Sunday, December 7, 2008
Monday, December 1, 2008
According to Corinne, this baby was asleep in her bedroom (she went on to draw the bed) but couldn't sleep because of all the turkeys outside her window making so much noise. She drew a window with curtains to muffle the noise a bit. The baby's bedspread also had turkeys all over it. Who says autistic kids lack imagination? I asked if the baby was Apple, and she said it was not, but I still feel like this is a step closer to the acceptance of her future little sister.
This next one is a portrait of Papa in the medium of potpourri. She had spent the better part of the day playing with said potpourri, pretending that it was frogs on lily pads and in houses. She then used a tupperware bowl to make the circle outline for Papa's face, which we all felt was pretty darn clever of her. I love that he kind of looks like Bert from Sesame Street.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Turkey float, 2007 parade
Same shot, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Just thought I'd mention it. Feel free to weigh in with your opinions.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Thursday, November 20, 2008
I love and hate the phenomenon of a baby kicking inside of me. I love it for obvious reasons. It is a strange and amazing thing. It starts as a little flutter, like a goldfish bumping into the sides of its little fish bowl. At first you think you imagined it, or that it was gas or a muscle spasm. But soon enough it becomes an unmistakable and undeniable kicking sensation, until it reaches the point, in your last couple months, where you fear that the baby will kick its way out of your already-stretched taut belly like some sort of alien. Not to mention the kicking at your bladder and other already-compressed organs. It becomes your constant companion and your pleasant little secret (like when your boss is talking to you but you're not paying any attention because all you are thinking is "aw, my baby is kicking right now"). It is, for me anyway, the first real tangible and concrete evidence that you have a living thing inside of you. That is why pregnant women are always rubbing their bellies; because they are already practicing acknowledging their baby's need for attention. After Corinne was born I missed that kicking a lot. I felt kind of empty inside. And all that kicking, many times a day for long stretches of time, now translated to crying. Many times a day. For long stretches of time.
I hate the kicking of a baby inside of me because it becomes an obsession. Around 24 weeks, which is where am now, you are supposed to do something called kick counting, where you set aside time each day to count the number of kicks in an hour. This is supposed to indicate that your baby is thriving in there. When the baby is kicking up a storm you breath a sigh of relief that all is well. But inevitably there will come a period of time where you don't feel any kicking for awhile. Maybe you were just busy and didn't notice one way or another. But then you becomes conscious of the fact that you haven't felt anything all day and you become fixated on feeling something, anything, to assure yourself that your baby has not died on you.
One of my favorite episodes of ER, in a morbid fascination, train wreck kind of way, is the episode where Doctor Carter's girlfriend loses her baby in her seventh month. She doesn't feel kicking for a day or so and goes to her OB, who does an ultrasound and determines that there is no heart beat. The terrible part is that she has to then deliver this stillborn baby. I was always horrified at the prospect of having to go through all the pain and hours of labor to deliver a baby that you know is dead. The whole while she hears the cries of other healthy babies being born. I cry each and every time I see this particular episode, which incidentally I just saw for like the fourth time about two weeks ago. Watching it while pregnant? Not such a good idea.
This brings me to this week, where, as I'm sure you can guess, I had "the scare". On Tuesday night I realized that I hadn't really felt much all day. I had been mural painting and had been on my feet and preoccupied all day, so I couldn't say for sure if I just wasn't paying attention. That night I felt a couple of kicks, which was enough to reassure me. Wednesday was pretty much the same deal. By Wednesday night, in those wee hours of the morning when I can't fall back to sleep after my late night pee, I lay in bed for hours waiting to feel some kicking. Usually if I lay on my side a certain way this seems to make Apple mad and she kicks like crazy. Not so on Wednesday night. I tried every position, I tried getting up, I tried bending over, I tried shaking my belly around. Nothing. In the saner hours of daylight I wouldn't have been as concerned, but in those late-night hours, when one is alone with one's fears, I became convinced that she was dead. I envisioned having to go through labor to deliver a dead baby and what would we do after? Who would tell our family and our friends? Would we bury her? Would I repaint the nursery or just lock the door and never go in there again? Would we ever try again, me being 37 and all, or would we say "game over"? What would we tell Corinne, who is just starting to accept the notion of a baby sister? It was awful. I vowed that I would call my OB as soon as the office opened (even though I had an appointment already scheduled for the day after). At around 4 AM I felt some faint kicks, but nothing like the hardy little wallops she had been giving me the past few weeks. Then I decided that she was not dead yet, but that my water had broken just a little bit, enough that it was trickling out very slowly and she was slowly suffocating or starving or whatever a baby would do without its "bag of waters", as it is called. This happened to one of the moms in Corinne's EI group, and she delivered her baby at 26 weeks (the baby seems to be OK, but only time will tell, developmentally speaking). So then I fretted about what I would do in this situation. I would have to drive to Boston every day for months to spend time with my baby in a Neonatal Intensive Care unit. I wouldn't be able to touch her or hold her and the chances of her having a bunch of health issues and developmental delays would be very high, if she even survived. And what about poor Corinne and her needs? Or what if we caught the problem early enough and the doctor just prescribed bed rest. What would I do with Corinne and school? And the holidays? And all my unfinished painting projects?
Needless to say, I didn't get much sleep. By 9:00, when my OB office opened, I was in a state. It didn't help that three different moms asked me how I was feeling when I dropped Corinne off at school. I just smiled and said fine and dandy, while in my head I was thinking that my unborn baby was dying and I had waited one day too many to tell my doctor and that would make all the difference in the outcome. It didn't help that when I called the office and spoke to the nurse, she instructed me to go to the hospital's labor and delivery to be put on a monitor, not "oh it's nothing to worry about, just wait until your appointment tomorrow". She called back a few minutes later to tell me to eat breakfast (I hadn't, in case they had to do an emergency C- section) and drink water and count kicks for an hour before coming to the regular office, because L&D was very backed up and I would have to wait for hours. This was a little more reassuring. I did as instructed, and to make an already long story a little shorter, the doctor listened to the heart and it was normal, which indicates that everything is probably just fine. He wants me to come in for an ultrasound next week, just to check her growth, but he wasn't concerned, especially this early on. He was very nice and reassuring, but I feel like a hysterical mother, which I normally am not, nonetheless. Like they were all saying after I left, "Ugh, there goes another one, pregnancy hormones all raging. How many more times will we be seeing her with false alarms? Wait until she starts having Braxton-Hicks contractions!" But at least I will sleep better tonight, and for the time being I know we're A-OK. And of course, as I type this, I feel little Apple kicking away. Still not quite as heartily as before, but the doctor thinks she has most likely just changed positions so I don't feel it quite as pronounced. I just wish I could go and get the heart rate checked every day, and maybe an ultrasound every other day. I remember this with Corinne, too. The count down to when she could safely be born prematurely. If I can just keep her in there and keep her alive until, say, 35 weeks or so... Then my worries will be over. Except that then, when they're born, you wish that they could just stay inside of you forever so that you always know where they are and that they're nice and protected.
Saturday, November 8, 2008
Let me preface this by saying that these are two events that are notoriously troublesome for autistic kids. Kids on the spectrum do not like having their heads touched and they do not like strangers to get all "up in their grill". For example, Corinne does not like to wear hats and she still cries and carries on whenever we wash her hair. It has only been the past 6 months or so that she will tolerate going to the pediatrician, and that is only because it has been awhile since she had any shots, and there is always the promise of candy. There was a time in her life when I thought for sure that going to the dentist was probably just never going to happen, at least without some serious sedation, and that she would be doomed to a lifetime of momma's bang trimming nightmares. Once again, though, she proved us wrong.
First was the haircut. She had had a trim once before from Auntie E's friend Melissa, who is a hairdresser. But that was in the familiar surroundings of Mimmie's house and she knew Melissa. Other than that it's been momma's home cuts (and it showed!), but her hair had gotten to a point where I couldn't tell what was bags and what was supposed to be long and it was all in her eyes. So this time we went to a new place in town that just does kids cuts. We were the only ones there and she got to watch a dvd. I wouldn't say she loved the experience, but overall it was a success. The place scored big points off the bat for having a fish print smock. She did pretty well, albeit a little tense, up until they did her bangs. I watched her face start to scrunch up in pre-cry mode. She tried so hard to keep it together, which is a big improvement for her (a year ago she would have gone directly to pitch-a-fit mode). I think she got some hair in her eyes, because she said it hurt her eyes. She recovered quickly and seemed very relieved when it was all done (and of course I gave her candy, too).
High on that successful mission, I decided to schedule her for her first teeth cleaning. They just learned about dentists in school as part of their "community helpers" unit, so the timing couldn't be better. The hygienist recommended that I not tell her too much about it ahead of time, which goes contrary to our usual approach of discussing new things until we're blue in the face, sometimes even practicing and playing pretend as well. I trusted the advice and once again Corinne did great. She actually seemed to really like it. The hygienist was great and let Corinne go at her own pace. She got to go up and down in the chair and feel the tools on her fingers first. They counted her teeth (five, according to Corinne) and she learned how to spit. She thought the little sink was funny, as was the "bib like dadda wore for Halloween" (he wore a plastic lobster bib to go with her costume). She liked that there was a picture of hot air balloons on the ceiling light, and that she got a "present bag just like momma's" (I was at the dentist a few days earlier) with "spit out" toothpaste and a new toothbrush. She even tolerated the spinny, noisy brush thing, which I thought would freak her out. She says she wants to go back again, and we play going to the dentist at home now.
So there you have it, two more hurdles crossed, two more mountains climbed, two more notches in our belt. Next up: dealing with a new baby in the house.
Monday, November 3, 2008
Sunday, November 2, 2008
Saturday, November 1, 2008
So Corinne wanted to be a lobster this year, and, big surprise, I couldn't find a costume in the stores so I made her one based on a craft show I saw years ago. It consisted of red sweat pants and shirt, plastic plates and a lot of red duct tape. It came out pretty good, if I do say so myself, and she got a lot of attention everywhere she went.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
When I go there, before I even entered the classroom, I could hear her clear down the hallway exclaiming delightedly that Momma was coming. Upon seeing me she began yelling "I love you Momma!", much to the amusement (and jealousy) of the other parents. She really was quite a spectacle about it, so overwhelming was the thrill of having Momma here, in her classroom.
What struck me the most was just how comfortable she was there. She showed me toys and things that she liked, and moved with ease from one activity table to another. This is the girl who use to be in full blown defensive mode any time there were kids around, her body stiff and ready for flight. Now she was aware of the other kids, but not uneasy with them. She greeted them in response to their hello's and told me the names of many of them when I asked.
The highlight for me was when they sat down for circle time. Corinne sat on her little mat between two other kids and even joined in the songs as best she could (she is a little slower than they are and sometimes needs prompting, but left on her own she watched the teacher's every move intently and followed along, albeit a little after the fact.) I wish her Early Intervention people could have seen her. She is adapting to school better than we ever could have imagined and she really likes going there. We've seen such an improvement in her voice affect, her independent play, and her imagination (some of it quite strange, but that makes it even better, in our book) We couldn't be happier.
Oh, and I made some kick ass Halloween cookies for the party, too. Much better than my fourth of July ones.
Monday, October 13, 2008
Many difficult decisions were made regarding the status of books, toys and magnets. We are having a yard sale, but we couldn't bring ourselves to part with much of it (and honestly, who'd want it?). In the end 90% of the room's contents were packed up and stored in the already too full attic. I like to think that someday we will have The Room again, perhaps in the basement or in a new, bigger house. But then, we had asked ourselves many times if we ever thought we'd reach a point where it was just not appropriate to have such a room anymore? Like when we were in our 50's. Or like when Corinne started bringing friends home who'd then wonder what was up with Corinne's weird parents. Corinne's going to have enough trouble finding and keeping friends. Not to mention what their parents would think... So this is probably the end of an era. Much like the selling of Groucho, this marks the end of a certain lifestyle for us. We are parents now, first and foremost. Grown ups. Lame people with a serious house.
Goodbye, life sized creepy mannequin with glowing Roswell alien shirt (although we will bring you out each year at Halloween time). Goodbye Jacques Le Toaster. Goodbye, Baby Kleenex Head (although I will certainly proudly display you on my desk again when I return to the work force some day). Goodbye, Gus Guts. Goodbye Suckie, the four foot stuffed catfish (although you may fit into Corinne's room decor). Goodbye, Senor Rubin, naked blow up guy from our Jorge and Juanita pre-wedding party. We will dearly miss each and every one of you and all that you represented.
But it is going to be a really cool mural in Apple's room.
The closet wall, pre-Apple pregnancy
The closet wall today. The rest of the room was too painful to show.
Friday, October 10, 2008
From the Beacon-Villager (some names have been changed to protect the innocent):
One of the more colorful booths on Main Street was helmed by M--- resident LoserFamily, Inc., owner of Bouncing Off the Walls. Loser,inc. handpaints wall murals, furniture and other things made out of wood for children.
Loser, inc. said she got started helping to paint a jungle-themed wall mural for her friend, who had just had a baby, about four years ago. Once her own daughter was born, and she painted her daughter's bedroom, Loser,inc. said she decided to try her hand at selling her wares for other children.
Loser,inc. had plenty of colorful, cheerful items for sale: a small, child-sized rocking chair with a Noah's Ark; a small pink and green bureau; clothes pegs; and decorative rulers to be used to measure a child's height, with themes from a farm to under the sea to dinosaurs. Almost everything she paints can be personalized with the child's name, said Loser,inc.
Loser,inc. said she also does custom work, on basically anything that is wood. Her web site: http://www.bouncingwallmurals.com/.
Monday, October 6, 2008
Corinne's favorite thing at the Fest is the Happy Wagon, which in our family we call the Crazy Train. It's basically just a guy on a riding tractor pulling a bunch of barrels with kids in it at $3 a pop. The man's a genius. It probably makes 4 or 5 runs an hour, 10+ kids per run for about 8 hours. You do the math. I'm in the wrong business. But the best part about it is the recklessness of it. It runs up and down the very crowded streets, making a series of switch-back turns and blaring an ooga horn. Here are Corinne and I in the coveted front barrel.
And here we are in 2007
and at our first Fest in 2006 (with Dadda and friend Zoe, on the right).
This was the second year that I had a booth to "peddle my wares". I did OK, though not quite as well as last year (damn economy). I sold a few growth charts, gave out a ton of business cards which may or may not turn into future business, and most importantly, gave an interview to our local, once-weekly newspaper. Bouncing Off the Walls is hittin' the big time, Baby! Stay tuned for my big debut.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Oh God, please don't tell that to your teacher, Corinne!
Monday, September 29, 2008
another GIRL :)
Here she is waving Hello.
Corinne, who came with us, says we should name her "don't make a mess" and described the frontal view of the face as "an apple face". So until she is born (sometime in late February), we'll call her Apple. We do have a name picked out this time and we're not telling!
Monday, September 22, 2008
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Sunday, September 7, 2008
On Saturday night we picked up some lobsters for dinner (all except poor pregnant me, who can't eat them due to their high mercury content or some fool thing). We had them once before, back in June, and Corinne, despite her love for "Hey Heys", as she called them, was a little bit bugged out by them and freaked out as soon as we took them out of the bag. Not so this time. She approached them cautiously at first, and then touched one carefully. She noticed he was bumpy and had blue on him and had a pointy nose like a rhino. And he smelled like pee yew.
From there all her reservations completely dissipated. Next thing we knew she was picking them up and playing with them. She brought one upstairs to "prise Gampa". She hid one in the dresser drawer in her room to sleep with her. She called them her lobster pets and said they were so cute. Then she put all four into the lobster trap coffee table in the living room, saying it was their nice safe cage. But the absolute best Corinne quote was that they looked like "little mailmen. And they bring mail to yucky people." Ah, Corinne, you are exactly the quirky child that everyone predicted would be the offspring of Pete and I!
We put her to bed before it was time to cook her lobster friends (lest we set her back after making all this progress), although I think some of them were dead by this time already. Poor things. Death by toddler has got to be way worse than death by boiling.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
So for today we have managed to get out of her (with the help of her daily notes) that she painted, did circle time, sang "open and shut them" (to which she exclaimed with delight "Steph sings that song every day!", referring to how one of her EI providers taught her that song this summer) and an unidentified song about a bean bag. She ate a pretzel and did a snowman puzzle. One boy cried because probably he missed his momma, but she, Corinne, did not cry. Upon picking her up, her first words to me were "I want to take a nap, momma" (even though it was only 11:00) and some concern that I had forgotten my bag (I dropped off a change of clothes and diapers that morning).
Upon arriving home, Corinne decided that her favorite stuffed animal, Shamu, should be exiled to our front walkway, where she left him until nap time, retrieved him for nap only to return him to the outdoors again after nap. She even left him there while we went to the grocery store, despite my warnings that someone might take him. I wish it could have been her pacifier, the beloved Boobah, instead. I'm sure there's some sort of psychology at work here regarding feelings of abandonment that I'll try not to dwell on.
So there you have it, a nicely uneventful first day of school. Hopefully she will continue to like it. In the meantime I must admit that I'm loving my 2 1/2 hours of freedom!
new classmates (Corinne at far right)
Monday, August 25, 2008
We also went to the Southwick Zoo, which was way better than Stone Zoo that we went to a couple weeks ago. I liked the monkeys, which were really playful and funny. One kept reaching his arm through the bars to hold people's hands (Herpes B, anyone?!) and would then lick his hand. Pete liked the camels because there was a one hump one who kept biting the humps on the two humpers (we think he had hump envy) and they would make this really loud, pissed off noise.
Corinne liked the turtles, especially the regular, boring old kind that are in every pond in North America. She went back to them again and again and squinked herself silly. Go figure. Nothing else impressed her nearly as much.
Next we went to the Big Bugs exhibit at Garden in the Woods. There were thirteen great big bug sculptures made of organic materials- very cool.
We also went to our old favorite, the DeCordova Sculpture park. Here's Corinne, admiring the pine cone people. As a big fan of pine cones, this exhibit really spoke to her.
So all in all a great week. It was nice having Pete home every day and he really loved being able to spend so much time with Corinne. Today it was back to school shopping for Corinne and I to get ready for the first day on Wednesday. Stay tuned...
(Corinne and Turtle, driving the Family Dorkster after flower picking with Dadda)
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Corinne was quite smitten with her special present, her very own fish tank. She named them Dory and Nemo.
Nemo cake (two tubs of frosting. Mmmmmm)
A shark ate my baby! (Note the giant mosquito welt under her eye. Again.)
Monday, August 4, 2008
Little Miss Corinne turns the big 3 on Thursday. We have big plans- lots of family and friends coming for a much anticipated Fish Party (no sushi, sadly. But a fish shaped cake, at least). We're all very excited about the big day, but it is also bittersweet, because in the world of Early Intervention services, turning three is synonymous with the end. Wednesday is the last day our "friends", as we call them, and rightly so, will be coming to our house.
We've been preparing Corinne for this week for awhile. We made a "goodbye book" and talked a lot about it to help her understand that this phase of her life is ending and school is beginning. Gift cards have been purchased and thank you cards have been written. And although I spent a lot of time drafting and personalizing each one, I still don't feel like they quite capture the depth of our gratitude. How do you even begin to thank someone who has given you the gift of a happy, mostly well adjusted child? Corinne is like a typical three year old in every sense of the world. She's active and inquisitive. She runs and jumps and does splits and spins. She asks questions about any and everything. She's silly and clever and makes us laugh every day. She tells us often that she loves us with words and affection. She is the ultimate autism success story, the best case scenario that we ever could have hoped for (there is actually a therapist in her playgroup who is new this summer who thought Corinne was the "community child", the normal kid invited to group to be a sort of role model for the special needs kids. She couldn't believe Corinne is on the spectrum, based on what she was seeing. Can you imagine how much it makes my heart smile to hear something like that?!) How do you ever pay someone back for making that happen? Sure, Corinne is an extraordinary little girl who has overcome a lot. Sure, Pete and I recognized the problem early and got help asap, and have made "fixing" Corinne our number one action item for Loser Family, Inc. But more than anything Corinne is who she is today because of the efforts of these wonderful women who have come into our home and our lives and have loved Corinne and worked tirelessly with her as if she were their own child, not just another kid in a long string of kids that make up their work day. Through what appears on the surface to just be play, they have taught her how to interact with and enjoy the company of others. They have taught her (and us) how to work through her frustrations and fears. They have taught her to be confident in her speech and her movements. She looks forward to their visits and has her favorite games with each of them. We see each of them at least twice a week, in a nice laid out routine that has been familiar and comforting for Corinne. This had been our life for the past year and a half. We have shared with them our success stories, our fears and concerns, and our proud moments. It's so hard for it all to end. On the one hand it feels like this is the natural progression, that it is ending just as Corinne is ready for the next phase, because Corinne really is so ready to start pre-school in a few weeks. But on Thursday morning when we wake up and Corinne asks "Momma, what we doing today?", expecting a list of "well, first Debbie, then Denise's playgroup, then lunch and nap, then Gayle, then Dadda comes home...", it's going to seem so strange to say "I don't know, baby, what would you like to do today?" (thank God Diane and the girls are coming up on Wednesday night for a few days, which will help ease us through this transition. I only wish we could both slosh back a couple bottles of wine!) As hard as it was times to be locked into such a structured schedule, I am going to feel a little bit lost without it, and a lot lost without the people who comprised it . I have become as attached to Corinne's providers as she has. I interacted with them more than my own friends, hell, more than my own husband! It's like having a good friend move away (hint, hint, S@L!). You vow to keep in touch, but it just isn't the same as hanging out with them. You feel an empty spot in your life where they once were. And you all know how I feel about people I care about leaving my life. More "essences" to add to the little jar.
So that's why I'm up and blogging in the wee hours of the morning. It's going to be a difficult and emotional week (not to mention my pregnancy hormones are raging as it is, but that's a topic for another post), but at least I can look forward to what's next. We feel so optimistic about Corinne's future, so for that gift, from the bottom of our hearts, thank you Denise, Debbie, Gayle, Stephanie, Katie, Jamie and Monica (and Laura and Kerry, who moved on a few months ago, but were just as big a part of Corinne's success). We will never forget any of you for all that you have done for Corinne and for our family.
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Me: Did dadda spill coffee in the car?
Corinne (somewhat solemnly): yeah
Me: Was he so mad?
Me: Did he say "grumble grumble mumble fiddle faddle grumble"
Corinne (after thoughtful consideration): No, he said "F**k"
When asked to repeat it again later to dadda, at least she downgraded it to "God Damn it" (with heavy emphasis on the damn it). And this is the child who never forgets anything. She's going to be such a hit at school.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
No one knows for sure what causes autism, but the consensus seems to be that it has a genetic component that may or may not be kicked in by unknown environmental factors. We knew that siblings of autistic kids have a 1 in 10 chance of also being on the spectrum, and we knew of enough families with more than one special needs child to prove the statistic. The thought of us, the Loser Couple, rolling that dice again seemed too risky. We both worked with rodent breeding programs, we understood punett squares and genetics. If a breeding pair produced offspring with undesirable characteristics, you stopped breeding that pair. We talked about it, we debated it with family and friends. We got angry that we were dealt this crappy hand, how unfair it was that we couldn't just go ahead and decide to have another child without all these considerations, and we stood firm on our decision. We were done, and it broke our hearts.
Then sometime last winter our firm resolve began to waiver. The topic got put back on the agenda at Loser Family, Inc. Board meetings. Pete was 100% for having another, he'd just been waiting for me to decide. I wasn't so sure. Could I even enjoy a second baby, or would I be so focused on analyzing its every behavior, noting every milestone met, or not met? Could I possibly go through it all again, the realizing that my child is different, that something isn't right; the evaluations and specialists and Early Intervention and IEP's. And even if the second child was typical, was it fair to that child to have a sibling who was so high maintenance, who took so much of our energy? We shelved the idea for awhile, but it was there, always, in the back of my mind. I struggled with it daily. Try again or just be happy that Corinne seems to be turning out OK? Roll the dice or fold? Would I do it all over again, conceiving Corinne, knowing what I now knew? If the baby ended up with problems, would we still love it? Did I kind of like the idea of being pregnant again, of nursing and bonding and all the joy that comes with a baby? Had I gotten rid of any of Corinne's baby stuff yet? I think the answers, and where this post is headed, are obvious.
We decided to leave it to The Fates. I went off the pill, but used "alternate protection" for a couple months, along with some other steps to ensure that we were producing the healthiest gametes possible.
And..., well, The Fates said let's do this thing, because it happened the very first opportunity. We conceived during our anniversary weekend and now Loser Family, Inc. is adding another employee, start date some time in late February (by scheduled C-section, this I am quite firm on. There will be no "fetal distress" and "heart decelerations" this time around, thank you very much.)
So if you'd been wondering why I haven't posted in awhile, that would be because I've had a lot on my mind (and because we needed to tell the grandparents first). At least I'll have no shortage of blog-worthy material now.
We're excited and terrified. And for you preying folks out there, if you could, say one for us. Because I know I'm going to question if we made the right decision until that baby looks me in the eyes and smiles.
PS- The title refers to the manner in which my college friends and I have always announced some seriously juicy gossip. You say "I know saaam-theeng" in this mexican-like accent and then force everyone to laboriously drag the secret out of you. We're so mature.
PPS- I decided to announce this on my blog to find out who my regular readers are!
Sunday, July 6, 2008
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Thursday, June 26, 2008
So this week one of the words was "naughty", and the picture was of a puppy chewing on a shoe. Corinne is certainly familiar (and quite delighted) with this word and its meaning, so she spent some extra time studying it thoughtfully. She then said "that doggie maybe ate all his dog food and then ate the shoe". We praised this original thought and then went on with the cards. A few minutes later we came to "noisy", which was represented by a man with a jackhammer. For some reason the man's head was not included in the picture, probably to not detract from the real focus, the noise. Once again Corinne studied the picture for a long time before concluding that "maybe that naughty doggie ate that dadda's head".
Awesome. That girl is 100% her mother's (and father's) daughter.
And then there was today's speech therapy session. The word was "sucker" and the pictorial representation for this rather humorous word was something to this effect:
Corinne got very excited and I expected her to say that she wanted that sucker or that we see those type of suckers at the candy store at "Dumma's beach home". Instead she said that she has a "boo-die sucker" upstairs in her room.
The therapist said, "oh, you have a birthday sucker?" and Corinne adamantly said no to this. She kept repeating "boo-die sucker". A game of 20 questions ensued. "You have something round like this?" ; "you have a birdie?"; "can you go get it and show us?". No, no and no. She began to cry with frustration so we quickly diverted her attention to something else. After the session I asked her about it again, the curiosity killing me at this point, and this time had her take me upstairs to show me. She went straight for her room, looked around for a minute, and then pulled open her dresser drawer but couldn't find what she was looking for. She then said "it's on the door" and "it's light blue". Suddenly I knew. I opened her closet door and retrieved from the bag with all her medicines and supplies, this item:
Her face lit up with excitement and relief that the connection was finally made. A boogie sucker. Jeeze momma, get with the program.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Take that, Pete. You nay sayer!