I met with my son's preschool teacher this week. She had some concerns about The Bug. She feels he's behind in his language skills, and mentioned some concern about motor skills, as well as his attention span and interest in things. I had to sign a consent form to have someone 'observe' him in class in a week.

My son has had twenty-two ear infections from August of 2004 until, well, just a few weeks ago. And I'm not sure the last round really went away, courtesy Bug refuses any medicine (I got a bunch of pink goo in my eye the last time). And because of those, it would make sense that his hearing his garbled. If you've been listening to someone talk and it sounds like you're underwater, it'd make sense.

Truthfully, it's the motor skills and attention span thing that scare me. And the fear that the person observing him will couple all of that together and make a jump to something.

(And here is probably a good place to say that yes, I know he's three-and-a-half. And yes, what three-year-old has a long attention span? I will say, though, that his teacher is VERY GOOD. And she wouldn't mention it without some real cause for concern. She works with three to five year-old children for a living, and has for some time.)

With all of that said, I sat in the library talking to her, and she kept saying, "Don't stress out over it; let's just figure out what the issue is! Maybe he just needs me to do something different for him in the classroom." And while she was smiling and talking and asking me the if I'd be attending the "Mom's Night Out" that week (and that's another post), all I could think of was my baby brother.

When my (now 28-year-old brother) was little, he was diagnosed with Sensory Integration Dysfunction and hyperactivity. My parents were tossed into this world of "What can we do to help him?" and they lost complete track of everything else. Our spare room became a library for the self-help books. Our downstairs basement because an "occupational therapy room" with a hammock attached to the ceiling and a big giant ball we were supposed to roll over him, I guess. All of the soda and candy got tossed from the house because "your brother has a reaction to it".



My mom was forcing Ritalin down his throat every day, and every day it was a battle from hell. Once when he was about twelve, she mixed up his Ritalin with her Estrogen supplement. He took her pill. My mom caught the mistake, had to explain to him what he'd just taken. My dad then told him he'd grow boobs. My brother yelled and cried and tried to make himself gag, while my dad and I were rolling on the floor, laughing.


We spent one summer in Denver so he could attend a 'special preschool' where one little boy wore a blue helmut and drooled. My brother just didn't like to be touched. That was it. If you didn't touch him, you were good. So, we'd come to Denver on Sunday night, stay through Friday, and come home on the weekends to see dad. I was forced into a pyschologist's office to talk about my 'feelings'. I had to show her how I felt with puppets, because my mom and dad started to realize they were giving my brother all the attention, and I was getting shoved aside. Kids at our Elementary School would taunt him for needing to go into the "Special Education Room". I once hit a girl on our school bus who said my brother was different and stupid, never mind the fact that she looked like she'd been born of a she-goat and a manatee on crack.

I realize I'm jumping ahead. But you see, all of this went through my mind last Tuesday. Probably before I left the school parking lot. I remembered all of this, and I got scared. I still am scared. And so I have talked to a few friends who have kept my head from head-tripping too far.

I realize all of this could be as simple as an assload of ear infections causing havoc. It could be that my child is three, but is as tall (or taller) than the five-year-old's in his class. And he just might still coming into his own body-wise.

And of course, I know if it's something else entirely, I'll handle that, too.

Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see. ~John W. Whitehead, The Stealing of America, 1983

Labels: detours, preschool, the bug and mommy

Earlier this morning, Bug and I were in a hit and run car accident. The details are really not important, except to say a teenage kid ran a red light at top speed, and on my green light, my car hit the back end of his. And with that force, it bumped his car up onto a curb, and he continued to drive off extra fast.

And I'm obviously not happy he hit me. And I'm not happy he had his music up and wasn't paying attention to what he was doing or where he was going.

This is the front end of my car:



You can see the hood is jacked up, light is messed up, bumper has been assaulted. There's a line of bumper missing, not sure what that was from. And it's 'just a car', yes. And this car can be fixed right up.

But, MAN! I had a three-year-old in the backseat. What if he'd been hurt? What if we'd both been injured? And the kid just drove away.

HE DROVE AWAY. I'm sure he was scared, absolutely. You own up to that stuff, though. You do. I would have commended him mightily for pulling over to see if we were okay. And the parents? I hope it's their car. I hope they see it was fucked up this morning and call him on it, as I know my parents would have if it'd been me.

When I was on the phone with my insurance company - and they asked if there were 'any other passengers in my car other than my son', I said, "Apparently quite a few guardian angels".

So, here's where I'd like to thank mine.




Thanks for keeping us .....


... safe and sound this morning.

Labels: angels watching over me every move I make, bumper cars, daddy, the bug and mommy

What a week.

Bug had a great first week of Preschool. When I dropped him off the first day, he informed me, "It's okay, you go now". So I did. With no tears on either end. It was quite nice to know I was leaving him in a safe place. The only moment of upset came when he learned he didn't, after all, get to ride on the school bus.

I used to ride the school bus. I remember the day when my Bus Driver came to introduce himself at my house. I distinctly remember seeing this man on my front steps, my mom making polite conversation, and my little toddler brother (who had been in the bath) went streaking out the front door completely butt ass naked. My mom was horrified.

I remember being getting on the bus on the first day of Kindergarten, and sitting directly behind the Bus Driver's daughter. Her name was Judy. I remember thinking she had the most beautiful, long blonde hair of anyone I'd ever seen in my entire life (knocked those girls in the Breck commercial right off their pedestal). And man, she smelled SO GOOD! I wanted to be in high school right there and then.

Years later, my brother got to ride on the Bus (clothed). I remember him having a lot of trouble sitting down and staying put. On one occasion, I remember our Bus Driver yelling out, "Sit down, or I'll hit the brakes so hard you'll be wrapped around the gear shift!". I still think that's hysterical.

There's something to be said for riding a country school bus. You hit every single rut there is on a road. You bounce around. You get to know your neighbors. You tell stories about your day. You fight with your siblings, and on complete accident, kick them in the balls (really, total accident). The last day of school, you get FULL SIZE CANDY BARS and are free until September.

A complete and total right of passage.

I know eventually my son will ride a big yellow school bus somewhere. But, I admit, it kind of bums me out that he won't have the same experience I had of waiting outside in the driveway, back pack on, hearing the bus rumbling down the the county road.

Labels: memories, the bug and mommy

"Growth Severed the Cord"

'I forgot to remember
To tie up my shoe"
He said in September,
When School was yet new.
Uncertain, but willing
He marched to the bus
Big thoughts were filling
His mind - what a plus!
He's fragile and shy
I mused with a wave
Fearful he'd cry
I tried to look brave.
My baby returned
A student, he's classed
Infant love spurned!
How quickly it passed.
Excitment and chatter
Of others he brings
So what's the matter?
My jealous heart rings.
Left out and sorrowed
Growth severed the cord.
You remind me he's borrowed!
Watch over him, Lord!"

~ Winona Branan

(Taken from my baby book)

Labels: first day of preschool, the bug and mommy

Are you there, God?? It's me, HDW.

You see, I've got this three-year-old boy ... we'll call him THE BUG ... and he's got to be potty-trained by the end of August. Why the end of August? Apparently, it's 'the rule' at his Preschool that he must be in charge of his own bowels.

And yes, I believe this is asking a lot.

In the last few weeks, we (myself and our daycare person) have been attempting to lure this child in the joys of Pottyhood, if you will. And he's not buying it one. bit.

In fact, I'm sure you, God, thought it was funny yesterday to hear the conversations in this house. But for those not privvy to said conversations, they went something like this:

"Honey, it's time to go sit on the potty!"
"NO!"
"Sweetie, you are in big boy underwear. We need to go sit on the toilet."
"NO!"
"Bug, Mommy knows you went potty for Nee-Nee at daycare. Please go on the potty for Mommy."
"NO!"

At one point, I -being SuperMom- wrangled him onto the toilet. And there we sat, discussing such topics as trains, teddy grahams and spiders. Anything to keep this child seated on the throne. Ten minutes go by.

After much thought, the Bug announced, "MOMMY! IT NO WORK!" and jumps off.

Not five minutes later, The Bug not only pees, but craps himself.

I realize we are just starting this (long and never-ending) process. But if you would be so kind, God, would you PLEASE help me potty-train this kid by, say, middle of August? I know you have bigger fish to fry - like war, famine and Lindsay Lohan (no really, what the hell were you thinking when you constructed that crazy thing?) - but if you could PLEASE offer me some help in this matter, it would be greatly appreciated.

Amen.

Labels: joys of pottyhood, the bug and mommy

Bug: Hey Mommy?

Me: Yeah?

Bug: You my best fwend.

Me: Aw, I love you, Bug.

Bug: Mommy, you're my BEST BOY.

Me: How 'bout best GIRL?

Bug: (thinking) You be a HAPPY girl.

Me: Works for me.

Labels: conversations around the house, the bug and mommy

While we try to teach our children all about life,
Our children teach us what life is all about.
~Angela Schwindt

The Bug and I went to the Butterfly Pavilions earlier this week.

We happened to go when a summer camp full of First Grade kids were there. My son held my hand when I asked (and when I didn't), waited his turn, said 'excuse me' (or 'scmoo me!') if he wanted a turn, and appropriately told a woman who tried to open the butterfly's wings (pictured above) that, "NO! DON'T TOUCH!" - after I'd reminded him not to as well.

I have marveled this week at my child. He's been absolutely a stitch to be around. He's obedient and funny and sweet and kind. He really has such a great personality, and in the last few weeks, it's coming through. I am really quite proud of who he is becoming.

I was sick with a headache on Monday night. I was lying on the couch, with my head propped up by a towel. Bug came by and yanked out the towel. I started to get really upset with him, and he patted my head, put HIS treasured blankie down over my head, gave my arm a kiss, and said, "There, Mommy. You ALL better now!". (He also reminded me to 'go see the doctor' and 'drink water'!)

I would have cried if I could have.

I am so geuinely proud of him and who he is becoming. I know he'll grow up faster than I'd like. I am his best buddy right now. When he had lunch together at the Diner, he wanted to sit next to me. We shared a coke, had french fries, and colored. It was a perfect date.

And I'm sure I'll be left wondering how it went so fast, and remembering what it was like 'back then' - and I hope when I do think back, I remember these moments. And my god, how I hope he stays sweet.

Every day is asks me, "Mommy, do you love The Bug?" and I say, "Of course! I love you and will forever and forever".

And then I hug him, and kiss him, and hope my love carries him forever.

"Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see." ~John W. Whitehead, The Stealing of America, 1983

Labels: love thursday, the bug and mommy