Finding the Joy – 1
I literally cringed when I just typed those words.
I am Scandinavian-American. Scandinavians are known for being reserved and generally not showing their emotions in public. In that respect, no matter how much I dislike cultural generalizations, I am stereotypically Scandinavian. I mean, it’s not that I don’t feel emotions, it’s just that I don’t share them widely very often. And, if I do express emotion publicly, it’s more likely to be a negative one, like frustration, than a happy one, like (dare I say) joy.
So, why did I type that somewhat uncomfortable word? Remember how I said I was going to work on being a better photographer? Well, step one on that quest was signing up for an online mini-class called The Joy of Love (cringing again) given by this awesome photographer named Kelly Willette. Actually, step one was finding my camera manual and figuring out what those letters and pictures on that dial on my camera meant. Step two was signing up for this class. It’s running throughout the month of February; there’s still plenty of time for those of you who aren’t emotionally stunted to get in. Just click here. Don’t worry, it’s free.
Our first project was to document one our loved ones in “what they do”. So, I give you Oscar doing what he loves . . . watching a cartoon on my phone’s Netflix app, just as he does every night, with one of his prized possessions within reach. No pressure to make words come out of his mouth, no pesky sister running around him, no dog trying to steal his food and Wallace & Gromit before him to entertain. His version of heaven.
I’m not sure that I’ll be posting photos here every single day (it’s best that I don’t make promises I likely would not keep), but I will be participating in the program each day throughout the month. Who knows, maybe my hope to be a better photographer will help me break through my frozen Nordic shell.
I think this is the first time in my adult life when I haven’t been waiting for something or working toward some sort of life goal. Since my divorce a billion and a half years ago, I’ve either been working towards my advanced degrees or at advancing myself professionally so I would never again be in the position of having absolutely no money whatsoever (like when I had to ask my parents for money to pay for a divorce lawyer) or waiting for a referral, a court date, a visa approval or a travel date to go get my children so my life could begin.
I think I’m at that point where I’m supposed to just live my life. I mean, sure, there’s going to be a job change in the future (this year or next, depending on how long I can stomach this), but right now, our life is sort of ours. Because I’m not obsessing over work anymore (well, not as much as before), I’ve found that I now possess this thing called “free time.”
Have you heard of it?
It’s kind of fun. It’s this time in the day when you’re not at work, on your blackberry, phone or VPN or thinking about what needs to happen on whatever project you’re toiling away on in the office. The time is, in fact, “free.” Yours to do with as you will. Amazing concept really.
Most of this time is going to the kids, of course, which is its best use for all of us. But, there’s a surprising amount of it left over after they go to sleep. And I type this even taking into consideration the fact that Oscar has discovered this “free time” change and revised his sleep schedule accordingly. Nevertheless, even after Oscar’s bonus “mommy time,” I’ve found that I now have time in the evenings to do something that is not work related. I know, it’s shocking, but it’s true.
My problem, though, is that I’m not sure what to do with it. Pathetic, isn’t it? It is, but it’s true. Over the years, I’ve pretty much had to abandon any hobby or interest I had outside of work because, well, work precluded any hobbies whatsoever other than travel once a year to escape work. However, travel is (1) not terribly easy with two toddlers, (2) not something one can do every day and (3) insanely expensive.
I should also note that my “free time” has to be spent in bed. I know I haven’t written about this in a while, but Oscar and I are still co-sleeping. Yes, still. Yes, just shy of three years since our G&R ceremony. Yes, every night. Yes, the underlying root of this is one of the reasons my three-year old has a shrink.
So, I’ve decided that I’m going to try to be a better photographer. I’m going to try to learn what all of the buttons on my fancy camera mean and I’m trying to learn how to take pictures not using the automatic setting on my camera. This, so far, has been an absolute disaster, but I’m going to keep trying.
In the interim (assuming there is a point at which I become a decent photographer), I’m betting there will be fewer photos on this blog. I’ve always known that my “photography” has been amateurish at best, but now that I’ve spent time online looking at sites of other moms who take photos, ugh, it’s come home. It can only get better, right?
You know it’s time
to start potty training when your fourteen month old grabs your leg , says “poh poh” and starts walking to the bathroom, where you find her one minute later (after you’ve wrapped up the emergency with your other child) standing IN the toilet with a newly soiled diaper. Guess I should have listened to her.
I’m sad to say that I don’t have photos, but I thought that would be a show of poor parenting, since I would have had to leave Etta standing in the toilet while I went to get the camera. Some parents (ahem, MOM) would have simply left their daughter waiting there, thinking that their daughter’s discomfort was a small price to pay for the pleasure they’d get from the photo.
Our practically perfect day
I had planned on taking the kids to the aquarium over the long holiday weekend last week. Since I had to work instead, we headed there this morning. It was a ridiculously beautiful day at the coast today. We arrived and there were hundreds of harbor seals out, although the kids didn’t seem to notice. They looked a lot like rocks and weren’t making any noise, so I could see why they weren’t terribly impressed.
They thought the aquarium itself was far more fun. We saw nemo, sharks and an octopus and star fish. We went to see the jellyfish presentation, during which my children decided the presentation was supposed to be interactive. Oscar kept yelling “JELLYFISH . . . JELLIES . . . JELLLL LYYY FISH!!!” each time a new variety of jellyfish was shown and Etta would run from our seats to in front of the screen (below it, of course) to dance for the audience. The actual jellyfish exhibit afterward was a bit of a letdown, I imagine (for everyone, not just my kids).
After we’d been there a while, Etta said she wanted milk. Oscar reached down to her and patted her shoulder and said, “‘s okay . . . Donalds,” which means “it’s okay, we’ll go get your milk at McDonalds.” Nice.
Oscar even did me a favor and pushed Etta back to the car – the entire way back to the car. I hate paying for parking in suburban areas (I’m cheap), so we always find the free parking up the bike trail, and may I say, my son must be in great shape. He must have pushed that stroller close to a mile. Every time I would try to take over, he’d just push harder. His occupational therapist is going to be very excited about his “heavy work” today.
Our day would have been perfect, but our nemesis, Sensory Processing Disorder, made a somewhat dramatic appearance. Oscar used to hate sand. When we went to Playa del Carmen a year ago he would scream even if I would carry him across the beach. He can stand it a bit more now, but there was a lot of sand and tiny rocks on the bike path back to our car. Oscar would convince himself that he had rocks in his shoes and sit down and yell for me to help him. I’d clean out his shoe and wipe down his feet, showing him there was nothing in his shoes, but he could not register it. It made for a long walk to the car, but he made it on his own without a meltdown, so that’s definite progress.
And, after all that, we managed it home (our second almost two hour car ride today) without anyone crying, including me.
Fun with SPD!
Good clean fun
I think they’re starting to genuinely like each other.
When they’re not trying to kill one another, that is.
War
Oscar has declared war against me. Just me, apparently, everyone else is safe. Why would he do this, you ask? It looks like it’s all because I make him talk.
Remember how I was bragging last week about how Oscar finally “got it” and could say “I want” X? Well, Oscar’s made it pretty clear since that day that he does not want to say “I want” X. He wants to say X and only X and I’d better give him X when he says it or all hell will break loose. I’ve been all Super Nanny consistency on him from day one and I have not given in, but as you know, I’m not the only authority figure in the house. Nanny Norma will give in to him when it comes to food.
The rule is that if Oscar wants a certain food he has to say “I want” [that food]. No big deal, right? It is a big deal, of course. I know it is very difficult for him to actually say those words and he not only has to enunciate them, which is tough, but he also seems to have a memory retrieval issue so that just makes things more difficult for him. But, this is not going to resolve itself without constant practice, so I prompt him to practice. Norma prompts it, too. I’ve seen it. It’s just that she’ll give in after a few attempts and give him food. She remembers Super Skinny Oscar, and she does not want to go back there.
This has led to a fairly big issue in our house these days. When we go down for breakfast, Oscar now looks at me and points to the door, basically telling me to get out. Obviously, this is not going to fly, so I give him his cereal [the aim here is to get him to talk, not to starve him into submission] and stand my ground and start with the questions. Do you want yogurt, do you want toast, etc. All he will say to me at meal time now is NO. Well, NO, and then he’ll turn to Norma and say whatever food he wants that I haven’t listed (eg., “No, soup”). She’ll say “Oscar do you want soup?” and he’ll say “NO”, not because he doesn’t want soup, but because he knows that he’s supposed to say “I want soup” now.
To get away from this hangup, I let him say “soup, please” instead of the entire sentence, but that just creates the same control issue for him, it seems. He’s refusing to say that, too.
I had started to think that he was doing this because he really couldn’t remember the words I and want, but that possibility was eliminated today at speech when Oscar said to his speech therapist “I want” X exactly when he was supposed to even before she visually prompted him. Honestly, it was sort of annoying. I explained what was happening and she said it was pretty common, especially with kids with oppositional issues (and boy are those showing themselves these days 
).
I suspect that this is a combination of him telling me that at home he shouldn’t have to work as hard as he does at therapy, a bit of Norma undermining the message of consistency, Oscar mimicking his sister (who is the Empress of No-land these days) and possibly my pushing him to work too hard at all of this. I’m not sure what the answer is, but for the time being, we’re going to stick with the consistency approach (and I’m going to push Norma more on that so we’re consistent all day long). Why? Because “I want” Oscar to start talking.
Pics to prove I’m not actually torturing the kids . . .
Oscar trying to pull Etta around. It was a little tougher for him than it was when Hailey was doing it.
Oscar also built a train track and found a big train at kids’ club the other day. The boy’s an engineering genius.
Oscar Goes to Therapy
Oscar has been going to his new therapists for about three months now, and it’s been fabulous. His therapists are amazing women who are very tuned into his needs. They’re flexible and very creative about finding the best ways to draw him out and get the most out of our sessions. More importantly, they’re very optimistic about his future and see how bright he is.
The first twelve sessions or so that we had with our speech therapist, and maybe the first four with the occupational therapist, were really focused on assessing Oscar’s skills. Since establishing a baseline, we’ve moved to treatment, where we have a list of goals to work towards.
Right now, in speech, one thing we’re working on is building up a set of stock phrases for Oscar that will enable him to communicate with the outside world. In the past two and a half years, we’ve developed a special language at home that has allowed Oscar to get his point across fairly effectively. Sadly, that language, which is composed of a mixture of American sign language, gestures and single nouns that Oscar speaks, is not spoken by anyone other than Nanny Norma and myself.
Our first phrase is “I want _____”. We’ve been working on this phrase for weeks. Weeks. It’s been agony for everyone involved. Why this is so difficult is still a mystery. Oscar appears to have a processing disorder that makes it difficult for him to comprehend what people are actually saying. When asked to repeat the words “I want the car,” Oscar initially would say something to the effect of “pinkabunkacar”. When we’d break it into distinct words, with visual cues for each word, he’d be able to repeat it one word at a time, but could not put it into a sentence.
- ST – I
- O – I
- ST – want
- O – want
- ST – the
- O – the
- ST – car
- O – car
- ST – I. want. the. car.
- O – Pinkabunka car.
Today, though, we had our first co-treat session (with speech and OT combined) and he got it. He wanted to spin on the trapeze and said “psin.” This, by the way, is a huge accomplishment. Three months ago Oscar would have grunted and leaned towards the trapeze and become frustrated when we didn’t know what he wanted. He understands now that words are more effective, so when Miss M opened her mouth to say “I want to spin”, Oscar beat her to it and said “I want pins”. Not the greatest grammar or articulation, but we can work on that next. Even better was that the next time he wanted something, he went to her and said – “I want climb, I want climb, I want climb,” which is kind of funny because Miss M usually makes him repeat things three times, so he’s clearly getting this stuff.
One phrase down, what, a bizillion more to go? Baby steps.
This was the other major breakthrough of the session. Oscar got messy. Really messy.
Oscar hates to be messy. Loves to make a mess, but the world comes to an end if he gets something on him. As you can see from the pictures above, he isn’t really sure that he likes to have a mixture of shaving cream and paint on his hands, but he loved smearing it around on the table. When we got into the car, after he’d been cleaned up, I asked him if he wanted to do that at home and he yelled “paint fun!” Take that Sensory Processing Disorder.
Oscar and Etta Join a Country Club
Okay, maybe it’s not technically a “country” club, but it’s a club nonetheless. A club with an initiation fee and monthly dues with a membership list that is restricted, so it feels a bit country club’ish.
Before I had kids, I had no idea that the lives of very young children were so incredibly busy. I figured one’s infancy and toddlerhood were the periods in a child’s life where the only thing they had to do was play, eat and sleep. And, maybe that is the case, but the child’s mom is apparently supposed to concern herself with where her child is playing, eating and sleeping. . . . and from what I’ve found, the kids are not supposed to be doing all (or even the vast majority) of their playing at home.
From Oscar’s first doctor’s appointment in the U.S., when he was about ten months old, I’ve been repeatedly asked whether he was enrolled in any classes and activities. Music? Tumbling? Gymb0ree? How about a playgroup? None of these things were realistic for Oscar when he came here from Vietnam. Looking back, it was ridiculous that my pediatrician, who knew what was going on with Oscar emotionally and developmentally, even asked. Back then, I just ignored the questions, thinking that if we ever got to a point where Oscar did not scream for the majority of his day, we’d look into this classes and activities thing.
Fast forward a couple few years and we’re at the point where Oscar does not scream for the majority of his day. In fact, there are some days when he doesn’t scream at all. I know, shocking. We have, in the past, enrolled (and even attended) music classes and swim lessons, and Oscar and Etta already do a lot of stuff at the library each week (storytime, yoga infrequently and crafts whenever offered), play at the park (which is usually devoid of children) and have some playdates. The thing is, it’s not enough. I know they’re supposed to be socializing more with other kids, and I know that because I have them home with a nanny, they’re not getting the same level of interaction that kids in daycare “pre-school” are getting.
One of the problems, of course, is that I am not a SAHM. Because of my employment status, my children are not eligible for membership in a lot of playgroups. Sad, but true. Playdates happen during the workday, and since I’m working during the workday . . . my kids are not playing with other kids. Hence the country club.
So, we joined this club, and it’s sort of fabulous. It’s basically just a humongous room with a bunch of different areas designated for different sorts of play with another big room designated for gymnastics and another area with a library and cafeteria (organic, naturally). There were a ton of kids there on Sunday when we first attended, and while most of Oscar’s play was still parallel, he did try to get an older girl to play with him on the gymnastics equipment. It’s a great place for him to practice many of the things he’s working on in OT, so I feel like that’s a huge benefit in and of itself.
The kids love it there. Oscar loved it immediately. He took off after two seconds of assessing the layout. Etta? She loved it after about an hour. Most of the time I feel like Etta has been here with us forever, but every once in a while I’m reminded of the fact that I actually adopted Etta from Ethiopia. Sunday was one of those days. She was very clingy and unsure about the whole experience initially, so we hung out in the baby section where she could kind of get a lay of the land.
After a bit of watching, venturing out into the play space and back to the baby section to regroup, she took the place by storm. Once she had the grown ups telling her how beautiful and brilliant she was (with her cocking her head towards me and grinning to make sure I heard), I knew we’d be all right. She played so hard that she took a two and a half hour nap afterwards to recuperate.
So, at least for the winter, they’ll be hanging out at the club, playing and taking a weekly art class, followed by music together. If this place were a bit like a real country club (read – with a pool, lounge chairs for mom and a beer cart (again for mom)), we’d be in for the long haul. But for now, it’s just someplace for us to escape the cold California winter. All three weeks of it.
Oscar and Etta Go Shopping
Etta’s first visit to a store where she was not locked in a cart, stroller, baby carrier or someone’s arms.
Hypocritical much?
Etta has been able to climb up the stairs for months now, but she’s been extremely reticent to make her way down the stairs on her own . . . until this weekend. It seems that her New Year’s resolution was to become truly mobile, without any exceptions. She’s now figured out how to get through the baby gate, climb upstairs, get her toy (or whatever else she fancies (today it was her backup bottle we keep upstairs in case of emergency)), slide on down the stairs and shimmy through the baby gate again. Pretty impressive, no?
Notice anything about Miss Etta? I’m not pointing to the bottle, which is funky looking only because she’s been shaking powdered formula around in it (although it looks a bit dicey in there). There’s something else . . .
Etta got her ears pierced today. I had so many conflicting thoughts on this, but I’m really glad I had it done. I think we all know that I look to Angelina and JLo for all of my parenting advice, and since they’ve both pierced their girls’ ears, I said let’s do it. Our pediatrician said it was fine and we went to the woman she recommends (she’s known as “The Baby Piercer” around here, seriously). Etta loves the earrings and I think they’re adorable on her. What girl isn’t adorable in (conflict-free) diamond studs?
She didn’t utter a peep when the actual piercing happened. Not even an intake of breath. The only thing she wasn’t into was having a stranger mark her ears with a pen. She did cry a bit at that, but Oscar intervened and said “it’s okay, okay” a few times in a very soothing voice and showed her his new “itsy bitsy spider” app for my phone and all was well. It was incredibly sweet.
Sure, my last post was about watching my baby turn into a little person all too quickly. But that doesn’t mean that I’m not going to push her into age inappropriate behavior like wearing pierced earrings and starting ballet lessons as soon as possible. I’ll just hold off on the bigger stuff, like the matching body art I’m planning on having all three of us get when the kids are older. Let’s face it, nothing says “forever family” quite the same as matching tattoos.
-
Etta’s Hats
Where I’ve Been
