" doesn't usually mean wailing, "All done! All done! All done! Mommy, ALL DONE!" while scrambling from the booster seat over to Mommy's lap and then trying to climb her to escape. My poor precious. The big FWOOSH and probably just as much the blast of heat did NOT go over well. He didn't cry, though - he was just All Done. I got him calmed down sitting on my lap, but he was looking very suspiciously at that grill - it might spontaneously erupt again, you never know! The chef got him to laugh finally when he was trying to get us to catch pieces of egg from the fried rice in our mouths - one man at our grill actually could catch it, but none of the rest of us could, and Kittyboy was quite amused at bits of egg bouncing off our faces. Then when the chef was done cooking, he lit a pyramid of onion rings on fire, like a little volcano (MUCH smaller than the first fire) and when Kittyboy started "All done! All done!" and scrambling again, he [the chef] tossed something on the onion, I think it was salt, that burned sparkly and in different colors. THAT was cool enough to distract him from his wish to escape.
We got great compliments on Kittyboy, though! The other diners had never seen a two-year-old who ate vegetables, shrimp and rice! (have they ever seen, I don't know, a Japanese two-year-old?) And Kittyboy ate his fried rice with great gusto. And with his fingers, but also with the spoon from his miso soup. We're going to the Asian market sometime for some of those spoons with the really deep bowls. And when the waiter brought us chopsticks, he also brought over a pair that someone had MacGuyvered into toddler chopsticks - a rubberband around the ends, a folded piece of paper in between, and a rubber band after that, so they were attached and springy. THAT was fun, trying to teach him how to use the Magical Picker-Upper Sticks. He would pick up a single grain with his fingers, and then try to make the chopsticks hold it. I think I'll get some "rookie sticks" and start handing them to him with silverware, just to let him figure them out on his own. I can remember learning, but can't remember not knowing how - I must have been three or four when I learned. With regular wooden chopsticks, that is - I don't think they made rookie sticks back then. They'll be a good start for Kittyboy, though.
We'll have to go back sometime! Maybe after we have some more words, at least enough to discuss "fire" and the fact that it's not going to spontaneously attack him!
Saturday, May 9, 2009
So... I'm not.
Now that I'm over the fear of how my next pregnancy might or might not go - I'm not pregnant!! :(
But perhaps that's just as well for the moment, as I had an "adventure" with Kittyboy today. We went to my grandparents' house to plant a tree and do other yardwork, and myself plus three other adults were not enough to keep him in line. He was running about the yard as I was digging up lilies of the valley, my mom and grandparents went back in the house, and I didn't see him still out, so I assumed he had followed them back inside. I came in with an armful of plants, said, "He's in here, right?" and three heads slowly shook NO. Ran back outside, was scanning the empty yard when I saw his little red Bob The Tomato t-shirt happily trotting along a ditch two yards away. I ran, I yelled, I hugged, I scolded, and the neighbor catty-corner ACROSS the street said that Kittyboy had been inspecting a large and colorful cardboard box by the neighbor's trash can.
Aren't we glad I'm not growing another one right at this exact moment. I need to get GPS installed on this one first!
Oh, AND... driving in the Chicago suburbs. I don't mind driving in the city - the city makes sense. I avoid the expressways like the plague, but Foster, Pulaski, Cicero etc do not change their orientation and names depending on their mood and time-of-the-month as suburb roads do, at least not when I've driven on them. The system of roads which links the Chicago suburbs is afflicted with serious PMS. I have come to the conclusion that the punishment of Hades is comparable to being lost in the suburbs, on a cell phone with someone who says, "So if you're on 53 North, are you going east right now or west? Because you want to be going west..." It's fifty-blippin'-three NORTH - I darn well ought to be going NORTH, and if I'm not, it's NOT MY FAULT, because IT'S YOUR ROAD!! I don't think I have ever been so close to swearing in my life, short of the time when (in a total ditz moment) I turned the wrong way on I-55 - north back into the city, instead of south to Springfield - and actually did yell my first, and God willing, my LAST, obsenity at the top of my lungs when I realized what I'd done. And then thanked God that Kittyboy was only a year old and not yet a parrot (which he is now).
Happy Mother's Day!
But perhaps that's just as well for the moment, as I had an "adventure" with Kittyboy today. We went to my grandparents' house to plant a tree and do other yardwork, and myself plus three other adults were not enough to keep him in line. He was running about the yard as I was digging up lilies of the valley, my mom and grandparents went back in the house, and I didn't see him still out, so I assumed he had followed them back inside. I came in with an armful of plants, said, "He's in here, right?" and three heads slowly shook NO. Ran back outside, was scanning the empty yard when I saw his little red Bob The Tomato t-shirt happily trotting along a ditch two yards away. I ran, I yelled, I hugged, I scolded, and the neighbor catty-corner ACROSS the street said that Kittyboy had been inspecting a large and colorful cardboard box by the neighbor's trash can.
Aren't we glad I'm not growing another one right at this exact moment. I need to get GPS installed on this one first!
Oh, AND... driving in the Chicago suburbs. I don't mind driving in the city - the city makes sense. I avoid the expressways like the plague, but Foster, Pulaski, Cicero etc do not change their orientation and names depending on their mood and time-of-the-month as suburb roads do, at least not when I've driven on them. The system of roads which links the Chicago suburbs is afflicted with serious PMS. I have come to the conclusion that the punishment of Hades is comparable to being lost in the suburbs, on a cell phone with someone who says, "So if you're on 53 North, are you going east right now or west? Because you want to be going west..." It's fifty-blippin'-three NORTH - I darn well ought to be going NORTH, and if I'm not, it's NOT MY FAULT, because IT'S YOUR ROAD!! I don't think I have ever been so close to swearing in my life, short of the time when (in a total ditz moment) I turned the wrong way on I-55 - north back into the city, instead of south to Springfield - and actually did yell my first, and God willing, my LAST, obsenity at the top of my lungs when I realized what I'd done. And then thanked God that Kittyboy was only a year old and not yet a parrot (which he is now).
Happy Mother's Day!
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Hmmm.... thoughts....
So I took a test this morning, just because I DO NOT WAIT WELL. My appetite is somewhat less wolfish today, as well (which honestly is kinda nice because I was getting tired of eating so very much!). The test was negative... but it's still quite early. I really SHOULD wait until Saturday (although now I have to put pregnancy tests on the shopping list).
It did get me thinking, though, reproductive-wise.
Fact 1: I've been off the patch for just over six months now.
Fact 2: The hormones from the patch, pill, shot, and other chemical birth control can continue to mess with you for "up to six months" after going off of it.
Fact 3: Kittyboy was conceived maaaaybe two WEEKS after I went off of it last time (we weren't aware of Fact 2 at the time).
Fact 4: Kittyboy was born about a week after that six-month mark - so, shortly after the last of the hormones were done affecting my chemistry - and his birth was sudden, dramatic, and bizarre considering I was 25, totally healthy, first pregnancy, and had no risk factors for ANYTHING, let alone severe, early HELLP Syndrome.
Fact 5: No one has a clue what causes HELLP. No one. They barely have any idea what to do about it even, except deliver the baby as soon as safely possible.
Fact 6: Hormones affect EVERYTHING, no matter the reason you're taking them. The whole reason I quit the patch was that my moods had been getting weird (which I'd passed off as related to depression) and I felt desperately like I needed to pump (as in, breastmilk, as in I can tell you why dairy cows moo when the milking is late) which was definitely hormonal and not depression-related at all. The first month off the patch, EUPHORIA. Wow, oh wow, was I happy. And over the past few months, my moods have gotten back at least closer to what they were before the patch.
Fact 7: I was either on the patch or pregnant for the last almost six years - how do I know what my normal appetite is? Is it normal to forget to eat until mid-afternoon? Hmm, prob'ly not. Had just toast and coffee for breakfast this morning - as I would have in high school and all through college, before I got married and went on the patch. A "normal" breakfast for me, not just coffee but also not a plateful of food. (Kinda like my moods - not spitting nails, not euphoric, but just normal)
Fact 8: When last I was pregnant, my already small appetite diminished even further. I would eat maybe 3/4 of a cup of food at a sitting, and feel so full I wanted to throw up. "Your appetite will increase naturally," my left foot. That's not normal any more than forgetting breakfast and lunch.
So I'm thinking. Given all this - is my appetite just going back to NORMAL, playing catch-up first (as my moods did a few months ago)? If so - if my body is now TOTALLY back to what it should be, I'm eating like a real person and not a bird or supermodel - could it be that now I'm physically ready to carry a baby again? Which I wasn't before? Maybe I'm not pregnant right now, but ready and able to be? Maybe if I DID get pregnant now, it would turn out better than last time.
I've been torn between excitement and alarm all this week - because of Kittyboy's abrupt entrance to the world, and because regardless of how I "feel", any doctor who sees my records will call me a high-risk pregnancy. Gee, it'd be so nice - but oh my gosh, bed rest!! And the what ifs... what if the baby's born even earlier? What if I need to go to the hospital in the middle of the day and Husband's at work and I don't have anyone to watch Kittyboy? How do I do this??? But the more I think about the timeline of my last pregnancy, the more I think the next one should go a LOT more smoothly.
If I have a daughter, we'll be having Discussions when she's getting married and looking at birth controls. The patch was the safest we could find that actually prevented pregnancy and doesn't just abort one spontaneously if it happens, and the more I experience and learn, the more I find that that's serious stuff. It's not something you want to mess with if you can avoid it. I mean, I know women who are on hormones and NEED them, because their cycles are irregular and painful otherwise, but I think it should be treated like any other serious medication, not just "Oh, you need contraception? Here you go!" It's NOT without side effects, it's NOT harmless, and it CAN be dangerous. And it can mess with you in ways you don't even realize at the time. It definitely messed with me. Eating the equivelant of one or maybe two good-sized meals a day for six years? No wonder Kittyboy was so small...
Now I WANT to be pregnant!
It did get me thinking, though, reproductive-wise.
Fact 1: I've been off the patch for just over six months now.
Fact 2: The hormones from the patch, pill, shot, and other chemical birth control can continue to mess with you for "up to six months" after going off of it.
Fact 3: Kittyboy was conceived maaaaybe two WEEKS after I went off of it last time (we weren't aware of Fact 2 at the time).
Fact 4: Kittyboy was born about a week after that six-month mark - so, shortly after the last of the hormones were done affecting my chemistry - and his birth was sudden, dramatic, and bizarre considering I was 25, totally healthy, first pregnancy, and had no risk factors for ANYTHING, let alone severe, early HELLP Syndrome.
Fact 5: No one has a clue what causes HELLP. No one. They barely have any idea what to do about it even, except deliver the baby as soon as safely possible.
Fact 6: Hormones affect EVERYTHING, no matter the reason you're taking them. The whole reason I quit the patch was that my moods had been getting weird (which I'd passed off as related to depression) and I felt desperately like I needed to pump (as in, breastmilk, as in I can tell you why dairy cows moo when the milking is late) which was definitely hormonal and not depression-related at all. The first month off the patch, EUPHORIA. Wow, oh wow, was I happy. And over the past few months, my moods have gotten back at least closer to what they were before the patch.
Fact 7: I was either on the patch or pregnant for the last almost six years - how do I know what my normal appetite is? Is it normal to forget to eat until mid-afternoon? Hmm, prob'ly not. Had just toast and coffee for breakfast this morning - as I would have in high school and all through college, before I got married and went on the patch. A "normal" breakfast for me, not just coffee but also not a plateful of food. (Kinda like my moods - not spitting nails, not euphoric, but just normal)
Fact 8: When last I was pregnant, my already small appetite diminished even further. I would eat maybe 3/4 of a cup of food at a sitting, and feel so full I wanted to throw up. "Your appetite will increase naturally," my left foot. That's not normal any more than forgetting breakfast and lunch.
So I'm thinking. Given all this - is my appetite just going back to NORMAL, playing catch-up first (as my moods did a few months ago)? If so - if my body is now TOTALLY back to what it should be, I'm eating like a real person and not a bird or supermodel - could it be that now I'm physically ready to carry a baby again? Which I wasn't before? Maybe I'm not pregnant right now, but ready and able to be? Maybe if I DID get pregnant now, it would turn out better than last time.
I've been torn between excitement and alarm all this week - because of Kittyboy's abrupt entrance to the world, and because regardless of how I "feel", any doctor who sees my records will call me a high-risk pregnancy. Gee, it'd be so nice - but oh my gosh, bed rest!! And the what ifs... what if the baby's born even earlier? What if I need to go to the hospital in the middle of the day and Husband's at work and I don't have anyone to watch Kittyboy? How do I do this??? But the more I think about the timeline of my last pregnancy, the more I think the next one should go a LOT more smoothly.
If I have a daughter, we'll be having Discussions when she's getting married and looking at birth controls. The patch was the safest we could find that actually prevented pregnancy and doesn't just abort one spontaneously if it happens, and the more I experience and learn, the more I find that that's serious stuff. It's not something you want to mess with if you can avoid it. I mean, I know women who are on hormones and NEED them, because their cycles are irregular and painful otherwise, but I think it should be treated like any other serious medication, not just "Oh, you need contraception? Here you go!" It's NOT without side effects, it's NOT harmless, and it CAN be dangerous. And it can mess with you in ways you don't even realize at the time. It definitely messed with me. Eating the equivelant of one or maybe two good-sized meals a day for six years? No wonder Kittyboy was so small...
Now I WANT to be pregnant!
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Could I be....?
Let's start with the fact that I'm not much of a carnivore. And not a breakfast person. Rarely eat before 11, or noon, or sometimes 1 p.m. Coffee is my breakfast. I'm just not hungry. And while I love fried chicken and fish, I'm not that big on steaks, pork chops, burgers, etc. I prefer meat IN something, as an ingredient, rather than just a big chunk on my plate. And I don't necessarily eat much of ANYTHING over the course of the day, because I just forget to unless there's something I want. Lunch in the middle of the afternoon, dinner late at night when Husband gets home. I really don't get HUNGRY-hungry very often.
I think it was Sunday last week I made corned beef for dinner. And because Husband doesn't eat all that much of rich or spicy foods, I ate all the leftovers. I think he might have made a corned beef sandwich later in the week, but other than that and what he ate Sunday, I ate the rest of the three-pound roast. Me, myself and I, because Kittyboy's a quasi-vegetarian. I just kept eating, almost any time I was hungry and Husband wasn't home. Then my mom and sister visited Saturday so I could do my sister's hair for prom, we got fried chicken for lunch, and by Sunday evening I'd eaten all of the leftovers of that. Sunday night we had steaks - and I ate that.
Yesterday I realized that for the last week, I'd been eating meat every time I turned around, and at every mealtime, I'd actually been hungry to eat. Hmmm...... this is profoundly weird for me. Then this morning, half an hour after I got up, I was trying to figure out why I didn't feel good - what was this weird feeling in my stomach? I finally realized it was hunger - not, "breakfast time!" hunger, this was RAVENOUS hunger. I was absolutely starving. I was going to be ill presently if I didn't eat. So at 8:30 this morning, I was eating a baked potato with cheese - a BIG baked potato with cheese. Starch and protein.
I may very well be pregnant again. That's GOT to be it. That, or my metabolism has gotten swapped out for that of someone twice my size. Can't take a test until at least this weekend - not and expect it to be accurate. So now I'm drumming my fingers. And eating. And drumming my fingers some more.
I think it was Sunday last week I made corned beef for dinner. And because Husband doesn't eat all that much of rich or spicy foods, I ate all the leftovers. I think he might have made a corned beef sandwich later in the week, but other than that and what he ate Sunday, I ate the rest of the three-pound roast. Me, myself and I, because Kittyboy's a quasi-vegetarian. I just kept eating, almost any time I was hungry and Husband wasn't home. Then my mom and sister visited Saturday so I could do my sister's hair for prom, we got fried chicken for lunch, and by Sunday evening I'd eaten all of the leftovers of that. Sunday night we had steaks - and I ate that.
Yesterday I realized that for the last week, I'd been eating meat every time I turned around, and at every mealtime, I'd actually been hungry to eat. Hmmm...... this is profoundly weird for me. Then this morning, half an hour after I got up, I was trying to figure out why I didn't feel good - what was this weird feeling in my stomach? I finally realized it was hunger - not, "breakfast time!" hunger, this was RAVENOUS hunger. I was absolutely starving. I was going to be ill presently if I didn't eat. So at 8:30 this morning, I was eating a baked potato with cheese - a BIG baked potato with cheese. Starch and protein.
I may very well be pregnant again. That's GOT to be it. That, or my metabolism has gotten swapped out for that of someone twice my size. Can't take a test until at least this weekend - not and expect it to be accurate. So now I'm drumming my fingers. And eating. And drumming my fingers some more.
Monday, May 4, 2009
Toddler Chew Toys
Starting tomorrow, I'm breaking the chewing habit. Not the pacifier habit - never had one of those, not since leaving NICU almost. It's not a need to suck - it's a need to chew. When therapists ask about "excessive mouthing of inedible objects past the age of two" (phrase I frequently read in surveys), they're not asking about a pacifier. They mean gravel. The vintage Fisher Price people (the ones about the size and shape of a AA battery). Junk mail. Rubber bands. Batteries. They mean, does the kid walk around all day with a toothbrush in his mouth and occasionally bite YOU if he's bored enough? YES.
Kittyboy's had enough stuff taken swiftly from his hands and mouth and then lectured for it, that he now chews on his tongue. All - day - long. But Mom, it's my tongue, it's not a rock! It's not a small toy! It's not a poker chip!
But it annoys me, greatly. His right cheek actually is puffier than the left, because he tucks his tongue in it and chews away. It's that or the toothbrush. And the toothbrush is getting disgusting.
Poker chips from his play piggie bank used to be the chewie of choice, when they were the perfect size to sit between his teeth. I relaxed about those once I realized there was no way he could swallow them. He'd just keep two or three tucked between his jaws all day long. Then his mouth got big enough where they were no longer the perfect size, and darn it, we were on the prowl for something else again. Before we realized he could CLIMB, I was removing things like batteries from his mouth, things which were Put Up Out Of Reach, and demanding to know where on earth he'd gotten them, and he would widen his eyes and hold his hands out with an expression of absolute innocent cluelessness.
Tonight he ate rubber bands. I came into the living room and found him happily eating little clear rubberbands with which I'd done my sister's hair for prom. I flipped out. I yelled NO and NOT FOOD and NOT IN MOUTH, and told him to help me pick them all up and put them back in the bag. Then I had to keep intercepting them before they got to his mouth, because he was unfazed by my flipping out, and by golly he liked those.
I've tried chew toys before without success, because of course if you actually WANT him to chew on it, he's not interested. Well, I have a new tactic. I've been telling him all day to stop chewing his tongue. Stop chewing. Stop chewing. Stop chewing! STOP CHEWING! So I made new chew toys tonight, to offer every time his tongue's in his cheek. Aquarium tubing, I figure, has to be basically food-grade, because people who monitor their tank's pH and other chemistry, and read the nutritional labels on fish food would not put something in their tank that would break down over time or release anything harmful. And every tank everywhere has airline tubing. And airline tubing won't hurt him if he falls with it in his mouth.
Well, so this picture doesn't show it all THAT wonderfully, but I have four chew toys made. Airline tubing, and the bigger hose is from a gravel vacuum. We're going to be having Discussions tomorrow, every time he chews his tongue, about what we chew and what we don't. Here, have a chewie. Have two or three or four!
Kittyboy's had enough stuff taken swiftly from his hands and mouth and then lectured for it, that he now chews on his tongue. All - day - long. But Mom, it's my tongue, it's not a rock! It's not a small toy! It's not a poker chip!
But it annoys me, greatly. His right cheek actually is puffier than the left, because he tucks his tongue in it and chews away. It's that or the toothbrush. And the toothbrush is getting disgusting.
Poker chips from his play piggie bank used to be the chewie of choice, when they were the perfect size to sit between his teeth. I relaxed about those once I realized there was no way he could swallow them. He'd just keep two or three tucked between his jaws all day long. Then his mouth got big enough where they were no longer the perfect size, and darn it, we were on the prowl for something else again. Before we realized he could CLIMB, I was removing things like batteries from his mouth, things which were Put Up Out Of Reach, and demanding to know where on earth he'd gotten them, and he would widen his eyes and hold his hands out with an expression of absolute innocent cluelessness.
Tonight he ate rubber bands. I came into the living room and found him happily eating little clear rubberbands with which I'd done my sister's hair for prom. I flipped out. I yelled NO and NOT FOOD and NOT IN MOUTH, and told him to help me pick them all up and put them back in the bag. Then I had to keep intercepting them before they got to his mouth, because he was unfazed by my flipping out, and by golly he liked those.
I've tried chew toys before without success, because of course if you actually WANT him to chew on it, he's not interested. Well, I have a new tactic. I've been telling him all day to stop chewing his tongue. Stop chewing. Stop chewing. Stop chewing! STOP CHEWING! So I made new chew toys tonight, to offer every time his tongue's in his cheek. Aquarium tubing, I figure, has to be basically food-grade, because people who monitor their tank's pH and other chemistry, and read the nutritional labels on fish food would not put something in their tank that would break down over time or release anything harmful. And every tank everywhere has airline tubing. And airline tubing won't hurt him if he falls with it in his mouth.
Well, so this picture doesn't show it all THAT wonderfully, but I have four chew toys made. Airline tubing, and the bigger hose is from a gravel vacuum. We're going to be having Discussions tomorrow, every time he chews his tongue, about what we chew and what we don't. Here, have a chewie. Have two or three or four!
Friday, May 1, 2009
IFSP news
Sooo.....
Developmental re-eval said basically, "Keep doing what you're doing!" Keep Speech, keep OT, keep doing what we're doing. It's aaallll good. He does still need both, but obviously they're making a difference. We knew this, no surprise here.
Speech, he may not qualify in another six months - only a 38% delay!!! It's so weird to see the biggest numbers on a report be "26-38% delay". Like I said, six months ago at the last meeting, the biggest number in the Speech report was 85%. Wow!!! Woohoo!! Wow!!! And our next SLT will have her EI approval in a few weeks.
OT, we are ordering stuff, like a real weighted blanket and an inflatable hugger thing (technical term - it's something we inflate that gives him a "hug", Ginny says he'll love it). The report says that "His sensory needs will need to be continually addressed in a variety of ways over the next few years. Although he has shown great improvements, he continues to need support as he develops." So, what I need to ask is, on what criteria WILL he eventually graduate from OT? I mean, it's great to have people to Tell Us What To Do and what our problems are, and all that, but I guess we ourselves don't have the knowledge or experience to say, "Here's what the problems will be when he's four, here's what the problems will be when he's ten," and so on and so forth. I'm curious now - will he be using a weighted blanket forever? Will he get even weirder than other kids when he hits puberty? I need to start asking specifics....
And I have close to a ream of paper from our coordinator Tammie, also known as a transition packet - transitioning from EI to school district services, which he will do this fall if the school district says he qualifies. Good news, he can go to school just for therapy and be home schooled, for as long as the school district believes his issues affect his ability to learn! And those services would be free from the district, too. IF he needs them.
Fortunately, the ream of paper is all information - we don't have to do anything until sometime in the fall, when Tammie tells us when the meeting withthe school district is. We do have reading material for several evenings, though!
Developmental re-eval said basically, "Keep doing what you're doing!" Keep Speech, keep OT, keep doing what we're doing. It's aaallll good. He does still need both, but obviously they're making a difference. We knew this, no surprise here.
Speech, he may not qualify in another six months - only a 38% delay!!! It's so weird to see the biggest numbers on a report be "26-38% delay". Like I said, six months ago at the last meeting, the biggest number in the Speech report was 85%. Wow!!! Woohoo!! Wow!!! And our next SLT will have her EI approval in a few weeks.
OT, we are ordering stuff, like a real weighted blanket and an inflatable hugger thing (technical term - it's something we inflate that gives him a "hug", Ginny says he'll love it). The report says that "His sensory needs will need to be continually addressed in a variety of ways over the next few years. Although he has shown great improvements, he continues to need support as he develops." So, what I need to ask is, on what criteria WILL he eventually graduate from OT? I mean, it's great to have people to Tell Us What To Do and what our problems are, and all that, but I guess we ourselves don't have the knowledge or experience to say, "Here's what the problems will be when he's four, here's what the problems will be when he's ten," and so on and so forth. I'm curious now - will he be using a weighted blanket forever? Will he get even weirder than other kids when he hits puberty? I need to start asking specifics....
And I have close to a ream of paper from our coordinator Tammie, also known as a transition packet - transitioning from EI to school district services, which he will do this fall if the school district says he qualifies. Good news, he can go to school just for therapy and be home schooled, for as long as the school district believes his issues affect his ability to learn! And those services would be free from the district, too. IF he needs them.
Fortunately, the ream of paper is all information - we don't have to do anything until sometime in the fall, when Tammie tells us when the meeting withthe school district is. We do have reading material for several evenings, though!
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