Wine Please

In preparation of friends and family coming into town and filling my house with fun and excitement in honor of Cooper’s 1st birthday on the 12th, we have been cleaning. And cleaning. And cleaning some more. And no, our house is still not all that clean because well, we’ve cleaned it like twice since Cooper was born. I might be exaggerating, but not by much.

Justin did some vacuuming and mopping; I’ve been tackling the bathrooms and the never-ending-piles-o-laundry (and really, WTH…every time I go to Target to pick up some more laundry supplies, they’ve stopped carrying whatever I’ve last bought AND they’ve rearranged the whole dang laundry aisle); we’ve been tag-teaming for dishes, toys, and general clutter (I admit, I am a clutter-monster and a pack-rat). So at least we’re getting somewhere so that come this weekend, we just need to do a few good wipe-downs of things and run the vacuum. Or so we hope. We’ll see how things go with weekend.
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In other housekeeping news, Karen over at The Rocking Pony gave me this and I am tickled pink! I swear, she is one of the sweetest people I know.

I would like to pass it along to

• LaskiGal
• Sue over at As Cape Cod Turns
• Tranny Head
• LagLiv

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I realized that due to Justin’s incredibly heavy work schedule in the past few weeks and my idiocy, we never updated you guys on the final say in Gavin’s Child Find testing, etc. The final decision was that he is about 6 months behind for Receptive Language (what he hears and understands), and about 11 or 12 months behind for Expressive Language (what says, his vocabulary, how easily is he understood by strangers). In other words his auditory processing is on par with that of a 3-1/2 year old boy and he speaks like a 3-year old. This has certainly explained a lot of our frustration in communicating with Gavin, and explains why when we ask him a question he sometimes gives us an answer that just isn’t quite right. Add in his stuttering, and it’s downright aggravating for all of us because he’s annoyed he can’t get his words out or get his point across or can’t understand why we keep asking him the same dang thing over and over. And for us…we just have a hard time seeing our child struggle, or hear his classmates speak so much better (or worse, hear children a year or younger have what seems to be better speaking and comprehension skills).

So thankfully we will have our IEP and will be starting services the first week of September. Three hours of therapy per month…well, technically in 3 weeks. The fourth week of the month is set aside for any additional help if needed or meeting with the teacher for in-depth discussions, etc. The neat thing is that it is going to be at the elementary school that he will be going to in Fall ‘09, so by the time he starts kindergarten he will be King of the Classroom and will know the school well.

Guess what I got in the mail today. Guess!
Uh, no…guess again.
Nope.
Un-uh.
Try again.
Give up?
I received the shirt I won from Karen’s puppy pool!!!! Turned out great, huh?

Thanks again, Karen…you really didn’t have to!

I’m sure you’ve noticed I haven’t been over on all of y’all’s blogs. Maybe you haven’t. Maybe you’ve been relieved to not have your comments hijacked by the chatterbox. Well, whatever it is, I have a good excuse. We have family staying with us, mainly due to Gavin’s birthday (and a little because they like us…a little).

It’s been really nice to not go into work and to spend time with them and my kids. And because I’m such a great mom, I scheduled Gavin’s first real dentist appointment on the morning of his birthday. He did really well…a lot better than I was expecting since he gets really anxious around anyone in scrubs. I originally did a dental consultation with my own dentist, but after he left and the practice went to a different guy who doesn’t have children, I figured I’d bring the kids to a pediatric dentist. Wow…what a difference! I want my teeth cleaned there from now on! The whole office was decorated in a “Under the Sea” fish-type-theme, the forms I filled out had the fish all over them, the exam chairs were in various shades of blue, there were fish tanks, and all the kids there (varying in age from 3 to 7 at the time) were relaxed, laid-back in their chairs with sunglasses on while getting their teeth cleaned, staring at their own personal balloon floating above their heads. Periodically you’d hear the dentist counting a child’s teeth out loud, or loudly praising a child for “No Cavities!!!” or “Good Job on Your FIRST Visit!!!”

The hygienist we had was so sweet and patient. Gavin wasn’t too sure about the moving chair, but tolerated it if I let him hold my hand. She showed him the Tickle Brush and tickled his finger with the tooth-cleaning brush several times until he was comfortable enough to let her tickle his teeth with it. He thought that Mr. Sprinkler and Mr. Thirsty (the water pick and the sucker-thing) were hysterical and thought it was great that she could give him a drink of water! Once his teeth were cleaned, he even allowed her to floss his teeth….I was totally stunned! And so proud of him! Afterwards the dentist came, counted his teeth, pronounced him cavity-free to anyone in the office, and since this was our first visit with them, went over some basic stuff (how to get him to quit swallowing the toothpaste, when to call them if he sustains a mouth injury, reinforcing healthy food choices and brushing habits, etc.), and took a picture with Gavin for his personalized “My First Dental Visit” book.

Like I said, I want my teeth cleaned there.

As we were leaving, I saw their “Binky Busters” board, where it showcased photos of kids who kicked their (extended) binky habit. Most of the kids looked to be about 3…but some looked older. One little girl looked to be around 5. Made me feel a little better about Gavin having his until he was 32 months old (I have excuses! Want to hear them? Maybe just one? He didn’t cut his 2-year old molars until he was 2-1/2, when he got all four at once, and the binky gave him a lot of comfort and relief…I just couldn’t take that from him. Once they were in, he surrendered the binky pretty easily). And also glad that I got Gavin to kick his binky habit when I did, before any dental expert got a look-see in his mouth and chastised me for being a negligent mother who will allow her orally-fixated child go to college with his pacifier.

But like I said, Gavin did GREAT! He was compliant, minimally anxious, and was funny and charming when all was done. I was so grateful for such a great experience that I thanked and nearly hugged everyone on the way out.

Now tomorrow is his 4-year old check-up. Yes, I am a mean, mean mom…and a stupid one, too…testing my 4-year old’s patience with health professionals. But wait. There’s more: scheduled 2-1/2 hours after Gavin’s check-up is his 4-year old portraits…this child who can be very sweet and funny loses his trained monkey act and becomes the biggest stinker at photography studios. And I’ll probably end up taking him by myself. Right before lunch. Because I am a glutton for punishment.

I cannot believe my little boy is 4 years old!

That cute child you see is the slooooweeest child. He eats slow, he gets dressed slow, he takes all day to put on his shoes. But I don’t blame him. I should’ve known from the start he’d be one of those slow-moving sloth kids that just takes their time doing e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g.
My due date was May 29th. It never changed (it seems like all my friends and cousins’ due dates were adjusted and scootched around). My pregnancy was remarkably uneventful. Well, besides storing water like a camel and looking like I had elephant legs. Seriously, I had beyond kankles. Towards week 36 or so, the nurse looked at my legs, started laughing and said, “I don’t think those are kankles anymore. I might call those thankles,” and continued laughing. Other than mocking nurses, a 37lb weight-gain, a 43-inch waistline, and an unholy attachment to Thin Mints and Reeses Mini Peanut Butter cups, things were going well:

Like many first time moms, my due date came and went. Thankfully my doctors were merciful and said, “let’s schedule your induction…hopefully you’ll go into labor before then…if not, at least you have a date.” Did I mention that at that, my 40-week checkup, that I was not quite 1cm dilated?
So six days later, on Thursday, June 3, 2004, I woke up grouchy and nervous and hungry and ticked that I wasn’t allowed to eat or drink anything because of the induction and the (slight) risk that they’d need to put me under general anesthesia. So I ate 4 oz of peach applesauce because otherwise I would be so nasty and crabby that I was afraid I’d scare Justin out of the delivery room if I didn’t have something to stop the blood sugar crash.
On our way to the hospital we got caught in school traffic, and since I was already in early stages of labor (thanks prostaglandin gel!), I cussed-out every car we passed where the parents were bringing their kids to school instead of letting them take the bus, and made all sorts of oaths about using public transportation. Yep. I was a bundle of fun and love for humanity.

We arrive at the hospital a little later than scheduled. We get into our room right away and, just before 8am, hook up the pitocin to hose my kid out.
The contractions get strong right away…and during a particularly strong one, around 9am, Gavin kicked in retaliation, and my water broke. Contractions got stronger and I was getting pretty uncomfortable so I got a shot of Stadol. While in-between contractions I was feeling pretty good, it didn’t do crap for me during the contractions.
At 11am I got my first epidural. Thirty minutes later when I was STILL only numb from my knees down and was crawling up the walls from excruciating back labor, we called in the nurse wondering where my pain relief was. At 12pm my second epidural, inserted 1/4 inch higher on my back, was administered and within a couple minutes I was laughing hysterically because my finger could feel my leg, but my leg could not feel my finger! My big serious hairy Russian anesthesiologist cracked a smile and left the room before I could hug him (seriously, I wanted to send the man flowers).
We both rested a couple hours (well, Justin tossed and turned on the lumpy recliner, and I tried to doze in 15-min increments, continually woken up by the auto-blood pressure machine). After our “rest” at 2:45pm, the nurse checked me and I was already 8cm! I asked the nurse if she thought I might have the baby by around dinner time. I figured she had helped deliver hundreds of babies and had a good idea on how these things progress. She said, “sure!” I thought, “great! only a few more hours and we have our baby!” She later told me she said that so as to not discourage me.
Around 4:30 I was feeling a lot of pressure, but was only 9cm. The nurse told me to go ahead and do some small pushes to help the baby move down a little farther. We pushed for about 20 minutes, then rested about 20 min while the doctor and nurses got suited-up and fired-up the fry-warmer. A little after 5pm and we started doing some serious pushing…and letting my epidural wear off some so I could feel when to push. We pushed and huffed and puffed and cussed-out the blood-pressure cuff (it was distracting me and the plastic on the cuff was digging into the inside of my elbow). We huffed and puffed and pushed some more, where I yelled at Justin (and anyone else in earshot) TO JUST KEEP COUNTING! I CANNOT KEEP COUNT WHILE CONCENTRATING ON BIRTHIN’ A HUMAN!!! Everyone began counting then…Justin, the nurses, the doctor and I think even the ladies in housekeeping were counting.
Finally, at 5:34pm, about 9-1/2 hours after it all started, an 8lb 14oz Gavin Isaak was born.

I have come to the conclusion that I can no longer be naked in front of Gavin.

I actually should’ve decided and acted on this about a year ago. I was very pregnant and Gavin was just 3 years old. Usually if I was the only one home with Gavin, I would wait until he took a nap to squeeze in a shower because I couldn’t quite trust him to stay put in front of the TV, particularly if I had to shave (which was a really lengthy process when trying to find your legs somewhere under a big ol’ belly). So on this particular day, he’s sleeping and I jump in the shower. I’m about half done and he comes in the bathroom. I just want to finish my shower with out worrying about what he’s getting into, so I ask him if he wants to come in the shower with me and open the shower door.
G: yucky! (he points just under my belly, towards my crotch)
I look down, but of course can only see this massive belly:

Me: what do you mean “yucky”, buddy?
G: poopie! (he points at my crotch again)
Me: what do you mean “poopie?!” (craning neck to see around my belly and to look on the shower floor to see if my water broke or if I was bleeding or if I lost control of my bowels. Nope.)
G: yucky poopie, mommy. need wipe. (continuing to point at my crotch, this time a little closer)
I look around the massive belly and see he is pointing at my pubic hair! He thinks the wet hair is poop! I start laughing so hard I slip and nearly fall in the shower, which gets me laughing harder. Not knowing what I’m laughing at, Gavin leaves the bathroom to go play trains.
That was a year ago. Since then I’ve been in front of Gavin in various states of undress and he’s not said anything. When nursing Cooper, he once asked what I was doing. I answered simply, “I’m feeding Cooper. Cooper is eating.” Content with that answer, Gavin went back playing. Periodically if he was paying attention to me and/or Cooper, he’d point out that “Cooper eatin’” anytime I was nursing him. But he never seemed to notice that my shirt was half-off, or if he was in our room while I was getting ready in the morning, he never said anything.
That all changed Monday morning. I had just gotten out of the shower and Gavin came in and was talking to me as I dried off. Out of nowhere, he points at my crotch.
G: whas dis?
Me: uh, hair.
G: (eyes me suspiciously, looks at the hair on my head, then back at my crotch) dats hair??
Me: yes. hair.
G: (pointing at my boob) whas dis, mommy? you have red on you belly?
Me: that’s mommy’s breast.
G: mommy’s bwest?
Me: yes. now go play find daddy and play with your toys. out. wrap towel around body and ushers Gavin out of the bathroom.

Any of you have any good stories of your child discovering your nakedness?