Struggle

Let's be clear. This is not about Ruby. She is amazing. She is a blessing. She is an absolute bright spot. It's me who is not...this is about me and my flaws.

The word of the day is struggle. Sun up to sun down.

Unfortunately that has been my world as of late...the last few weeks, for sure. I am constantly uptight, anxious, out of patience and even angry. Most days I'm amazed that Lehr comes home after work.

I struggle every time I'm reminded of a milestone that Maddux or Eli hit when they were exactly Ruby's age. Especially when Ruby is not only not there, but oh so far from it. I struggle every time we take a step backwards into the black hole of regression. Especially when it's on a skill like potty training that we've been working on for a solid year. I struggle each and every time I come face to face with her delays, which happens pretty much every time I see a child her age or younger completing a task with ease that she struggles with. Like voicing a need or observation with enough articulation that people other than me can understand. Like going anywhere in public without the constant worry that we might have a bathroom accident. Like walking through a parking lot (or store, or park) without having to be picked up and carried. Like playing in the yard with other kids without me having to hover every second because of the constant threat of her running into the street or the creek.

I can't even form the words most days to explain how much I let this stuff get to me. The cocktail of guilt, fear, self-pity and grief is strong. Guilt over what I have done wrong or not done right to help her in any given area. Guilt over having feelings of frustration and even anger that it's not working. Fear that we won't get past this. Self-pity over all the work we've put in without results. Grief that has come to visit way more often than I would like ever since Ruby was born. And then the guilt again because, good gravy...why am I still mourning the child who would follow the same trajectory Maddux and Eli did in their younger lives. Why do I still stack up what our daily life is to what it 'could have been'. What a sick and dangerous comparison game...

This is nothing new...it never is. Because I can't seem to get outside of myself, I am always walking a path that has two sides. I have to chose to actively face the bright side, full of possibilities and hope and joy instead of falling into the dark shadows serving that strong cocktail. Sometimes I just don't have the emotional energy to put on the happy face.

Doldrums

Another late night start to this post, followed by many revisits during times when I was struggling. Because of that, my words are less guarded or filtered than usual. These thoughts and emotions captivating my mind, my heart, more than I would like are very raw. Almost like a raw onion: so pungent that while on this train of thought my eyes are flooded and so bitter tasting that I recoil.

And before I get into it, I know... I really do. I know Ruby is awesome. And I know I am extremely (EXTREMELY) blessed. And I know there are worse things. Heck, we just finished beating cancer...I should know better than to feel anything other than grateful for each and every minutia of this life. But I'm human and often times that means I suck at letting my imago dei shine. There is nothing you can say to me about these skewed thoughts and feelings that I don't say to already myself: selfish, greedy, missing the point, whiner - I cover them all daily.

So even though I'm all kinds of stubborn and stuck in the bad mood I've created, I'm thankful that I have a patient God. I'm relieved that He is bigger than my tantrums, and I am grateful that he will love me even when I throw them. Which is good, because this one is a big ole tantrum and it's lasted a long time.

The truth is that I have been spending most of my days faking it as of late. And the problem with faking it is when you run out of fake, there's nothing left. And, if you're like me, that faking it makes you mad/sad that you feel you have to fake it. Doesn't matter that you're mad at yourself, anger is anger and it isn't very becoming.

Because I pick everything apart in my brain and over-analyze it to a fault, when I'm talking to myself about why I'm in such a state, I try to walk through a day and find emotions tied to events and interactions. My hope is that I can find correlations to help me root out the cause. What I find is that the times when I get to spend one-on-one (or even two-on-one sometimes) with Eli and Maddux are usually non-faking, good times, even when those times include correction or mundane tasks. The times when I'm at home working with Ruby and she is giving me her all are good times. Top of the world good times. The times when I leave our safe house and measuring sticks are all around Ruby and I, those are the bad times. The times when I'm working with Ruby and her focus is anywhere but on me, or when we are having a really bad day with integrating and inclusion, those are the dark times.

That over-analyzing takes you down a path regardless of which way it's pointing. The good path is paved with highlights of real connecting time with the kids or milestone-reaching by Ruby. And I know that the path is paved that way because I'm viewing things differently on those days; I'm seeing the good all around me and noticing all of the amazing ways God is loving me.

But the bad path...it's a dark one. A bad focus day for Ruby reminds me of the bad therapy session the day before which reminds me of the less-than-positive event recounting I read from a mom of an older child with T21 which reminds me of the last park day we had when I had to keep Ruby within reach at all times so she didn't push any kids. A day that finds me getting after the older kids points out that I have no patience left for their mis-steps or learning curves which points out that I'm not allowing them the space they need to make mistakes which points out that I'm mean and snappy with everyone in my family. A day where I spend all of my energy watching Ruby's every move to see if she may be trying to tell me she needs to use the bathroom reminds me that we are using our time, ALL of our time, for potty training and not speech or PT or OT or (gasp) something fun. And that stresses me out so that when she has an accident (or rather, multiple accidents), everything crumbles for me because so much is tied up in the daily effort.

Getting ugly here.

All of that weighs. It weighs a lot to have so much of my day consumed by research and speech drills and attempting new skills that kids younger than her have already mastered. It weighs a ton to have spent almost two months on potty training already but still be required to send her to preschool (and speech and gymnastics and anywhere I'm not within 10 feet of her and can deal with an accident) in a pull-up. (And when I say we've spent two months on it, I mean she's in underwear 24/7 when she's with me and our days are FULL of asking her countless times, taking her almost as many times as I ask, running to the bathroom or the back of my car where the portable potty is no matter what errand I'm in the middle of running and still having her have up to four accidents every day.)

And it's exhausting. It's exhausting to wake up and put on a positive face and tell myself, "Today, THIS will be the day she gets it." (Insert whatever 'it' that is heaviest on my heart.) It's exhausting to never stop looking at my phone when she's at school because I'm convinced they are going to call me about an issue. It's exhausting to watch her gymnastics class like a hawk because I'm not in there with her but do I need to go in and help Ruby follow directions better? It's exhausting to be reminded every time we are around any toddlers how little she is able to communicate compared to those younger than her. It's exhausting to hold my breath constantly waiting for something to happen that would exclude her from an activity (like not being potty trained, like biting or hitting, like not being able to keep up with her peers). Because, let's be honest, the magnifying glass of scrutiny is going to be on her more than other kids when she misses the mark. So I sit waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I've also come to realize with school starting that my sad/mad is coming from a different place too. I want more big kid time with my big kids. I need it and I pine for it. Not over-the-top fun time, just big kid time being 'big' together. Enjoying a big person movie with them. Hiking a long distance with them. Taking them to paint pottery. Running errands they'd like to run with them (and not a cart). Sitting on the back porch after school and having a leisurely snack and chat with them.

So that takes me back about four or five years....I was on a track with families around me. It was a track heading to a place with predictable milestones including sports and sleepovers and middle school. These families are still on that track, yet our track was interrupted. I see them sitting on the sidelines at a practice, chatting with their other kids, just enjoying hanging out, on that track that is moving forward. I see them volunteering in their kids' classrooms with the precious moments they have carved during the day, moving forward. And I see our track slowed to a crawl.

It hit me that this was consuming me from the inside when I heard a mom in Ruby's class as she looked at the birthday wall. She pointed to Ruby's name and said, "That can't be right...that would make her too old to be in this class...the cutoff is 34 months". And I hung my head and bit my lip to keep from tears, because that's how tightly wound I was. When a random innocent observation can hit me so hard, there's a problem.

The truth is, I am jealous. Jealous of her rule defaulting ignorance to a child that might warrant bending the standard rules. And I'm jealous of the mom who doesn't have to hold her 30lb toddler in one arm while she signs the credit card print out at the doctor's office because her 2-year old can stand next to her for one minute without running off or lying on the ground. And I'm jealous of the mom of a tween who leisurely walks around Publix, not having to push a cart and incessantly talk to their toddler about every color or item on the shelf to reinforce speech. I took Eli to buy a new pair of sneakers after dinner recently and it felt like the most relaxing, most rewarding 30 minutes of my day. We walked into the store, spoke to an employee, tried on and tested a few pair, and left. Selfish to not want to deal with 2-man coverage while in a store? Sure. But it was amazing to be able to enjoy my son's growing maturity, even in the small moments and that's what I'm missing right now.

Here we go...it's all 'woah is me' and 'my life is so hard'... I know what this sounds like. I chastise myself for it often. Especially because we chose this. We knew having another child would put us a little further back on the track for a few moments. We knew adding a baby to our growing-towards-Independence family would mean taking a step back. But I get stuck on the reality that those few moments are going to last longer, and that step back has not been followed by catching back up with the pack. We aren't just a little behind those we were on a path with, we are now on a totally different path altogether. And this hiccup in our planned path, MY planned path, is something I find myself getting frustrated with. The stationary movement that our house churns through daily causes me to feel beat down. Like I'm on a treadmill of therapies and exercises and repeated passes at skills.

So I get mad. And sad. And tired. And frustrated. And and and. And I KNOW it's my lack of faith that this is part of God's plan and He will see me through it. And I KNOW that I'm not choosing joy when I get this way. And I KNOW 'it's not about me'. And I KNOW great work is being done in the midst of what I often wish wasn't present. But knowing those things and accepting them, truly embracing them, are polar opposites for me these days.

And right now the potty training hits me the hardest. I might be doing fine with everything else, and then out of nowhere spiral downward because I discover, yet again, that Ruby has wet her pants with no indication to me at all that she had to go or did go. And with every accident throughout the day I feel another nail in this cement coffin of self-doubt and pity. Total ridiculousness and indulgence, I know. But even the truth about where those insecurities come from don't make the feelings any less real.

So I pray. And I question what He's doing and why He's choosing this path for me. And I have to remind myself that this, this reaction of mine, is part of my answer: because I struggle with it so much. But I still fight back and dig my heels in. And when I do this I realize that I'm not done grieving Down syndrome.

I feel like those of us living in the range of special needs are constantly having to readjust expectations. And that means a level of repeat grieving. Grieving not being able to tell ourselves with certainty: 'it's just a phase'. Grieving the comfort of falling back on the knowledge that s/he will get it, because certainly s/he won't wear diapers/not feed her/himself cleanly/still not be able to successfully state her/his name by the time s/he goes to kindergarten. Grieving the hope of a strategy working when the reality of support needed for her/him to succeed is unavoidably obvious.

I feel like I say it all of the time, but it bears repeating (if nothing else, to myself): Ruby has allowed us to be on an amazing journey that brings way more joy to my life than I could have ever imagined. But it's not what I'd expected or planned on, and there is grieving for that plan along the way. When I feel bogged down, I play the selfish and ridiculous game of 'what if' or 'what my life could look like'.

What I'm learning (SLOWLY) is that this struggle is revealing my entitlement. My feeling that I should be past these parts of my parenting life. I should have more 'big kid' time with the big kids. Ruby should be able to go to school/gymnastics/soccer/a playground without crazy preparation on our part. I should be able to teach/train her better than I am. I should be in a different stage of parenting.

 And when all verses I lean on are falling on my deaf ears, He leads me to this a few days ago:

James 1: 2-4   Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing. 

And duh. I know this, but this time, when I see this verse for the first time, I hear it a little clearer.

So I keep reading:

James 1:5-8  But if any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God, who gives to all generously and without reproach, and it will be given to him. But he must ask in faith without any doubting, for the one who doubts is like the surf of the sea, driven and tossed by the wind. For that man ought not to expect that he will receive anything from the Lord, being a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways. 

This is not a feel good post. I'm not tying it up with a pretty bow and saying "The End". These verses are amazing, but I'm still struggling with them. In the meantime I'm thankful that I have a patient God. I'm relieved that He can handle my tantrums, and I am grateful that he will let me throw them.

If You Don't Have Anything Nice To Say, Don't Say Anything At All

'nuff said.

But it's me, so I couldn't possibly stop there.

I've been pretty light on the blogging lately. Part of that is due to being home and being B.U.S.Y. with 'normal' stuff like school and sports and middle school decisions and routine doctors' appointments. That stuff takes a lot of time and energy, especially with three kids all moving in three very different directions. But what zaps of my time and energy these days is worry. And scrutiny. And fear.

Philippians 4:6  Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving present your requests to God.

Struggling, really struggling, with the concept of worrying right now. Ruby's therapy sessions are not offering as many hopeful moments as I would like. Or as many lights at the end of the tunnel as they once did. Instead they are full of disinterest, impatience and uncontrollable impulses. One therapist has been having us work on a mouth/tongue skill with her for a month now. These sessions are wrought with frustration for the therapist.

And this mama.

I can usually get Ruby to perform the 'trick' she is being asked to do, but the therapist cannot. (Cue more frustration.) Our time together is spent mostly in a stalemate. And my therapy work at home with her is not met with as much focus as she used to give me, which can be attributed to anything (especially being two years old), but that means the work accomplished and skills displayed are significantly diminished. 

Speaking of that 'being two' thing... Ruby is very stubborn and will not give up on something, regardless of how many 'no' responses she gets to it. Time outs do not work so far, as she thinks sitting on her designated step is a game (even though the kids routinely get sent there for time out too, and she's seen it modeled correctly). Redirection is my best bet, but even that depends on her desire to be redirected.

This means that everyday tasks like cleaning up after breakfast or making dinner are stretched out infinitely because every minute I'm having to check around the corner on Ruby's activity or stop her from doing something she's not allowed to do (like turn on the microwave, or empty the cabinets). Yes, I show her where to play. Yes, I give her QT before and after so she *should* be fine to self entertain. My next step is likely a pack-n-play to contain her. I don't like that. I know that shouldn't bother me, but it does. She's almost three...we should not be moving backwards with her following simple directions, and she *should* be able to grasp at least a few of our household rules by now (i.e. no touching the microwave or emptying out the cabinets).

Ruby's interaction with other kids is yet another thing that causes my shoulders to stiffen up. This week alone has found us in three situations where she was having 'open play' with kids around her age. I feel like I have to follow her around like a helicopter parent to ensure the safety of others. Ugh. That's an ugly sentence. She wants to interact. She wants to engage. So she will: she'll say 'hi', and usually give a hug. But sometimes that hug turns into a take down. Other times it is followed by her waving 'hi' again, but this time with her fingers actually touching the other child's face. And when it gets even better, she ends up pushing them. For no reason at all.

These interactions, these stagnations in therapy progress, these everythings make me scrutinize...everything. That's not fair to Ruby and it's not fair to me, but I still do it. I read too deeply into Ruby's performance in a round of color matching. I think too long and hard about what it means that Ruby can't stop touching the washing machine buttons. I look too closely at Ruby's part in a social setting.

As this swirls around my head, we're in the midst of transitioning out of Babies Can't Wait (state services from birth-three years old). Next year she will likely go to a special needs preschool for two days a week. I'm certain the county will push for her to attend more based on their evaluation of her, but we want her to attend her typical preschool three days a week to continue the benefits of full inclusion. But how can I expect that she will be a contributing member in her typical classroom next year if she isn't able to communicate basic needs to her teachers and peers? I know there are plenty of kids who are not big talkers, and many that do not engage nearly as much as Ruby. But that's where the balancing act lies...she wants to be involved in everything, so often there is taking of toys, or pushing out of the way in place of words she has in her head but not on her lips.

Then, because once I get into this dark space, I'm unable to find my foundation for what I believe is right or working with Ruby in regards to everything, I second guess it all. Then I worry that I'm not giving her enough time to just be a kid without me interfering. Then I worry that I'm not allowing speech and OT things to just happen naturally (which is really not an option, as those of us working through some of these challenges with Down syndrome know). Then I worry that I'm mistaking my worrying and planning for things to do with actual time working with Ruby and maybe I've got it all wrong and I need to be doing even more.

My opinion remains that she has so much to say, even though she has such limited speech. She's like this sunflower, not yet opened, but containing amazing color and size. But how will anyone know what is inside of her if she remains closed?

And that's where the fear creeps in. The fear that Ruby is not capable of as much as I think she is. The fear that her potential is being met; we are seeing it's entirety in her few jumbled words that are incomprehensible by most people. Enter the fear that inside of this closed flower are only a few petals.

You can see how quickly this spins out of control. You can see why it's not always a good idea to walk through the mansion of my mind. You can see why I sometimes opt to not say anything at all.

Last Night

Here's a complaint post for ya, just in case you thought too highly of me. Really tried to just post the schedule, but of course my commentary plays into it. This sucks for a child that sleeps 11-12 hours each night, without waking, and needs her sleep now more than ever to keep her body in tip-top fighting condition. Ruby barely made it through an early lunch today and was yawning significantly at 10AM. Oye...

Last night:
8PM - oral meds, vitals, bedtime
10PM - *eye drops, bright lights and loud voices trying to coax Ruby to 'open your eyes' helped make sure she was very awake
1230AM - vitals
2AM - ???? something involving lots of noise and commotion in the room
3AM - chemo start, including the opening of packaged paper gowns, putting on said gowns, and disposing when finished. Oh, and the monitor beeped incessantly through the whole thing (20 minutes), with the volume on high (something I've learned to fix with the click of two buttons)
4AM - eye drops and vitals again. What, you don't want to open your eyes, Ruby? I'll talk in a louder voice and turn the lights up brighter. Then when it's over and I clap and say "good job", resulting in you sitting up, I'll say, "Well, I guess you're up for good now!" (To which I reply, "No, we're not going to do that. Please turn out the lights.") Once they leave, Ruby stands up and tosses and turn and talks in her crib for 45 minutes now because she's totally awake.
6AM - chemo finish. More paper gown music for 15 minutes.
7AM - shift change - lights on and let's go

*These are the same eye drops Ruby had all through last week, including at home with Lehr and I. Most of our nurses, and Lehr and I are able to get the drops in quickly with a little cry, but then Ruby goes right back to sleep.

Oh What a Night

Deuteronomy 31:6   Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you.

Ruby had another low fever around dinner time last night, which the nurse was pretty confident would prove to be 'the one', but then it started to drop before bed. (*'The one' fever we are looking for is one that almost always occurs when Ruby's post-chemo levels are at their lowest - right now - because it is the proverbial 'hump' we have to get over before recovering and being released.) Ruby went to bed around 8:30, but was very restless in her sleep, moving around a bunch in her crib.

Around 10PM, the nurse came in to hook Ruby up to her fluids. We usually do that at bedtime, but they opted to wait last night (maybe waiting for the fever?). So that took some help from me; usually Ruby would sleep right through that, but the restlessness made her easily roused. I had to hold her to get her back to sleep, and then her IV alarm kept going off (I never really figured out why...the nurse fixed it each time).

At the midnight rounds, when I was just settling into bed, Ruby's fever was up high enough that they drew cultures and ordered antibiotics. This woke Ruby again because we also had to give her oral Tylenol. (Just what Ruby loves, especially in the middle of a night with no sleep.) I just held her through all of that until we got the first type of antibiotic in her (Zosyn).

Towards the end of that dose through her IV, I put her back in her bed and went to bed myself. A few minutes later the nurse came in because Ruby's IV alarm was going off signaling the Zosyn was finished. That meant it was time to start the next antibiotic (Vancomycin). I heard the nurse in here for quite a while getting it hooked up, but I eventually dozed off. Then I heard Ruby stand up in her crib and rattle around. I turned to her and told her it was ok and to go back to sleep. She got up and down a few more times and then whimpered. When I got up to hold her, I could smell that she needed a diaper change. I got the supplies and turned the light on just a little so I could see what I was doing. As I was changing her, Ruby was rubbing her face a bunch, as she typically would when woken up from sleep. But her face was all puffed up. As soon as I got the clean diaper on her I paged the nurse and the fun began.

Ruby's nurse called a few other nurses as soon as she saw Ruby. The Vancomycin was stopped immediately and Benadryl was started. Nurses were in and out as they checked the computer and made a call and checked Ruby again and again. They took her blood pressure, pulse ox, and listened to her chest about 100 times. Finally satisfied after her breathing sounded better, only our nurse remained. She had called the doctor and was going to hold off on the antibiotics until further notice. Ruby and I finally got some sleep around 4:30AM. 7AM brought more Tylenol for the fever that had gone back up, and 8:30AM was officially morning.

Ruby didn't want to eat or drink much of anything this morning, but by lunch she ate and drank a little. She was very moody this morning, but that could be the lack of sleep as much as it could be the fever or the reaction. During rounds we discussed where we go from here. The Vancomycin is preferred as it takes care of a large variety of infections. However, Ruby's reaction was severe and not typical. So, for now, she will receive antibiotics every 8 hours (until the fever goes away), and it will only be the Zosyn (doesn't cover as broad of a spectrum). I asked what our plan of attack was for the next round of chemo, as she will need to be protected from that large variety of infection as the chemo progresses. The doc on call assured me there were other options, but Zosyn is our plan for now.

Scary to think how labored Ruby's breathing was, scary to think that I would have slept through it had she not filled her diaper at that moment, scary to think a medicine that should show a side affect that severe quickly would wait until after the nurse watched and waited (20 minutes) to react. But it was not scary in that moment...God kept Mama Bear calm and awake enough to help, and He kept Ruby strong and healthy enough to withstand the craziness of the night.

Pop Goes the Bubble

Isaiah 40:31   But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

Here is yet another opportunity for me to not be weary or faint….here is another chance I have to trust Him to take care of my family.

Ruby is doing amazingly well still. Her blood counts are all good, she’s not running any fevers, she’s been off of nausea medicine for several days and hasn’t shown any signs of needing it, and her energy is spot on with what it was before we started chemo. Outside of the fact that we are in the hospital, it’s like there is nothing out of the ordinary going on with her.

Because of this clean bill of health, rounds for Ruby each morning are very quick and uneventful. I decided to rock the boat this morning and ask about future rounds, since this one has been so easy going. Our doctor told me that next round will be some (all?) of the same chemo meds as this one, including the 4-day drip, but they will be stronger and she will feel it more. Because of the increased intensity (here’s the mic drop), Ruby will be in the hospital for another 21 days.

Do not be weary…..do not be weary…..

The stay in the hospital is no picnic, but it’s manageable, and Ruby and I still get outside, get some speech and OT work done, and even see friends a few days a week. Until this point it was just a goal I had in mind and we were powering through, looking very forward to October. 

Now I know we can manage that for another month. But our family being split in two has been hard for me, even for just the 10 days so far. The things that we’ve built our family on, dinner together each night, bedtime reading, after school check in with homework/sports/goings on….I am missing these things a lot. On top of that, October is a fun month for me and the kids…we do several Halloween and fall type activities: crafts, fun foods, pumpkin patch trips, scarecrow sightings, parades...

And of course this plays into Ruby’s school. I don’t know how it will work because the longer she’s away, the less likely it is that she can hop back into her class. And while she’s rocking and rolling with speech and some fine motor things (because I get to work on it so many times each day), her fatigue for this next round will affect her energy, which could affect her willingness and/or ability to practice those skills.

I know my family is strong, I know this is a short phase for the long life Ruby has ahead of her, I know He will see us through. But this was a deflating moment.

A Pause

I am still in a good place reagarding Ruby's diagnosis. Honest. But this post is about the pause that I need to take to be sad for a minute before continuing on the journey that God is walking us through. This is not the feel good post...this is the poor me post. The one that complains and struggles and can't stop the tears. This is the post about school.

When Ruby was first diagnosed with Leukemia, I realized that her treatment would interfere with school. It choked me up, but it was far enough away that I could still bury it. This week it has come out of hiding and it is a full reality. Today was Ruby's last day at school until who knows when. She could go back in a month, or she could go back after the holidays, or she could not return at all this year. Between the hospital stays and compromised immunity and not wanting to disrupt the class with her sudden return(s) randomly throughout the year, everything is up in the air.

School is a big deal for me. When Ruby was born we quickly learned about the delays and what we could likely expect from her regarding milestones. The gap(s) between her development and that of other children her age grows with time. When she was less than six months old, it wasn't noticeable, but by her first birthday it was starting to show. So we worked with her on everything we could to get her to keep that gap at a minimum. And because Ruby is a rockstar, she has exceeded expectations: she walked earlier than most kids like her do, she's very interested in learning new things, she's curious and social and easy to work with. So when I started looking for schools, I knew all I had to do was find one that would give her a chance because she would rise to their level.

Lots of phone calls and visits and emails exchanged with one school in particular last fall and spring before we finally committed. Then we met with the specific teachers twice before the school year started, to allow them to meet Ruby and ask any questions they had. I was heartbroken when Ruby then had to miss the first day, but she came back on the second day with a spring in her step and wowed everyone. The loved her and told me every chance they got how great she was doing.

Ruby has been to school a total of four times, but that girl loves it. She lights up when I say the word 'school' and she smiles when she sees her school bag. She waddles down the hall to her classroom, holding my hand and pointing to all of the cool things on the wall. Then when she gets there, she finds her picture and points to it before pointing to those of her friends. And to top it off, she says hi (sometimes) to her teacher and then walks confidently into the room without looking back. Ruby is learning routines and manners and social awareness and all of the things little people her age should be learning. And she loves it.

So when I think about how much I hate cancer, it's not because of the scary factor or the chemo side affects (which I'm sure I will hate soon enough). Right now my hatred of cancer is due to it robbing Ruby of experiencing this awesome class she was given to thrive in. Right now I'm furious with cancer because it is stealing from her the chance continue her start with other kids who, while not delayed like her, are starting something totally new also. Right now I'm mad at cancer because it is taking away a time where she was able to do something that had nothing to do with Down syndrome. Right now I'm grieving the window of opportunity we had by starting with full inclusion at a time when she was the same age as other typical kids, still operating at a similar level. Right now I can't complete a sentence about school without my voice cracking.

I just sat down with Ruby's teachers and told them the news. I was shaking the whole time, trying to hold back the tears. I succeeded until the very end when they told me how great she was doing in the class and how proud I would be of how well she's learning the routines. The minute they started talking about her in that environment, doing what I prayed she would be able to do for so long, I couldn't hold back the tears. Her teachers were amazing, ARE amazing, and I hope she returns to them soon.

RSV

Wow. What a fun title!

Ruby has been so healthy since she was born. No colds, no sniffles...nothing. Unfortunately last week that changed. On my way to bootcamp Monday morning, I heard Ruby cough on the monitor and it did not sound good. That morning I called the nurse and walked through what was happening, but based on no fever, no runny nose, no anything other than a few random coughs (that sounded HORRIBLE!), she told me to wait it out and not bring her in yet. Reluctantly I agreed, but Tuesday morning I was at the doctor's office before they opened. Even though she didn't have any big symptoms, those coughs were just not 'right'.

Ruby and I got in to see the doctor pretty quickly; she checked her all over and asked me a bunch of questions. Nothing set off any alarms with her, but she said they'd swab for RSV, just to be sure, and then send me on my way because Ruby was fine. As she walked out of the room, Ruby finally coughed and the doctor turned around immediately and came back in. She checked a few more things (still fine) and said that they'd swab, but it was likely RSV, based on the sound of that cough. Sure enough, the test came back positive.

Since this was our first experience with RSV, I read all kinds of things about it on my phone every time I sat down to feed Ruby. I kept watching for all kinds of other symptoms, totally aware that there was a possibility of Ruby's cough developing into bronchitis or pneumonia. Yikes. My biggest fear was her breathing and the possibility of us ending up in the hospital. My other big fear was an ear infection. With Ruby's ear canals being so small, the doctor cannot see her ear drum to see if it's inflamed or not. I'd asked the doctor a bunch of things about that, so I knew what to look/listen for, but at 11PM, your mind plays tricks on you. Lehr and I spent more time than we probably should have watching her breathe, watching her sleep, just watching her..... The doctor also told me that she would likely 'peak' around day five. We waited those five days, but her cough only got slightly worse; no other symptoms. After seven days her cough was significantly better and by Thanksgiving, there was no trace of it. Glad to have that behind us.

Angerrrr

Most people choose not to believe it, given Eli's near-permanent grin and happy personality, but when that boy gets frustrated, he has a bit of a hot temper. His anger has been an issue mostly since Kindergarten, but we have had at least a year where it's been in check. His first year of school brought about very frustrating days for him, so he often came home and lost it. We worked through that year and had a great first and most of second grade. However, over the last month or two, we've seen some of this anger come back out. We've seen most and more outbursts from him lately that we're pretty sure is related to some 'playground' stuff Eli has been working through. These fits always include him yelling, stomping, talking back (he seriously cannot NOT talk back and respond to what we say when he gets mad), and often throwing something or hitting a wall or table. It's very stereotypical 'out of control' stuff.

As expected, we do not have any answers as to how to 'fix' Eli. Not that I think we're expected to. We stay extremely calm (like crazy calm) when he gets out of sorts, and we've been sticking with the same consequence for some time. He's not getting better, but at least he's learning that we are not backing down and (hopefully) that we are here to support him with CALM love. (Sidenote about his consequence: he's told me on more than one occasion, "This isn't working, Mom....we should use another consequence." Sounds like a ringing endorsement to me!) His consequence always ends with him calming down and talking to us in a normal way with his usual sweetness. It's almost as if his body is taken over by the anger when he gets going, only to have "Eli" return when it's done.

I'm hoping that we'll see this behavior dissipate over the next few weeks. The change of environment and removal of what I suspect is bringing about his frustration has to help. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it!)

Here We Are Again

Just one week ago Eli had yet another one of his infamous meltdowns. He got off of the bus happy, we had a great snack and 'post-school-talk', and then somewhere during the homework, he snapped. It happened as quickly as it always does; he asked me a question and I didn't give the answer he expected... One thing led to another with his meltdown and several consequences followed, angering and frustrating him more. I think that is the biggest struggle Eli faces right now: he is unable to calm himself down once he starts to realize the consequences of his actions. They anger him more, bringing on more consequences.

Now in a perfect scenario, these meltdowns start and end in his bedroom. I'm able to state my expectations for him and leave him to it. He may whine, yell, or stomp around, but he WILL come around. Once I'm out of sight, the fight is gone and he turns it around on his own. It's when these things happen in another setting, where I can't leave him alone (like the car, or a store, or another part of the house where Maddux and I are).

Today was particularly rough and, for the first time ever, I left him in his room (at 5:15PM) to stay for the night, without dinner. As expected, this was not received well by Eli and I actually had to hold the door closed so he couldn't get out. (Seriously, how awful does THAT make you feel as a parent?! To basically lock them in their rooms because they are so out of control you're worried the damage they'll do to themselves or others....horrible.) About five minutes (five L.O.N.G. minutes!) after I closed the door, he went silent, indicating that he had fallen asleep. Heartbreaking. I know I've said it before, but this parenting stuff is so NOT for the weak! Even though I knew that it was what needed to happen for Eli to calm down and stop hurting himself, me and the house, it caused all sorts of conflicting emotions in me. Had it been Maddux, I could have held her until she calmed down and then dealt with it. But Eli is so out of control in those moments, emotionally and physically, that everyone seriously must keep an arm's length distance away from him.

In the end, he woke up a few times before I went to bed, but not in the mood to discuss it, so we just got him back to bed where he immediately fell back to sleep. Lehr and I, of course, did not sleep well.
The next day Lehr and Eli had a big talk in the morning. It was well-received, as it always is after Eli calms down. Then after school, he and I had another talk. Consequences were discussed and carried out and all was right with the world. The remainder of the week was smooth as silk. The boy seriously could not have been more caring, loving, or obedient.

As expected, this outburst left me in a tailspin, questioning all parenting decisions Lehr and I have made up until now. In the end, I know most of what we're doing is right (for our family), but something is causing such anger in that boy and we are unable to figure it out.

Alien Abduction

I am really really really hoping that is the explanation for Eli's outbursts. If not, I'm not sure what to do. At least if it's aliens, I KNOW there is nothing I can do....instead I pull my hair out trying new tactics every month or so with minimal success.

If you know Eli, you know he likes to smile. He is a happy kid. BUT, when the wind changes directions and it is NOT in his favor, he is a very different child. He will be so fine, so happy, so....normal. Then something will hit him the wrong way and his tone changes, his demeanor changes and he is 100% negative. If some redirection or (gasp!) consequence takes place during that time, hold on to your hats. Yelling, name-calling, swinging fists (a new one), and much stomping follows. And then, once he's had a sufficiently calming time out, as quickly as the spell began, it's gone.

We talk about it during calmer times, and Eli totally acknowledges that it is not right, and in fact very WRONG to treat people that way, especially those who love you, but in the moment he always resorts to craziness. We have been 2-steps-forward-1-step-back for so long now, I almost don't remember what it's like to not bite my tongue so hard it bleeds....

Ups and Downs

And down and out. These last few weeks have been challenging to say the least. We're going through a very 'fun' phase with Eli involving sneaking to do things without permission and mouthy disobedience. Our house is not exactly what I'd call 'enjoyable' at this time...I'm sure Eli and Maddux are wondering what happened to their parents, because the drill sergeants we've become are unrecognizable, even to us. One of the main consequences Eli has earned lately is the tried-and-true 'sit on your bed'. Twice in the last five days he's had to do that for an entire afternoon. After dinner, he was released for a short amount of time before baths. And after that storm, the rainbow came out, brighter than ever...

Both of the most recent occurrences have resulted in Eli using less than respectable verbal jabs. He does a lot of "Weeeeeell, YOU don't get to make the rules" and (we all know this one) "You're not even a nice mommy". Once dinner rolls around and we talk about his time-out time, he's somewhat calm and we have a great dinner. Then comes the best part. He plays with Maddux so nicely and so attentively that I can hardly believe it. This is the exact conversation between them last night, as they were running around and playing with stuffed animals together:
M - "Eli, I love you!"
E - "I love you too."
M - "Are you my best friend?"
E - "Of course I'm your best friend, Max."

I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes. But why does it have to take him sitting out for hours to then be so kind to his sister?!

I'm Melting! I'm Melting!!

Whoa. Meltdown city. Obviously Eli had a busy day yesterday with school and the Braves game, and today was also busy with the field trip and a baseball game, but holy moly, guacamole was that the meltdown of the century! Let me back up...

Eli had a baseball game at 5:30PM. That means we had to be at the field by 4:45. No worries since I always get the kids up by 4PM anyway. Today, however, Eli actually took a nap. And when I tried to rouse him at 4, he was still dead to the world. He wasn't whiny or complaining, but he was very very sleepy. Finally he rose and had a quick snack before Lehr picked him up and rushed to the game. Maddux and I met the boys at the game somewhere around halfway through. (Keeping Maddux safe at the games is a challenge to say the least. Seriously. If she's not running into the woods, she's climbing the fence. If she's not climbing, she's sitting up on the picnic benches (over concrete). If she's not on the benches, I can't find her. To try and de-stress our lives, we drive separately and one of us attends only half of the full game time, which is always over two hours.)

Eli had a hit when we showed up. The team was down a player, so they borrowed one from another team. The boys were all a little restless in the dugout, climbing the benches and messing around. No biggie since that is usual for them, but it was definitely more than usual. The Knights take the field and Maddie and I cheer Eli on (in left field) from the fence. Three outs and they are back in the dugout. This time, as they enter, Lehr and I both see Eli take a jab at a teammate. Nothing too hard, but out of nowhere and for no real reason.

We both know that some of this is in fun and 'the other kids are doing it', but hitting is in no way allowed in our family. Especially to a teammate, who needs to be able to trust you. Again, we know that Eli is four years old and these are pretty deep life lessons we're forcing on him already, but the way we see it, raise your kids as you expect them to go. So we called him on it. Told him he needed to make it right and apologize. Eli got embarrassed and refused to answer us or apologize. This resulted in me pulling him out of the dugout to have a more serious tete-a-tete. Still no dice, so he had a time out. The whole time this is happening, Eli is getting more and more self-conscious about making eye contact with anyone other than Lehr or I. But he is refusing to acknowledge that he has done anything wrong. And neither Lehr or I have brought up the hitting since the very first exchange...the conversation has now moved on to self-control. Eli is called up to bat and won't go. Now it's about being a team player too. Now the Knights take the field and there is a hole in left because Eli is still having issues.

In the midst of this, I need to take Maddux to the car to change her diaper. Just as we're walking back to the game, Lehr and Eli go to Lehr's car. Apparently Eli became so out of control with his crying that it was distracting to the game and Lehr pulled him. So we had a time out in the car. (We didn't just go home because Eli had actually requested that several times during this tantrum.) At this point, we are expecting Eli to apologize to the coach for not being a team player. The game is over. No chance to go back in, but the coach is still there and we have let Eli know that he needs to make it right with his coach before he plays again. Finally he tells us he's ready and we walk back to the field just as the coach is packing up to leave. As expected, Eli gets shy and scared again and won't do it. The coach gives him a hug, but Eli still won't talk to him. Sigh. I feel his pain, but the hardest lessons to teach are often the most important ones, right?

So before he plays tomorrow, he still needs to apologize. Lehr has had another talk with him since arriving home and Eli has assured us that he will say he is sorry because he really feels sorry. Parenting is hard work!!

Ruff N Tuff

Ugh. That was today. Through and through. It started with Eli and his mood from the moment he woke up until just before baths tonight. Part of the problem was two doctor appointments in one day, but the insanity started before that, so not a good enough explanation for me.

First issue: both kids (Eli especially) decided today that rules and Mommy's word do not apply in public. This is a new belief, and one that took me by surprise this morning. We were at Dr. appointment #1 and it was taking a little longer than expected in the waiting room. Since it was a pediatric orthopedic office, there was a nice little play room for the kids to occupy themselves in. The issues started when my kids acted like they owned the place, powering through all toys, talking way too loudly, and giving off an intimidation vibe (IMO). At one point, Eli was on a moving toy and he rode right through a house that a little girl was playing with. And he just kinda looked at her, as if to say, "Move." At this point I pulled Eli out, reminding him that this was not his playroom and these were not his toys (and we don't act this way even in our house with our toys). I then told him that he needed to say, "Excuse me" if he accidentally runs into someone, but to be aware of his surroundings, as other kids were in the area. He gave me blank stares, wiggled out of my grip, squirmed and whined, and told me, "DON'T HOLD ME!" It was a classic case of child vs. mom to see who can put on the better show. Of course my hands were a little tied because the front desk kept calling me up to fill out MORE paper work or verify more information, and we had waited so long that I knew we'd be called back at any moment, so I didn't think pulling him out of the office or to the restrooms was a valid possibility. On top of that, I had Maddux with me too, so I had to keep an eye on her. In the end, he sat with me until we got called back. The visit itself was fine, behavior-wise, but Eli has to wear his shoes at night for another full year. That was a blow to me. Especially because the doctor noted that his achilles tendon is a bit tight. He walks fine and can flex very well for how tight it is, but the shoes need to stay to prevent relapse since things are still not as they should be. Not what we were expecting...

Home for lunch after that. The car ride was full of me reminding the kids how we behave in public. Then it was full of silence as Mommy needed some quiet time. Lunch was not great. The kids played well enough while I was preparing, but Eli's less-than-happy heart got him into trouble as we sat down to eat and the next fifteen minutes or so were spent disciplining. Many privileges were revoked and many minutes were spent in time out. Nap time came and we all got some much needed distance from each other.

I had to wake Eli and Maddux up from naps at 3PM for Maddie's appointment. (I needed to get her finger checked again.) Reminders about our behavior all of the time (especially in public) were discussed. Every one was happy and away we went. Both kids got the flu 'mist' and they did great with it. (A welcomed change from last week's shots.) Maddux's finger is healing just fine and the stitches will work their way out on their own. Once home from the doctor's office, things went high-low-high-low a bit. Nothing nearly as bad as earlier in the day, but at this point I had no patience left. Lehr convinced me to meet him at Willy's for dinner, so I packed the kids up and away we went. On the way, I called Lehr and told him that at the first sign of disobedience or lack of respect, Eli would be taking a trip out to the car with one of us. I really felt like somewhere along the way Eli got the idea that misbehavior in public was tolerated and I was determined to set the record straight ASAP. Fast forward to five minutes later when Eli started to whine and kick up about something insignificant. I looked at Lehr and said, "You or me?" He took Eli out immediately. Calmly. (Calm reactions are always our goal with the kids. We don't want them to get the 'reward' of causing Mommy or Daddy to get flustered and further engaged, and no good can come from us losing our cool during discipline.) The boys were outside for less than three minutes before they returned and Eli apologized to me. We went along with our dinner and all was good.

As we left, Lehr found a hand written note on a napkin under his windshield wiper. If my printer worked, I'd scan it for all to see the kindness of a stranger. For now, I'll just re-type it. Thank you, whoever you are. You helped remind Lehr and I that we are doing the right thing, even though yesterday felt like we had no clue what we were doing, given the results we were seeing.

I want to commend you on your "parenting skills" by taking your son out for whatever he did in Willy's. By taking him out and talking to him outside the restaurant, you showed him respect and also firmness and love that he won't understand for years to come. You must be a great father! Keep up the great work! Blessings to you and your family.

I Never Want To Do That Again

That goes for most of the day. I never want to hear the door leading to the garage slam shut followed by a child crying. I never want to open said door to hear a cry I've not heard before. I never want to pick up my child thinking they are ok only to find myself covered in blood minutes later. I never EVER want to hear Maddux call for me (even though I was holding her) in the sad way she did in the minutes immediately following the door closing. I never want to smudge the buttons on the phone with blood as I start calling Lehr, and then neighbors, before finally deciding on 911. I never want the fire department to pull into my driveway again. I never want to take an ambulance ride to the ER again. I never want to hold my child's arm down while part of her finger is stitched back on. I never want to hear her cry of pain the first time she bangs the finger on the floor after the pain meds wear off. And I never want to see the sad look in her eyes when she goes to comfort herself with her thumb before bed only to realize she can't access it because of bandages.

Whew.....I'm struggling for words right now because the day from 1PM on has been such a jumbled, scary mess. The crazy part is, until about 15 minutes ago, it wasn't too scary for me. That weird calm came over me while everything was happening, but my body is now literally pulsing with the adrenaline finally exiting and the fear and shock of the day's events settle in. Maddux's finger got shut in the door between our garage and house. A very heavy, 30-year old wood door. When I opened the door and reprimanded Eli for shutting it before she could come in, she was crying, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. I should have known because her cry is one that now will not leave my head...it was different. But we'd had a busy, tiring morning, so I thought she was just overtired and sensitive. About a minute after I picked her up, there was blood all over my shoulder and her hand, but I still thought it was 'just' a fingernail issue. Once I got her to the sink, I saw how the tip of her finger (from the bottom of the nail up) was separate from the rest of her finger. Very very separate. I started to call a neighbor to get Eli so I could drive Maddie to the doctor (obviously not thinking clearly)...mid-dial I stopped and decided to call Lehr first..stopped and decided 911 was necessary so I at least knew what to do with her until we got to the hospital. All the while, Maddux is crying her eyes out and calling "Mommy". (Another sound that I cannot escape right now.) Thankfully the bleeding was under control and a fire truck arrived quickly. They assessed and decided to wait for the paramedics to do anything to the finger. The paramedics said we needed to get to the hospital, and I asked if Eli could ride with us in the ambulance. They said to call a neighbor so I wouldn't have to deal with two kids at once. (Something I never considered in all of this.) A wonderful neighbor came and got him and Maddux and I were on our way.

While in the ambulance I called Lehr, just to let him know what we were doing (it still was not really setting in yet), and of course he came right away. The nurses and doctors were very gentle with Maddux and wrapped her finger right up to protect it while they prepared to suture. She was given a type of anesthesia that made her relaxed and kind of loopey. Maddie was like a little drunk person: she was slurring her words and she thought everything was funny. (Lehr got a few seconds of video on his phone.) Then we wrapped her up in a papoose to keep her still and secure. The hardest part was the initial lidocain...they had to inject it into her finger, but once it was in, she felt nothing. I did have the job of holding her arm down while they stitched. I did not watch because I knew I couldn't handle that. I felt a lot of pressure though, and the thought of what was happening makes my stomach turn. The tip of the finger 'pinked up' right away, which was a great sign and she got a new and improved gauze bandage. She EVEN got an orange Popsicle to celebrate her bravery. Then we had to wait for an hour or so to do X-rays (to make sure nothing was inside or broken) and to get our walking papers. Maddux was back to her old self in no time. A few anti-biotic prescriptions and some pain meds and we were out of there. She will not be in the pool for a while (at least a week), but besides that, a full recovery is in her near future.

Funny story...considering all that was NOT funny. Maddux was only wearing a pair of semi-wet shorts when this happened. We spent the morning in some fountains, and I'd already taken her wet shirt off. Then, after the door closed, she soiled herself. Given her hysterics, I wasn't able to change her until we were in the ER, close to an hour later. That meant her shorts were a bit dirty also. So by the time the first nurse saw her, she was already 'that kid', wearing nothing but a diaper.

Slow Week

Sorry for the lack of posting lately. This has been a trying week with the kids, to say the least. Both seem to have a crazy spring/summer fever thing going, especially Eli. If I say 'up', he sits on the ground. If I say 'stop', he is running as fast as possible. And so on and so on. Maddie is not far behind him, unfortunately. It's not been a fun week for anyone in our house.

But as always, it's the silver lining moments that keep me going. Last night (after an especially exasperating day), Eli and Maddux sat on the couch with us to read books together as a family. Eli very nicely, but very firmly voiced his desire to sit next to Maddie. And as we read, he randomly leaned over and gave her head a few kisses. In turn, she rubbed his hair a few times. Those darn kids KNOW how cute they are, I swear. They were just trying to play up to my soft-spot for sibling affection.

Maddux has some new 'stuff' right now. She overheard Eli playing "Red Light, Green Light" recently. The other day she and I were in the car and all she said, for about five straight minutes, was "Red Lyy-tt. GOOOO. Red Lyy-tt. GOOOO." It was hilarious. She also recognizes some of our usual songs in the car now. Eli's favorite is "Happy Day" from our recent church recording. When it comes over the speakers, Maddux can know be heard saying, "App-EE Dey! App-ee Dey!!"

Yesterday morning I was trying to get Eli to obey in one way or another, and Maddux was downstairs by herself for about five minutes. No biggie...the gates were closed and she was *pretty* safe. (*I realized no child left unattended is every really safe. A nanny-cam would point that out to me really quickly, I'm sure.) So we went downstairs and I found Maddux sitting on the kitchen floor with several sippy cups around her, all filled to varying levels. The good news was, she was sitting, like we've told her to do when she drinks. The bad news is, we've been working SO hard with her on not helping yourself to cups and drinks. Obviously my smile and camera-click probably reinforced her disobedience. We've now moved the cups. (She actually didn't spill too much, considering what she was doing.)

The Note

It was planned to be a good day. It is my birthday so Lehr arranged a surprise baby-sitter for me all day. Eli had school for 3 hours, and Maddie and I planned to go to see my PCP while he was gone. Never a fun task, taking a 20-month old to a non-kid doctor's office. I was quite happy at the thought of asking questions and receiving information without having to chase after and entertain a child at the same time. After I picked Eli up, I was planning to visit with and photograph a brand new friend (4-days brand new!!). Once Lehr returned home, I was told the four of us had dinner reservations. These events still happened, but the mood was dampened by "The Note".

Eli was placed in my car with his bag, as usual, by a teacher other than his own. On the drive home, I went through his bag at the stoplights, looking over art work and reading any flyers from his school. There was a handwritten note from his teacher today. And not a complimentary one. I was informed that Eli has been a bit more 'physical' and 'active' with his classmates as of late. She then wrote that he had taken it as far as to kick (yes, K.I.C.K.) a child in his class. To make matters worse, instead of apologizing, he laughed. This is NOT the Eli I see at home. He is definitely a fan of wrestling and tackling, but it's all been done in fun. And the little bit of hitting issues we've had with Maddux have never been bad, nor recent.

I pulled the car over as soon as I read the note. I looked at Eli very seriously and told him he needed to start talking... He was immediately remorseful and seemingly ashamed. He knew exactly why I pulled the car to the side of the road. Eli told me who he kicked and we talked about how that made her feel. We had a good five minute conversation about why we don't do that (even if we're just playing around), and we went over again (and again) that it is VITAL to apologize if/when this situation presents itself.

At this point, I'm shocked. Not that he did this, because he is three and he is a boy and he is physical by nature. I'm shocked that it's escalated to him receiving multiple time outs at school. I'm shocked that he actually kicked someone (even though he assures me it wasn't because he was mad). I'm shocked that he didn't apologize. Mostly it made me sad all day. Part of it is the natural parental guilt/fear that I've done something wrong along the way for him to think that it is in any way OK to kick someone. The other part is that he obviously does not have the empathy at this point to put himself in his 'victim's' shoes. Yikes...too deep for a late birthday post. Good night!

T-Pain

Maddie is not a happy camper. She popped four teeth in the last ten days. OUCH! I try to remind myself of the pain she's going through when she's especially whiny and/or clingy. The poor thing is getting a whole mouthful at once! Until about a month ago, she only had five teeth. The same five she'd had since she was about ten months old. It seems like she's making up for lost time now by growing them all in at the same time.

On another note, Maddux just turned 16-months last week. Eli started walking the day he celebrated that milestone. Maddux, on the other hand, is a sprinter already.

Another Day, Another Scab

Today was one of those days Lehr and I both wished we could go back and do over again. I think we all have moments in our parenting that we wish we could rewind...since that's not an option, we just hope we learn enough to never repeat the same lapses in judgement.

It all started with the red car, which Maddux has loved riding in since the beginning of time. Seriously, she has been riding down the hill in that thing since she was about 5 months old. Always with a seat belt and always with a smile. Today was no different....until the crash.

Normally we let the kids ride down the hill in our driveway, where the end slopes up enough to stop them, or down the bottom of the hill, where the cul-de-sac grassy area slows and 'catches' them. One of our mistakes today was letting Maddux go towards the top of the hill, where the slope is greater. Another mistake was me jumping in front of the car to absorb the impact instead of trying to grab the handle to slow her. So Maddux rode down the hill, picking up tremendous speed, collided with Mommy, who was trying to stop her, and then flipped, skidding along the street for several yards after the flip. Much crying and blood. Much stomach-churning for Lehr and I. Much adrenaline all around. God was watching out for Maddux, because she had her seatbelt on, preventing her from leaving her seat upon impact. Secondly, when the car flipped, it A-framed due to the large handle, keeping her head from dragging along the street with the car. Her injuries came from the initial impact and were mostly superficial.

Thirty minutes of me rocking with her in her chair, blanket in tow, later, the accident was a fleeting memory. She was fine, she had no broken or sprained anything, and her face was on the mend.

The good news is, Maddie's age still puts her in the 'kid' classification, and as we all know, kids are resilient. However, I'm not going to force her back into the car anytime soon because if I can barely stomach the thought, I can only imagine how she feels. Eli is very concerned about her boo-boo...he checks it often.

Same Song, Different Day

So we're back in the time-out-tumble. Eli will NOT stay in a time out. I feel I've exhausted a lot of strategies to get him to stay on his time out square, and we've had some success. I remember a whole week that went by where he didn't like it, but he obeyed and went to his square to serve his time. It was so nice it felt like a month. Now we're back to the place where I cringe when he does something showing lack of self-control because I know what is next. Even if the mood is jovial, as soon as I tell him (calmly) to go to his square, he shakes his hands while saying "no" and starts to flip out. This tells me he doesn't like time out, which means it is a good consequence. But the effort it takes for me to get him to go to time out, let alone stay there, is Herculean, at the very least. (That is not to say I'm always successful. I still have to resort to the crib T.O. sometimes, which I do not like to do.) Not an easy feat when I'm also trying to feed/play with/keep alive Mad Dog.

So another plea for help. I've asked before and you've responded, but I need some more ideas and support. Please tell me what I'm overlooking. Eli is 2 1/2 (he'll be three in August). How do you keep a child in time out without strapping them into a time out chair?!?! (Speaking of which, that used to work for us as 99% of Eli's tantrums would be during meal time. I could just turn his chair around and set the timer - he couldn't go anywhere. Those were the days!)

Oh, and when I picked him up from school today, his teacher told me he had several time outs at school today. So he's acting up all around....the testing of limits is in full effect!!!