Play Group

We went to our first, honest to goodness, at the park playgroup today. It went better than I was expecting, but not as good as I hoped.

I was really scared to death to go, up late last night stressing and then spending all morning thinking through contingency plans. Trying to come up with ways to keep him involved with the other kids, prepared for whatever terrain we'd come across, able to play with all the equipment, if it weren't for the fact that the other moms are such wonderful, supportive, positive friends of mine, I probably would have just kept to my house.



Atti was a big fan of the swings, but the slide didn't do anything for him. Of course, he could only go down if he was on my lap, so that takes a little of the thrill away.

I brought his little walker, hoping that he'd try to use it to keep up with his little friends, but instead he just got pissed off. He recognized that the other boys could do things that he couldn't and it made him MAD. Head banging, full body fit throwing MAD. Which is good. I know him. This little guy is just so durned stubborn that he'll get mad and then he'll get to work. As we keep up with the playgroup, I think he will start using that walker more, and it will really aid his development.

But for today, I can't really describe the pit that opened up in my stomach as I watched my child realize he was different.


It's just my job to teach him that different doesn't have to be a bad thing.

2009 Year of Pleasures #44

We've been avoiding giving Atti any sugar, not because we're evil parents who hate childhood, but more because I wanted to put off a fight as long as I could. This poor kid has me forcing so many things that are good for him, if he knew that sugar existed in the world, getting him to eat the few bites of spinach I can cram down his throat would only be that much harder. As long as he was unaware of sugar, it was one less thing I had to say no to.

I finally broke my prohibition the other day during a super traumatic doctor visit (more about that later), so when Bear made homemade Snickerdoodles this weekend, I figured I could be a nice mom and at least feel okay that there was no corn syrup involved.



Atti's a fan.

A case of the crazies

My little miracle baby will be two years old in February. I kind of can't handle it. I am so in love with this little kid, I want four more just like him. Which of course is kind of a problem.

The story is long and tortuous, so for all the readers who haven't been here since the beginning, I'll give you a nutshell version. I have endometriosis, Bear has male factor infertility, between the two of us we have a less than 5% chance of conceiving. Atti took us eight years, multiple surgeries, drugs, miscarriages, blah blah blah blah. The thought of opening that door again makes me physically sick, but the chance of reward is so. very. great. *

We've actually been trying for baby #2 since before Atticus even made it home from the hospital. With my condition, time is not my friend, and the chances of another pregnancy are much greater the closer you are to the last one. Of course things haven't worked out that way and it might just be for the best, I kind of can't even imagine how I would handle a newborn and Atticus at the same time. It would be like having twins except one was four times the size of the other one. It might make sense, but it still doesn't do much to quell the panic I feel when I think about not getting to have another baby.

* Let me just say here for the benefit of any new readers. NOBODY SAY "JUST ADOPT"! I have many many friends who are foster parents and adoptive parents. There is no such thing as "just" adopting. How you get your family is a very personal thing and varies by a MILLION different variables. This is the way that we need to pursue right now. Thank you for your concern, and rant over.

I was kind of ignoring making any really proactive efforts, raising my baby, happy in my marriage, hoping and hoping and hoping that nature would take it's course**, when finally my disease just wouldn't let me live in denial any longer. The pain gets pretty darn intense. Like, can't function, need to stay in bed because you have no strength in your legs but the pain is too much to stay still so you wander from room to room clinging to walls. Like, I was trying to describe the pain to Bear and he said it sounded like when he had a kidney stone. That kind of cuts through any attempts to pretend that things are just going to work out.

** HA! Yeah right!

I went to the doctor last month all geared up for a fight. Again, nutshell for new readers - I have a long unpleasant history with doctors who don't take women's pain issues seriously. Including being forced to see a psychiatrist who promptly told me to get a new doctor and have a nice life. So even though I have a folder full of medical records including pictures of my diseased organs, I haven't really had reason to believe that I'm going to walk in and find someone who's going to help me out. On my first visit I would have rated this new doctor about 75% good news, but since then I'd have to bump him up to 85% dream come true. Of course, I haven't had to ask for pain pills yet, so that might make a difference.

After a little bit, but only a very little bit, of arm twisting, he put me on the medication that has proven the most effective in the past, plus he put me on a new medication that makes almost all the side effects go away. It's been pretty awesome. The last time I did a course of this drug therapy I gained 40 pounds, was a total crank monster, and had night sweats and hot flashes that rivaled all my 50+ year old lady friends. This time, none of that.

Except on the first couple of days after the shot. I get one shot a month and for the few days after that I am just ridiculous. RIDICULOUS! Saturday night I made Bear put all the dinner preparations in the fridge and go to the store to get me chips and salsa and green olives. And then I spent all day yesterday crying. I'd sit there sobbing and saying, "I know this is totally unwarranted, I recognize I'm being irrational, but I can't he-he-help it! :sob:" I cried because Bear wrote an email I really liked. I cried because my favorite podcast is having a live show. I cried because Atti cried.

I just keep reminding Bear that living with me in this state should make him extremely grateful I'm so even keel when left to my own devices. I never feel like I get enough praise when I get through a regular bout of PMS without him noticing. Maybe now he'll see the way things could be and buy me presents of appreciation.

2009 Year of Pleasures #43

Atti's had my cough for the last week or so, but today he woke up with a big snotty nose, a warm forehead and then threw up his morning bottle all over me.

That part wasn't exactly pleasurable, but having a sweet snuggly boy who just wants his momma? That's not such a bad gig.



I'll be spending today on the couch, holding this little guy while he watches as much PBS as I can stand. Luckily I just bought a couple of new books to keep me from losing brain cells to Barney.

Milestones

A couple weeks ago I got rearended at a stoplight. A poor mom with her two kids in the car had just started driving when the light turned green instead of when the car in front of her actually started moving. Nobody was hurt, I was on my way home from an appointment so I didn't miss out on anything, everyone was properly insured, and I got to feel like this wonderful benevolent person simply by staying calm and helpful. It was one of those rare moments in life when being nice is literally NO trouble, but you still get to feel all good about yourself anyway.

If anyone is in the market for new auto insurance, let me give my wholehearted recommendation to AAA. They took care of absolutely everything including making an appointment with a rental car and I didn't pay a dime out of pocket.

Anyway, California law says that if a child's car seat is in an accident of any kind, even a silly little fender bender, it has to be replaced and destroyed. This seems like one of those laws that made sense when it started, but I don't really see how it makes sense now. It's not like a seatbelt loses it's effectiveness after you tug on it. But, once again, AAA was awesome and they cut us a check to pay for a brand new car seat. Which worked out perfectly because until then Atti was still using his first new baby car seat.

It was one of those things we kept meaning to get around to, buying a forward facing big boy seat, but there was always somewhere else we needed to put $100. Atti is such a mellow and curious kid, he was completely content to just look out the back window as the world went by. He didn't even seem to mind crossing his legs when they started to reach the back seat. He's still so scrawny that he fit the weight safety rating, so we just let it go and go and go.



I've read other moms talk about what a big deal it is to look in the mirror and see this big kid sitting where a baby used to be, so I thought I was prepared, but really, the transformation is astounding. My precious little miracle baby is growing up. I don't know how I can stand it.