Sick House
We’ve been hit pretty hard with some sort of icky virus since late last week. Oscar came down with it first (naturally), with all of the H1N1 symptoms. I did not run to the emergency room immediately, but after more than 24 hours with a fever not dropping below 101.4 (and that only after Motrin) and hitting a high of 104.8, I broke down and hauled him in on Saturday afternoon. The verdict? Uh, not entirely sure. He tested both negative and positive for H1N1, but the ped thought that he had croup instead because of his hoarse voice. We discussed it a bit, but she then said, “it doesn’t really matter which one it is, since even if he has H1N1, we can’t treat with Tamiflu unless he’s in respiratory distress.”
So many things wrong with that statement, but I knew that whatever he had didn’t seem as bad as what I’ve heard from other families with kids who have had swine flu, so I let it go. She gave me a prescription for some steroid in case his cough goes someplace horrible, which it hasn’t, although it is getting worse. Thankfully his fever has broken, his GI stuff is gone, he’s eating and playing again and now it looks like he’s just sick. As am I. Bonus. Just hoping that Nanny Norma can avoid it. I sent her packing when his fever kicked in, but she’s been back since Monday and he’s been a mucous machine since then.
I have a bit of a dilemma. We have a shortage of flu vaccines in my area (both kinds, not just H1N1). My office has a flu (regular vaccine) clinic this week, but it’s limited to “family.” I’d like to bring Nanny Norma, since I know she’s had trouble finding vaccine as well. I think it’s appropriate to take her, personally. What do you think? I think she qualifies as family (okay, not legally), and she’s certainly a member of my household. Just wondering if I’m pushing the limit here.
The Speech Thing
I’ve been a bit reticent to post about this, but I’ll let you in on a bit of a secret. Oscar has been talking. Well, sort of. He uses some words every once in a while. He has a vocabulary of about a dozen words now, including ball, bubble, bowl, up, hot, help, out, hat and apple. Most of the time he uses them it’s almost involuntary (i.e., he sees a ball and yells “ball”), but it’s still cause for celebration whenever it happens. He’s still not really using words volitionally (i.e., to tell me what he wants) very often, although on Saturday I almost fainted when he shoved his milk at me and said “hot”, meaning put some ice in this milk before you burn my tongue off, mom. It was the first time he had used words to actually convey an actual concept to me.
You’re probably sensing a lack of enthusiasm from me. Okay, you caught me. I don’t know if I was expecting some major language explosion or breakthrough when we started our three a week speech therapy sessions. I wasn’t letting myself think there was going to be some seminal moment when the floodgates broke and Oscar started talking, telling me everything he hadn’t been able to communicate before then. But you know how it is. You might not let yourself actively think something, but it’s there in the back of your mind. The other reason for my hesitation is that our speech therapist has planted another seed in my mind, and it’s called “apraxia.” Google it and you’ll find it’s not a happy word.
When Oscar was evaluated by oh so many therapists and doctors last summer they explained the difference between a speech delay and a speech disorder to me. They didn’t wrap it all up in a pretty bow and name it officially at that time, but they told me that his delay was likely caused by a disorder (meaning that he wasn’t just a “late talker”). I, like I do when anyone tells me something distressing about my boy (anyone remember my ability to ignore the fact that Oscar’s opthamologist was actually a neurologist for six months?), kind of ignored this label, thinking that they’d change their minds once the SLP flipped on whatever speech switch she knew how to trigger. Yes, I was hoping for some tricks or tools of the trade to be implemented. No, there haven’t been any.*
I guess what I’m finding is that there is not going to be an easy answer to this problem. Oscar has a definite issue getting his words out of his mouth. I can see it when he attempts to tell me something, and then just stops. I don’t know if it really is apraxia, but it’s more complicated than I had hoped. Before this fall I never had thought about all of the processes that have to occur simply to communicate, but a lot has to happen to convey a thought. And, if your brain did not have a chance to fully develop the nerves that link your right and left hemispheres together because of abject neglect for the first eight months of life, the ramifications can be pretty severe.
The upside of all of this therapy is that I have a better sense of what we need to do to help Oscar along. We’re also getting him to communicate more using sign language. He’s a signing machine these days. He “talks” throughout the day, but he really uses signs most of the day in order to get his thoughts across, like when he signs monkey he either wants a Curious George gummy candy (monkey candy) or to go for a walk (using his monkey backpack/leash). Every day he’ll say maybe one or two words, but that’s pretty much it. I’m not letting myself even go down the path yet that sign language will be his primary method of communication, but I know that possibility is out there, lurking.
I know some of you think that writing about these things is wrong. That I should keep matters like this private. To some (teensy tiny) degree I agree with you, but much like I did when I chose to write about my attachment issues, I think there are a lot more people dealing with developmental delays and the like than I had previously thought. I wish I had more to read about this than just the books I have to buy. That I could see it from the perspective of other moms in my situation. I hear the same sentiment in the email messages and the comments that parents post and ask to be kept unpublished. I also just don’t see that there is any reason to pretend this is not happening. I’m not ashamed of the fact that Oscar has a neurological issue that has caused this problem. I’m angry about the root of it, but I’m not ashamed of him or embarrassed of the subject matter. It’s just something else about him that makes him that much more unique.
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*For those of you with kids with sensory issues, one quite cool thing that our SLP uses is a plastic bin with either dried beans or a mix of lentils and rice for Oscar to play in. Oscar had some pretty severe sensory issues when we first met, and I actually had thought we had conquered them (wrong – he used to be avoidant and now is seeking). The amazing thing about these beans / rice / lentils is that they have somewhat of a calming effect on some kids. The first time she brought them out, Oscar went from running wild around his room, refusing to focus, to sitting quietly and playing with the beans. She whispered to me that sometimes kids actually sit in the bin and while she was saying it (and he could not have heard her) he sat down in them. He went from being his active little self to a calmer child instantly, and he started babbling after having been silent for hours. Don’t know how or why it works, but it does. We bought a big Tupperware container to house our beans that weekend.
Nekkid Sunday
Sunday afternoon is a magical time at Chez Oscar. He gets to help with the yard work (tipping over the compost bin, usually) and recycling (threatening to run down the street in an attempt to escape the horror of his home life), followed by his “big boy shower”. All good fun, but none of it compares to what comes next. Running naked through the house and settling down to play. He knows that naked time is limited. He doesn’t seem to understand why . . . the whole he’s not potty trained yet thing, which honestly isn’t such a big deal given our hardwood floors. Nonetheless, he knows he’s burning time from the moment I turn the water off. He now bolts from the shower without even allowing me to towel him off. It used to be a quick game of chase. It’s now evolved into a bit of a chase, but he knows he’s going to get a little bit of time, so he’s now moving into a bit of a routine of things he wants to get done while naked. Chase, then grab a book and read a bit, find his trucks and play, then on to something new. What was new today? The vaccum. Go figure. He hates that thing, but apparently all is well when naked.



“Happy” Halloween II
I clearly have not conditioned my child to enjoy Halloween. Two Halloweens, two abject failures. I won’t re-post last year’s photo, as this year’s is just about as pathetic. Hoping for better luck next year.



And in case you were wondering, he was supposed to be a puppy. Specifically a St. Bernard. He was a cute puppy for about three seconds, until he ripped off the hood.

