I Only Conquered Europe for the Candy.

More photos with commentary tomorrow. Now I have to go soak the candy stains out of that white turtleneck...

Hope you had a fun Halloween and a blessed Samhain!

9 Out of 10 Doctors Agree...

I've been meaning to post this for about a week but this is the first chance I've had to do so: we got the first official report on Donovan's "learning delays." The report was based on his first appointment at Children's and was about 6 pages long. It was pretty easy to understand but it was written very much in medical speak. The two things I noticed were that 1) he scored a nice, fat ZERO on the autism spectrum and 2) hidden away on page five was this very important medical opinion:SEE? Its a medical fact! A scientific certitude! Empirically tested! THE UNASSAILABLE TRUTH: The kid is adorable!

I'm not bragging--just stating the clearly deliniated medical facts...

I Guess that Makes Me Man Ray...

Meet my son, Nancy Cunard:



I'd forgotten what a great collection of vintage costume jewelry bracelets I have:

Its Great When People Love Their Jobs

I don't want to jinx it, but I think last night was the culmination of the Stress Extravaganza that our little household had been going thru for the past week. Among other things, Mike's mom took a fall down some steps while visiting one of her sons and his family in Denver. She's alright but she did suffer some hairline bonebreaks and will be in a neckbrace for awhile. It was a pretty bad scare for everyone involved, tho, as I'm sure you can imagine. Back here in Pittsburgh our main computer at home went all wonky and we got seriously scammed thinking we were buying antivirus software. That resulted in about 4 hours of downloading and deleting and calling the bank to cancel our debit card and filling out a scam report for the FBI Online Consumer Protection Agency. AND we had to clean the house for Donovan's at home Assessment Appointment. Which was last night. Which is the main reason for this blog entry.

Our appointment was at 6:30 last night which was right when Pat, our contact from the Alliance for Infants and Toddlers showed up. When I opened the door I got a huge hug and a kiss from this lady that I'd never met and who then started fussing over my son, who was just being brought downstairs from the changing table by his Dad.

In retrospect, I'm not sure what I was expecting: a Mary Poppinseque carpet bag full of phrenology charts and 1950's era Geiger counters? Infrared cameras? The meeting was mainly Pat asking Mike and I questions but, the whole time, she was watching Donny and also watching us. It was pretty fascinating and she said a few things that really blew my mind. At one point, Donny ran into the kitchen and, as usual, Mike and I did'nt immediately follow after him. I explained (not that Pat asked) that Donny was a good boy and did'nt usually get into trouble when he was out of our sight. "That's because he's got two invested parents who pay attention to him. He knows he doesnt have to get into trouble to get your attention." ZING! Wow. So we had a nice chat and Donovan was very good. He played in his house, he played with his beads, he looked thru some books and played the piano. Pat was watching Mike and Donny on the piano and it made me realize that she must see a little bit of everything because she said, "That's really nice that you don't pressure him with the piano. Sometimes Dads and sons--well, Dads can be sort of overpowering sometimes..." In the end, we arranged with her for three specialists to come see Donovan at our place: a Nutritionist, an Occupational Therapist and a Speech Therapist. All of which are free--another thing that blows my mind. In a good way.

Pat was there for close to two hours. We went over a buttload of paperwork, clarified various forms and, once we finished, she gave me another big hug and a kiss and was out the door. Such a nice lady--and such a great feeling to know Donovan is going to get whatever help he needs.

Melancholy Baby

We Will Come Rejoicing...

...Bringing In the Rosehips...

My Son the Hooligan

Donovan broke a window at daycare yesterday. Not just any window, mind you; an antique bowed window, original glass, in the little victorian house where his daycare group is headquartered.

The good news is that nobody got hurt. So far, no one can tell us if we are going to get a bill for the damages or not. It was an accident but I really don't see how we will get out of not paying for this eventually.

But the bigger issues are the developmental ones. How do you explain to a kid who can't talk not to throw things at the window? Obviously you tell him the same way you tell a kid who can talk but how do you know he understands? How can you talk him thru it?

Full disclosure: I'm tired. I'm tired of living with a kid who can't talk. I'm tired of guessing what his grunts mean, I'm tired of not knowing what he understands and what he doesnt. I'm tired of trying to play pretend games with him and having him walk away to spin yet another plate on the goddamn linoleum in the kitchen. I'm tired of not being able to have any sort of reward system for good behavior because he can't grasp the concept. And I'm jealous, jealous, jealous of all the parents of 2 year olds who get to hear what their kids are thinking about from the kids themselves. Do you know how fantastic that is? To hear what your kid is thinking at the time of the thought?

Everyone says once he starts talking he won't stop and I'll wish he would. I know that is said from a place of love but I'm calling a moratorium: no one is allowed to say that to me anymore.

We rescheduled Donny's developmental appointment to Monday, which is good in so many ways, namely that its soon and that we have the weekend to hide the incriminating evidence of our raggedy everyday lives. Details, hopefully of a more enjoyable variety, will follow.

Elegance is Refusal

Back when I was a dewy young thing in my 20s, I thought is was very important that everyone knew all about me. Not in any sort of claim to fame type of way--more like, "Hello, nice to meet you, I'm a bisexual feminist prochoice witch from a working class family. But enough about me..." That sort of thing.

I still think its important to be honest but, here on the other side of dewy, I usually wait till I'm asked--and that goes for explaining how I am and why I'm that way. That being said, I'll show a little decorum and not go into how hard life has been lately and how I've just been exhausted the last few days trying to keep up. Well, I guess I just went into it but you'll notice I left out the details. You're welcome.

Anyhow, that's the long way of saying that last night I realized that I Just. Couldn't. Take. Any. More. There was no way in hell I was going to be able to straighten up the house in time for the lady from the Alliance for Infants and Toddlers to come by for Donny's at home assessment. There was also probably no way I was going to get him home in time for it, seeing as how it was scheduled for 6:30 and Mike works late tonight. I ceded to reality and just called to cancel. So, I ask you: bad mother move or good mother move? I'm on the fence but I'm veering towards good. I know that the Alliance for Infants and Toddlers isn't like CYS and they aren't going to take my baby away because they smell hamburger grease when I heat up the teakettle. Still: why take the chance?

Tomorrow I will most likely have a cemetery tour and all my go-to folks for Donnysitting are otherwise engaged. Looks like he'll be riding shotgun with me again.

Another Fine Sunday

Yesterday was a complete write-off for me as I was sick and down for the count. I spent an inordinate amount of time in bed, which I think was the best thing I could do for this cold. Luckily, Mike had taken yesterday off instead of today as we were going to go to the Magnet School Fair. He and Donny went while I laid in bed and whined. I was scared that today would be a repeat of yesterday but without the husband as back up. The fates were with me, tho, in that I felt 10 times better and the boy was a fun, good boy all day. He woke himself up and brought Giraffe Cow downstairs for breakfast. And lunch.
We played at the playgound a little bit, he took a nice nap that let me fold clean laundry and then--in direct opposition to orders given by Amy--I took him to get his hair cut.Sorry, Pink.

He ate like a trooper at dinner and even had a 2 Bite Cupcake.
It actually took him about 5 bites to finish.

All in all a nice Sunday.