In a shopping bag in my bedroom, there are some leftover teacher gifts that I gave to Hayden's team as year-end thank you presents.
Hayden brought me one of these lovely gifts when I was using the bathroom earlier.
His father held his applause until I opened the door and then cheered, "Good job, Cara!" He reinforced his praise by asking Hayden if we was proud of mommy.
Oh my.
Clouds, May 2010
Sunday, July 10, 2011
if it's his idea, it's a good idea
This morning, Hayden noticed a bag behind my nightstand. It has been there for quite some time, but for some reason he first noticed it today.
This is the bag that "potty prizes" are in. I allowed him to be curious and look in it. He asked me about it, and I explained (as I have so many times before) that he gets one present when he sits on the toilet. But I didn't ask him to.
On his own terms, he went into his bathroom. He walked around and started talking about laundry, and the shower, and taking a bath, and anything else he could think of. Then, he sat on the toilet with his shorts still pulled up.
Eventually he sat the correct way, and he wanted his prize while he was there. So with two anxious hands and one very big smile, he unwrapped a cars 3-pack.
Dan called on his way home from golf and said he was stopping for coffee. I told him that H sat on the toilet this morning, so he picked up an edible trophy (of sorts) for him.
Hayden was in his glory. I don't know how he fit that in after eating a spinach and cheese omelette, 6 fish sticks (don't ask), and 2 bags of granola bites this morning... but if it's an important enough prize such as a sacred glazed chocolate doughnut, he finds room I guess.
This is the bag that "potty prizes" are in. I allowed him to be curious and look in it. He asked me about it, and I explained (as I have so many times before) that he gets one present when he sits on the toilet. But I didn't ask him to.
On his own terms, he went into his bathroom. He walked around and started talking about laundry, and the shower, and taking a bath, and anything else he could think of. Then, he sat on the toilet with his shorts still pulled up.
Eventually he sat the correct way, and he wanted his prize while he was there. So with two anxious hands and one very big smile, he unwrapped a cars 3-pack.
Dan called on his way home from golf and said he was stopping for coffee. I told him that H sat on the toilet this morning, so he picked up an edible trophy (of sorts) for him.
Hayden was in his glory. I don't know how he fit that in after eating a spinach and cheese omelette, 6 fish sticks (don't ask), and 2 bags of granola bites this morning... but if it's an important enough prize such as a sacred glazed chocolate doughnut, he finds room I guess.
Friday, July 8, 2011
If the doctor's word is golden, the parent's knowledge is the rare diamond
I posted part of my last blog on the NFXF site in recognition and participation of, Awareness Day later this month. Titled: "Mom, Gad, and Hayden"
I was reading many of the other posts, and not that I need a reminder-- quite the contrary-- I can't say enough how thankful I am that H was diagnosed when he was.
We began voicing concern to the pediatrician when Hayden was about 9 months old. The diagnosis did not come until 17 months of age. At the time, this angered us because we felt an extra 6+ months of services would have crucial at that stage. (He has a different pediatrician now.)
But we soon learned that the average age of diagnosis is 36 months-- so comparatively, we were at least thankful for that much.
I empathize with the parents and caregivers who did not have any definitive answers until their baby was a young child. From what I read, it seems as if many of them are still constantly progressing and I pray that continues.
Know that YOUR word is invaluable and you are all warriors! Every single one of you.
I was reading many of the other posts, and not that I need a reminder-- quite the contrary-- I can't say enough how thankful I am that H was diagnosed when he was.
We began voicing concern to the pediatrician when Hayden was about 9 months old. The diagnosis did not come until 17 months of age. At the time, this angered us because we felt an extra 6+ months of services would have crucial at that stage. (He has a different pediatrician now.)
But we soon learned that the average age of diagnosis is 36 months-- so comparatively, we were at least thankful for that much.
I empathize with the parents and caregivers who did not have any definitive answers until their baby was a young child. From what I read, it seems as if many of them are still constantly progressing and I pray that continues.
Know that YOUR word is invaluable and you are all warriors! Every single one of you.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
a day in the life
Even though I am the one going through the routine of the day, I often feel as if I'm looking in from the outside.
There is this 35 year old woman, whose face and skin may appear younger than that, but overall she also looks like someone who could take better care of herself. (Not to mention her truck.) But her son never leaves the house looking anything less than a ten, and his backpack will always have everything he needs for the day. And maybe an extra one of this or that, just in case.
She is dropping this handsome child off at school. The students are waiting in the front with the teacher and Aides, until everyone is present so they can walk to the classroom together. A few of the students in his program who happen to be paying attention, turn and greet him with enthusiasm. One places a hand on his shoulder, and another says, "Hi, Hayden!" excitedly, closer to his face than is necessary.
The woman smiles at how happy they are to see him. She yells goodbye to him and says, "have a good day!"
"Grandma will be there when you get home," she reminds him, "and then I'll see you later. I'll pick you up from daycare."
He says, "Bye, Mom!" or "Peace Out, Mom!" -- usually without actually turning around.
He has come such a long way-- when he started school a few years ago the separation anxiety was unbearable. Real tears that would escalate into borderline-choking, and the teacher would usually have to pick him up and carry him inside. The woman would drive away crying.
But today she looks at the sweet, friendly kids welcoming him. They are all part of the same special ed program at the public school. They have various developmental delays-- none of them with the same diagnosis as Hayden, but all of them with something.
The very first day the woman dropped him off at school back in 2008, she was not prepared when she saw the other children in the class. She hadn't thought about what might be different. One little boy found comfort in licking his right sleeve; he would be instructed not to, but he'd continue anyway. Another child seemed underdeveloped for her height and her uneven hips only allowed her a slow walking pace. One foot dragged a little bit. Another little girl was in a wheelchair. She had a trach tube, and Hayden's mom noticed her bottom lip was quivering. Even though it was quite warm out, she asked the nurse accompanying this little girl if she was cold. One of the teachers answered that she would be ok, she was just a little bit upset. "You won't hear a peep from her, but that's how she cries," another Aide added.
The woman had to swallow back tears, and immediately thought of the little girl's mom. How she coached herself to ever be brave enough to put this fragile child on a bus to school. Even though she had a nurse with her.
Three years later, here the woman was dropping her son off and again there was another little girl who caught her eye. She looked up to see who Hayden's mom was, and his mother forced a smile at the young girl. But inside she was taken by surprise at the disproportionate features on this child's face. The woman was immediately angry at herself.
The only other children at the school during summer, are incoming Kindergarteners who are dropped off every day for a ten-day safety program. Hayden is eligible to participate, but it is a community program so the school has no obligation to provide him the necessary Aide. Each child's attendance is voluntary and paid for by the parent(s) or guardian(s), not the school.
The woman's mind gets stuck for a moment, mourning what could have been for her now 6-year-old if he was typical. He would be able to read, write, and count on the same level as his peers. He would be a regular first-grader... with normal toileting skills.
But her happy child doesn't know life any other way, and he is not mourning anything. Rather, he is enjoying everything.
That evening while the woman is preparing dinner, Hayden wants to help. He enters the room carrying half of the stuff from his play kitchen, the sedar plate from his Passover set, and dressed the part wearing his chef jacket from an old Halloween costume. Unable to locate the chef hat, his revised costume looked more like Florence Nightingale as his head was decorated with the matzoh cover from the aforementioned set.
The woman began giggling uncontrollably. Hayden began to laugh with her. He looked like the absolute weirdest, most odd, unique, silliest, and beyond beautifully adorable jewish-nurse-chef she would ever see in her entire life.
She tried to capture the memory on camera but he turned his head every time it clicked. She tried once more with her phone, and then decided to join him instead. Together they grilled a delicious (yet non-kosher) wooden hamburger with a piece of plastic bacon.
A perfectly typical 6-year-old thing to do, except Hayden's version was more creative.
There is this 35 year old woman, whose face and skin may appear younger than that, but overall she also looks like someone who could take better care of herself. (Not to mention her truck.) But her son never leaves the house looking anything less than a ten, and his backpack will always have everything he needs for the day. And maybe an extra one of this or that, just in case.
She is dropping this handsome child off at school. The students are waiting in the front with the teacher and Aides, until everyone is present so they can walk to the classroom together. A few of the students in his program who happen to be paying attention, turn and greet him with enthusiasm. One places a hand on his shoulder, and another says, "Hi, Hayden!" excitedly, closer to his face than is necessary.
The woman smiles at how happy they are to see him. She yells goodbye to him and says, "have a good day!"
"Grandma will be there when you get home," she reminds him, "and then I'll see you later. I'll pick you up from daycare."
He says, "Bye, Mom!" or "Peace Out, Mom!" -- usually without actually turning around.
He has come such a long way-- when he started school a few years ago the separation anxiety was unbearable. Real tears that would escalate into borderline-choking, and the teacher would usually have to pick him up and carry him inside. The woman would drive away crying.
But today she looks at the sweet, friendly kids welcoming him. They are all part of the same special ed program at the public school. They have various developmental delays-- none of them with the same diagnosis as Hayden, but all of them with something.
The very first day the woman dropped him off at school back in 2008, she was not prepared when she saw the other children in the class. She hadn't thought about what might be different. One little boy found comfort in licking his right sleeve; he would be instructed not to, but he'd continue anyway. Another child seemed underdeveloped for her height and her uneven hips only allowed her a slow walking pace. One foot dragged a little bit. Another little girl was in a wheelchair. She had a trach tube, and Hayden's mom noticed her bottom lip was quivering. Even though it was quite warm out, she asked the nurse accompanying this little girl if she was cold. One of the teachers answered that she would be ok, she was just a little bit upset. "You won't hear a peep from her, but that's how she cries," another Aide added.
The woman had to swallow back tears, and immediately thought of the little girl's mom. How she coached herself to ever be brave enough to put this fragile child on a bus to school. Even though she had a nurse with her.
Three years later, here the woman was dropping her son off and again there was another little girl who caught her eye. She looked up to see who Hayden's mom was, and his mother forced a smile at the young girl. But inside she was taken by surprise at the disproportionate features on this child's face. The woman was immediately angry at herself.
The only other children at the school during summer, are incoming Kindergarteners who are dropped off every day for a ten-day safety program. Hayden is eligible to participate, but it is a community program so the school has no obligation to provide him the necessary Aide. Each child's attendance is voluntary and paid for by the parent(s) or guardian(s), not the school.
The woman's mind gets stuck for a moment, mourning what could have been for her now 6-year-old if he was typical. He would be able to read, write, and count on the same level as his peers. He would be a regular first-grader... with normal toileting skills.
But her happy child doesn't know life any other way, and he is not mourning anything. Rather, he is enjoying everything.
That evening while the woman is preparing dinner, Hayden wants to help. He enters the room carrying half of the stuff from his play kitchen, the sedar plate from his Passover set, and dressed the part wearing his chef jacket from an old Halloween costume. Unable to locate the chef hat, his revised costume looked more like Florence Nightingale as his head was decorated with the matzoh cover from the aforementioned set.
The woman began giggling uncontrollably. Hayden began to laugh with her. He looked like the absolute weirdest, most odd, unique, silliest, and beyond beautifully adorable jewish-nurse-chef she would ever see in her entire life.
She tried to capture the memory on camera but he turned his head every time it clicked. She tried once more with her phone, and then decided to join him instead. Together they grilled a delicious (yet non-kosher) wooden hamburger with a piece of plastic bacon.
A perfectly typical 6-year-old thing to do, except Hayden's version was more creative.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
icing on the tooth
My younger niece (my sister's daughter) is celebrating her first birthday this week. The milestone is actually the same day as her daddy's birthday :-D
So they had a party-- more like a mini casual reception-- yesterday. As my grandmother said-- (my 90 year old grandmother who scheduled a spontaneous trip to NJ so as to not miss her great granddaugther's first birthday celebration--) "it felt like someone rented a park for the day."
My brother-in-law has two green thumbs and managed to turn a woodsy yard into a landscaped garden that is nothing short of enchanting.
The celebration was not-too-themed, and nothing headache-provoking for the adults. Just bright and colorful and sunny, with just the right amount of fun (because, you know, there is such a thing as too much).
Near the middle of the celebration a young musician arrived to play songs and instruments with the kids. We were gathered in the comfortable, yet beautiful high-ceiling living room with its two-story arched-top windows as he began with a guitar demonstration. I looked over at H and his face carried an odd expression. His mouth was moving as if there was a morsel of food in there, only I knew there wasn't. Then he stopped, the corners of his lips started to fall, and he looked like he was going to get sick.
Both of his front teeth have been loose, but one significantly more so than the other because the adult tooth is already working its way down. Yesterday, at that moment, he began to feel it enough that it bothered him. (The day before it had been bleeding at one point, so we knew it was really ready to come out.)
He became very upset, very quickly. As Dan and I sat in front of, and beside him, he kept taking Dan's finger and putting it in his mouth. He was pleading, "pleeease..." But he could not tolerate the sensation of Dan trying to get the tooth out. He was so conflicted between wanting the dangling thing removed already, but not being able to withstand it. He was simply in hysterics. It was heart-breaking.
We took him away from the guests, downstairs to the couch in the basement. I asked him if he recognized it, as it used to be in our house. He either didn't or couldn't care less (not that I blame him, but sometimes changing the subject has a calming effect). We went through a good twenty minutes of my father holding him, and Dan trying to get the tooth out. I periodically walked away and went upstairs for more paper towel. Or water. I could barely tolerate the scene of his desperation and uncomfortableness. Finally I settled upstairs and decided to stay there. By the time the drama was over with, it was a half hour, & a half a gallon of tears, & a half a roll of paper towel later. The basement door opened and there stood H with a very unsure almost-smile on his sweet, tear-streaked face.
We praised him so much and congratulated him to the point that he almost got upset again (I suppose unable to appropriately process all the attention).
Within minutes of re-joining the party, it was cake time. My niece's
personality just seems so developed for someone who is only in her first year. When I am watching what she's getting herself into, her delicious + chubby + magnificent + sweet + buddha-like features are captivating and distracting.
True to tradition, they presented her with her very own cake to plunge into. When she was done covering herself in dessert, her eyes appeared as if they were floating in her head from a sugary induced coma-like state of awake. It was absolutely fantastic and beyond adorable.
Dan's parents were there, too, and my mother-in-law and I were remembering Hayden's (at the time, confusing) reaction to his 1st birthday cake. Of course it was five years ago that he turned one, but I still recall how stressed and upset he was when we presented him with his own dessert to enjoy. At the time we did not understand, of course, and a part of me was disappointed. Things like "sensory processing disorder" were not yet in our vocabulary.
So yesterday, for me, it was a particularly precious experience watching my niece explore that cake almost as if she was putting on a show.
Hayden curiously, and enthusiastically, stood in front of her highchair during the dessert performance. Then he did something that Dan and I could not take our eyes off of. He actually stuck his finger in the cake, and it landed on some blue icing. He touched the sticky substance to his lips. Not only did he not throw up... there was not even a gag. We were FLOORED.
I caught a picture of the two of them with the icing on their faces and it makes my eyes well up.
On the ride home, the busy day + the exhaustion from the tooth drama, had him half-asleep within minutes. As we merged onto the first highway, a hip-hop song that Dan sometimes sings to him came on the radio. I heard clapping... So I turn around and Hayden, with his head still completely to the side and his eye lids barely able to stay open, has a near-smile on his face. His hands were unable to resist acknowledging the beat. He clapped a few times and then finished passing out ♥
So they had a party-- more like a mini casual reception-- yesterday. As my grandmother said-- (my 90 year old grandmother who scheduled a spontaneous trip to NJ so as to not miss her great granddaugther's first birthday celebration--) "it felt like someone rented a park for the day."
My brother-in-law has two green thumbs and managed to turn a woodsy yard into a landscaped garden that is nothing short of enchanting.
The celebration was not-too-themed, and nothing headache-provoking for the adults. Just bright and colorful and sunny, with just the right amount of fun (because, you know, there is such a thing as too much).
Near the middle of the celebration a young musician arrived to play songs and instruments with the kids. We were gathered in the comfortable, yet beautiful high-ceiling living room with its two-story arched-top windows as he began with a guitar demonstration. I looked over at H and his face carried an odd expression. His mouth was moving as if there was a morsel of food in there, only I knew there wasn't. Then he stopped, the corners of his lips started to fall, and he looked like he was going to get sick.
Both of his front teeth have been loose, but one significantly more so than the other because the adult tooth is already working its way down. Yesterday, at that moment, he began to feel it enough that it bothered him. (The day before it had been bleeding at one point, so we knew it was really ready to come out.)
He became very upset, very quickly. As Dan and I sat in front of, and beside him, he kept taking Dan's finger and putting it in his mouth. He was pleading, "pleeease..." But he could not tolerate the sensation of Dan trying to get the tooth out. He was so conflicted between wanting the dangling thing removed already, but not being able to withstand it. He was simply in hysterics. It was heart-breaking.
We took him away from the guests, downstairs to the couch in the basement. I asked him if he recognized it, as it used to be in our house. He either didn't or couldn't care less (not that I blame him, but sometimes changing the subject has a calming effect). We went through a good twenty minutes of my father holding him, and Dan trying to get the tooth out. I periodically walked away and went upstairs for more paper towel. Or water. I could barely tolerate the scene of his desperation and uncomfortableness. Finally I settled upstairs and decided to stay there. By the time the drama was over with, it was a half hour, & a half a gallon of tears, & a half a roll of paper towel later. The basement door opened and there stood H with a very unsure almost-smile on his sweet, tear-streaked face.
We praised him so much and congratulated him to the point that he almost got upset again (I suppose unable to appropriately process all the attention).
Within minutes of re-joining the party, it was cake time. My niece's
personality just seems so developed for someone who is only in her first year. When I am watching what she's getting herself into, her delicious + chubby + magnificent + sweet + buddha-like features are captivating and distracting.
True to tradition, they presented her with her very own cake to plunge into. When she was done covering herself in dessert, her eyes appeared as if they were floating in her head from a sugary induced coma-like state of awake. It was absolutely fantastic and beyond adorable.
Dan's parents were there, too, and my mother-in-law and I were remembering Hayden's (at the time, confusing) reaction to his 1st birthday cake. Of course it was five years ago that he turned one, but I still recall how stressed and upset he was when we presented him with his own dessert to enjoy. At the time we did not understand, of course, and a part of me was disappointed. Things like "sensory processing disorder" were not yet in our vocabulary.
So yesterday, for me, it was a particularly precious experience watching my niece explore that cake almost as if she was putting on a show.
Hayden curiously, and enthusiastically, stood in front of her highchair during the dessert performance. Then he did something that Dan and I could not take our eyes off of. He actually stuck his finger in the cake, and it landed on some blue icing. He touched the sticky substance to his lips. Not only did he not throw up... there was not even a gag. We were FLOORED.
I caught a picture of the two of them with the icing on their faces and it makes my eyes well up.
On the ride home, the busy day + the exhaustion from the tooth drama, had him half-asleep within minutes. As we merged onto the first highway, a hip-hop song that Dan sometimes sings to him came on the radio. I heard clapping... So I turn around and Hayden, with his head still completely to the side and his eye lids barely able to stay open, has a near-smile on his face. His hands were unable to resist acknowledging the beat. He clapped a few times and then finished passing out ♥
Friday, June 24, 2011
bathroom break
As in, a break from the bathroom.
H was not feeling well this week, and by the morning of his birthday he woke up with a swollen cheek and his voice was gone, and even the presents waiting for him didn't bring his smile back.
He is on antibiotic to help heal something in his mouth. And a pain reliever for comfort.
How do we get the meds in him? Dan sits on a chair, pulls a screaming, thrashing, crying Hayden across his lap, forces him to recline back, grabs his wrists in a human handcuff, and I use a syringe-type-thing to squirt the liquid in his mouth. We sit him up and his red face turns on a gagging expression.
Sometimes we have a mess to clean up.
Although he is starting to get much better, and actually ate a small meal last night for the first time in (more than) two days, we'll have to re-visit the potty business when he's completely well.
Pick & choose your battles wisely.
H was not feeling well this week, and by the morning of his birthday he woke up with a swollen cheek and his voice was gone, and even the presents waiting for him didn't bring his smile back.
He is on antibiotic to help heal something in his mouth. And a pain reliever for comfort.
How do we get the meds in him? Dan sits on a chair, pulls a screaming, thrashing, crying Hayden across his lap, forces him to recline back, grabs his wrists in a human handcuff, and I use a syringe-type-thing to squirt the liquid in his mouth. We sit him up and his red face turns on a gagging expression.
Sometimes we have a mess to clean up.
Although he is starting to get much better, and actually ate a small meal last night for the first time in (more than) two days, we'll have to re-visit the potty business when he's completely well.
Pick & choose your battles wisely.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
potty presents
He sat today. I had to physically show him the wrapped gift, and then he sat on the toilet to open it.
He loved it and did not want to get off of the toilet after that.
He pointed to his chart and new what step he was on, without me moving the magnet over to the sunny side of the tree. And when we he was ready to get up, he said, "fluss". I said, "that's right!"
We're trying.
He loved it and did not want to get off of the toilet after that.
He pointed to his chart and new what step he was on, without me moving the magnet over to the sunny side of the tree. And when we he was ready to get up, he said, "fluss". I said, "that's right!"
We're trying.
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