Yes, my life has reached a point that inspires me to write an entire blog post about poop. As a child, I remember reacting to the bathroom humor of the men in my life (mainly dirt-smeared neighbor boys and raunchy uncles) with utter horror. Several times I gritted my teeth and thought, "Never, EVER will I marry a man like that and have disgusting boy-children like that. NEVER!"
But when you marry a man after only dating him for two weeks, sometimes you miss a few details. Ok - I can't totally blame it on the short courtship when it was at least partly blind love. He told me his favorite movies were "When Harry Met Sally" and "There's Something About Mary." I just chose to focus on how sweet his first choice was and ignore the second. I also should have known what was coming when he told me his family considers one's poop to be a great source of medical information and therefore they discuss it regularly (no pun intended).
In any case, here I am, the wife of a man who gets endless joy out of horrifying me with typical "guy" humor. For instance, our nephew Alex came to visit from Texas this week and so not only did Robbie spend the entire visit wrestling with him and our little cousin Ricky, I also heard numerous comments from him along the lines of, "I'm going to sit on your face and fart!" Then he would make a farting noise and all the boys, including my only 18-month-old son, would giggle.
People wonder why I am so terrified of having not one - but TWO - sons. Can't they see I am drowning in the testosterone?!
As if the bathroom humor weren't enough, I also have to deal with the real poop deal on a daily basis. Every morning I wake up and start my morning by changing a poopy diaper, yelling at Robbie for leaving a stinky bathroom, scooping dog poop out of the dog's litter box, and trying to find one minute of my own time to elegantly retire to the "abode," which usually ends with Emerson flinging open the bathroom door (it doesn't latch properly) and whining to be picked up. Pretty soon we are going to add to this mix yet another boy who, for at least the first few months of life, will contribute half a dozen more mustard-yellow poopy diapers to a day already brimming with....well, you get the point.
After that, the years stretch out ahead of us, filled with belching competitions, feigned farts and poop jokes. I'll do my best (for the sake of my sons' future spouses) to counterbalance their education with lessons in things like table etiquette, proper cleaning, cooking and gift buying 101.
[Which brings me to a strange side-note. I was looking at reviews of Danish aebleskiver pans the other day - in the hopes of reviving my grandmother's tradition of making them on Christmas morning - when I came across this quote:
"I want to teach my sons how to cook aebleskivers themselves because they will be out on their own soon, and it never hurts to be able to attract a woman who loves Danish delicacies."
I found this immensely humorous for some reason. What does a woman who loves Danish delicacies look like - and do my sons really want to attract her?]
Anyway, I suppose poop and other disgusting things are ingrained somehow in the y chromosome. I once had a boyfriend that I thought would definitely break the stereotype. He was snooty and fastidious all rolled up in an effeminate package - certainly not the sort to tell a bathroom joke or see a Jim Carrey movie. But, alas, even he eventually revealed a secret delight in discussing all things feces.
I guess the point is that I know probably shouldn't be so hard on my husband. I'll still grit my teeth and give him the stink-eye whenever he says or does something nasty, but sooner or later I have to accept my fate. I love him dearly and I will love both our sons just as much....even after they learn to play the national anthem with their armpits.
Monday, July 21, 2008
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
My (Over) Extended Metaphor
This week I am attending an intensive course about World Religions and a major part of the class is visiting various temples/mosques/churches/centers/etc. to learn first-hand about those religious communities. So far we have been to a Native American community center, a Hindu temple, a Jain temple and an interfaith labyrinth at a Presbyterian Church. Since it's only Tuesday, you can imagine how many more there are to come!
Each visit has been profound in different ways, but the labyrinth was especially moving for me when it comes to my view of parenting. If you're not familiar with a labyrinth, they are not mazes in that you can't get lost - you follow a winding path to the center while meditating/praying and then follow the path back out again. (see http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/68/Labyrinth_at_Chartres_Cathedral.JPG for a pic of the labyrinth this one was modeled after)
The interesting thing about labyrinths is that everyone uses their own contemplative approach and therefore they interpret the metaphor of walking the path differently. For me it was inward-focused meditation and as I entered the path, I tried to think about what kinds of things I need to "let go" of in my life. It didn't take long for my mind to focus on the pain and frustration of dealing with albinism and how I can approach the possibility of having two young sons with special needs. I know that as Emerson gets older and more aware of the world around him, it's becoming increasingly important for me to approach our family challenges with more strength and optimism.
The thing about the labyrinth path - especially when you walk with a large group of people going at different speeds and in different directions - is that at times it's easy to think that somehow you got turned around and "messed up." Sometimes the path leads you close to the center and you think you're almost done, then suddenly you find yourself on the outer edge again. The hard part is trusting yourself enough to keep walking forward and only focus on what's immediately ahead. This is the second time I've done a labyrinth walk and yet I still had doubts along the way.
What came out of this experience was the realization that in many ways, parenting Emerson is my labyrinth. The parenting path I laid out in my mind before he was born was certainly very simple and clear, but what I got was a path full of twists and turns! I constantly doubt myself and beat myself up for "messing up," but there's no going back. I think the hardest part of our journey so far is that lack of control ...not being able to see where the path is heading.
The labyrinth offered the perfect metaphor for what I've known all along - I need to focus on what's immediately ahead. I should say that I personally don't believe in divine plans or destiny, so in that sense I don't think the way is already laid out. But I do believe that I have to make critical choices: I can choose to move forward resolutely or I can choose to waste time retracing my steps and trying to discern what's coming up.
How I move forward and become a good example for my sons will take a lot more time and reflection and discipline. I probably won't stop writing "depressing" posts (as much as some friends and family wish I would!) because I find this forum to be very therapeutic for myself and other parents of children with albinism who are dealing with similar issues in similar ways. But obviously I still have work to do on my own.
To finally beat this metaphorical horse to death, I just want to recognize that every parent has twists and turns in their path. Some have more than others; some are more obvious or dramatic than others...whatever it looks like, parenting is rarely simple or clear. I'm just glad to have crossed paths with so many amazing parents and wish every one the strength to keep moving forward!
Each visit has been profound in different ways, but the labyrinth was especially moving for me when it comes to my view of parenting. If you're not familiar with a labyrinth, they are not mazes in that you can't get lost - you follow a winding path to the center while meditating/praying and then follow the path back out again. (see http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/6/68/Labyrinth_at_Chartres_Cathedral.JPG for a pic of the labyrinth this one was modeled after)
The interesting thing about labyrinths is that everyone uses their own contemplative approach and therefore they interpret the metaphor of walking the path differently. For me it was inward-focused meditation and as I entered the path, I tried to think about what kinds of things I need to "let go" of in my life. It didn't take long for my mind to focus on the pain and frustration of dealing with albinism and how I can approach the possibility of having two young sons with special needs. I know that as Emerson gets older and more aware of the world around him, it's becoming increasingly important for me to approach our family challenges with more strength and optimism.
The thing about the labyrinth path - especially when you walk with a large group of people going at different speeds and in different directions - is that at times it's easy to think that somehow you got turned around and "messed up." Sometimes the path leads you close to the center and you think you're almost done, then suddenly you find yourself on the outer edge again. The hard part is trusting yourself enough to keep walking forward and only focus on what's immediately ahead. This is the second time I've done a labyrinth walk and yet I still had doubts along the way.
What came out of this experience was the realization that in many ways, parenting Emerson is my labyrinth. The parenting path I laid out in my mind before he was born was certainly very simple and clear, but what I got was a path full of twists and turns! I constantly doubt myself and beat myself up for "messing up," but there's no going back. I think the hardest part of our journey so far is that lack of control ...not being able to see where the path is heading.
The labyrinth offered the perfect metaphor for what I've known all along - I need to focus on what's immediately ahead. I should say that I personally don't believe in divine plans or destiny, so in that sense I don't think the way is already laid out. But I do believe that I have to make critical choices: I can choose to move forward resolutely or I can choose to waste time retracing my steps and trying to discern what's coming up.
How I move forward and become a good example for my sons will take a lot more time and reflection and discipline. I probably won't stop writing "depressing" posts (as much as some friends and family wish I would!) because I find this forum to be very therapeutic for myself and other parents of children with albinism who are dealing with similar issues in similar ways. But obviously I still have work to do on my own.
To finally beat this metaphorical horse to death, I just want to recognize that every parent has twists and turns in their path. Some have more than others; some are more obvious or dramatic than others...whatever it looks like, parenting is rarely simple or clear. I'm just glad to have crossed paths with so many amazing parents and wish every one the strength to keep moving forward!
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Celebrate!! I Think...
Ever since the day Emerson started crawling, I looked forward to posting the exciting news that he was officially walking. I don't know why experience hasn't taught me better by now, but I assumed that once he got a few practice sessions under his belt, he would take off on his own at last. And when that happened -ta da!! he's walking!!! I even told Robbie I wanted to throw a mass party for the occassion and invite all the friends and family who've listened to us worry and gripe about it for months on end.
However, Emerson had a different plan in mind. The night before I left to visit Utah, Robbie decided to give an old trick another try. For a while we could get him to stand for a couple seconds before throwing himself into our arms. Pretty soon he caught on and instead went limp in anticipation, so we eventually gave up trying.
Anyway, Robbie tried it again and to our amazement, he took a couple of steps! We tried more and more, getting a little further apart each time until he was walking the length of the living room!
Robbie and I both said we didn't care if he took his first steps at grandma and grandpa's house when we weren't around - we just wanted him to learn. But after that exciting night, we were glad that he timed this momentous occassion so perfectly.
Since we've been in Utah, grandma and grandpa have worked diligently to take this initial success and make it official, but Emerson can out-stubborn the best of them. Some days he's willing to toddle between outstretched arms for several minutes (earning massive cheers and applause from his audience), other days he employs the totally limp or totally stiff technique along with screaming protests. One step forward, one step back...literally.
Tomorrow afternoon I leave for my week-long intensive class and Emerson will be staying with his grandparents here in Utah. They are determined that he'll practice his walking skills as long as it takes, but for the sake of their sanity I hope they don't work too hard!
Sometimes I get overwhelmed when I think about how hard we have to work to get him to hit every milestone and how many more milestones stretch out ahead of us. I'm trying to adopt the "who cares...he'll do it when he does it" approach, but that laid back attitude is hard to maintain when endless therapists and doctors question you weekly on his progress, what you as parents are doing or not doing, what he should be doing and what we need to do to make it happen. Every few months we get a stack of papers evaluating all his milestones and goals and then listing activities we need to do. It's very helpful to have, but also daunting when most days you're just trying to survive.
I wonder how many parents out there even know that holding three objects at one time is a major cognitive milestone much less know when their child reached this milestone? Their child just does it one day without fanfare or pushing and they blithely move on. Oi...sometimes ignorance truly is bliss!
However, Emerson had a different plan in mind. The night before I left to visit Utah, Robbie decided to give an old trick another try. For a while we could get him to stand for a couple seconds before throwing himself into our arms. Pretty soon he caught on and instead went limp in anticipation, so we eventually gave up trying.
Anyway, Robbie tried it again and to our amazement, he took a couple of steps! We tried more and more, getting a little further apart each time until he was walking the length of the living room!
Robbie and I both said we didn't care if he took his first steps at grandma and grandpa's house when we weren't around - we just wanted him to learn. But after that exciting night, we were glad that he timed this momentous occassion so perfectly.
Since we've been in Utah, grandma and grandpa have worked diligently to take this initial success and make it official, but Emerson can out-stubborn the best of them. Some days he's willing to toddle between outstretched arms for several minutes (earning massive cheers and applause from his audience), other days he employs the totally limp or totally stiff technique along with screaming protests. One step forward, one step back...literally.
Tomorrow afternoon I leave for my week-long intensive class and Emerson will be staying with his grandparents here in Utah. They are determined that he'll practice his walking skills as long as it takes, but for the sake of their sanity I hope they don't work too hard!
Sometimes I get overwhelmed when I think about how hard we have to work to get him to hit every milestone and how many more milestones stretch out ahead of us. I'm trying to adopt the "who cares...he'll do it when he does it" approach, but that laid back attitude is hard to maintain when endless therapists and doctors question you weekly on his progress, what you as parents are doing or not doing, what he should be doing and what we need to do to make it happen. Every few months we get a stack of papers evaluating all his milestones and goals and then listing activities we need to do. It's very helpful to have, but also daunting when most days you're just trying to survive.
I wonder how many parents out there even know that holding three objects at one time is a major cognitive milestone much less know when their child reached this milestone? Their child just does it one day without fanfare or pushing and they blithely move on. Oi...sometimes ignorance truly is bliss!
Sunday, June 15, 2008
A Tribute to My Dad
I decided that since I did a Mother's Day tribute in words, I would do a Father's Day tribute in pictures:
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
In the mother-hood
Apparently there is something in my town's water because pregnant women are popping up (or rather out) everywhere! On our little section of the street alone there are three of us pregnant due September, October/November, and December. And since another neighbor already has an 8-month-old and we already have Emerson, that will make 5 little ones by January. Heaven help us!
I feel so lucky to have such great neighbors and it's been nice to share pregnancy with close friends this time. (We were the first of our original group of friends to get pregnant the first time, so rather than comparing pregnancy symptoms, they just kept asking me what the heck I was thinking!)
But the other day us preggos got into a discussion about childcare issues and it came up that all of them are eventually either doing part-time or full-time work and putting their kids in daycare. I realized that once all the babies are here, I'll still be the only full-time stay at home mom on the street. Among my 11 "mommy" or "mommy-to-be" friends, only 4 are full-time stay at home, which is amazing when you think about the fact that only 30 years ago nearly every woman in my mother's generation stayed at home!
Don't get me wrong, I certainly don't want to go back to those days. I am so grateful for all the feminists who have worked for generations to give us the choices we enjoy today. And I certainly don't think one childcare arrangement is better than another. It just feels strange to be such an anachronism...and it's a little lonely.
I realize now more than ever how amazing the "baby posse" was when Emerson was first born. It was a group of us that met in our natural childbirth class and we all ended up having boys within a month or two of each other. Every week, no matter how hard it had been, I knew I could look forward to spending a Friday afternoon talking and eating with a group of friends while our little guys did their thing. We compared notes, eased each other's fears, vented about hardships, celebrated the accomplishments, and in general kept each other sane.
After a year, Michigan's economy forced three of the five of them to move to other states, and the other mother returned to work part-time. I still try to get together with her and other part-time working moms I know, but scheduling around naptimes is hard enough without work schedules, so our get-togethers are scattered at best.
There are a couple mom's groups in this area, but the wide age ranges and high number of participants makes it nearly impossible to carry on a meaningful conversation. Not to mention that they are based on a certain parenting theory which, even though I agree with, many of the parents view as dogma. I think parents are too judgmental of each other as it is, so I don't want to sit around and bitch about those "bad" parents who don't follow the parenting theory I espouse.
The importance of being around other moms really hit me last week when we got together with some friends who have a 14-month-old boy. (We don't get to see them much since they live so far away.)
I have to admit, we were SO excited to see them struggling to diaper their son as he writhed and wriggled. The mom confessed that she has been brought to tears of frustration by diaper changes - especially since little boys always try to grab for their poop-covered crotches and then proceed to wipe the mess all over their hair, floor, clothes, etc. I wanted to hug her I was so relieved to learn that I wasn't the only one struggling with this! I kept beating myself up over the fact that a simple diaper change turned into a nuclear disaster almost every day. I figured other parents had it down and there was something wrong with me!
Hopefully just being around my neighbors as all our babies grow together will help in the same way, even if we can't talk for hours on a Friday afternoon. And who knows - maybe another "baby posse" will take form someday? In the meantime, I take comfort in a little bit of trivia I learned recently:
There are times when I feel overwhelmed by the one child I do have, so I try to think about all the tribal women in National Geographic who sling babies on their backs as they work the fields, cook, clean and generally scrape out an existence for their families. If they can do it under those circumstances, what the hell is wrong with me?
Then our neighbors who study monkeys in Ethiopia mentioned that tribal women there not only have the benefits of help from the other mothers in the tribe, they also expect that a young woman will come and live with them to help take care of the children in exchange for room and board. So I guess even the toughest women need some help.
Maybe I should just move to Ethiopia!
I feel so lucky to have such great neighbors and it's been nice to share pregnancy with close friends this time. (We were the first of our original group of friends to get pregnant the first time, so rather than comparing pregnancy symptoms, they just kept asking me what the heck I was thinking!)
But the other day us preggos got into a discussion about childcare issues and it came up that all of them are eventually either doing part-time or full-time work and putting their kids in daycare. I realized that once all the babies are here, I'll still be the only full-time stay at home mom on the street. Among my 11 "mommy" or "mommy-to-be" friends, only 4 are full-time stay at home, which is amazing when you think about the fact that only 30 years ago nearly every woman in my mother's generation stayed at home!
Don't get me wrong, I certainly don't want to go back to those days. I am so grateful for all the feminists who have worked for generations to give us the choices we enjoy today. And I certainly don't think one childcare arrangement is better than another. It just feels strange to be such an anachronism...and it's a little lonely.
I realize now more than ever how amazing the "baby posse" was when Emerson was first born. It was a group of us that met in our natural childbirth class and we all ended up having boys within a month or two of each other. Every week, no matter how hard it had been, I knew I could look forward to spending a Friday afternoon talking and eating with a group of friends while our little guys did their thing. We compared notes, eased each other's fears, vented about hardships, celebrated the accomplishments, and in general kept each other sane.
After a year, Michigan's economy forced three of the five of them to move to other states, and the other mother returned to work part-time. I still try to get together with her and other part-time working moms I know, but scheduling around naptimes is hard enough without work schedules, so our get-togethers are scattered at best.
There are a couple mom's groups in this area, but the wide age ranges and high number of participants makes it nearly impossible to carry on a meaningful conversation. Not to mention that they are based on a certain parenting theory which, even though I agree with, many of the parents view as dogma. I think parents are too judgmental of each other as it is, so I don't want to sit around and bitch about those "bad" parents who don't follow the parenting theory I espouse.
The importance of being around other moms really hit me last week when we got together with some friends who have a 14-month-old boy. (We don't get to see them much since they live so far away.)
I have to admit, we were SO excited to see them struggling to diaper their son as he writhed and wriggled. The mom confessed that she has been brought to tears of frustration by diaper changes - especially since little boys always try to grab for their poop-covered crotches and then proceed to wipe the mess all over their hair, floor, clothes, etc. I wanted to hug her I was so relieved to learn that I wasn't the only one struggling with this! I kept beating myself up over the fact that a simple diaper change turned into a nuclear disaster almost every day. I figured other parents had it down and there was something wrong with me!
Hopefully just being around my neighbors as all our babies grow together will help in the same way, even if we can't talk for hours on a Friday afternoon. And who knows - maybe another "baby posse" will take form someday? In the meantime, I take comfort in a little bit of trivia I learned recently:
There are times when I feel overwhelmed by the one child I do have, so I try to think about all the tribal women in National Geographic who sling babies on their backs as they work the fields, cook, clean and generally scrape out an existence for their families. If they can do it under those circumstances, what the hell is wrong with me?
Then our neighbors who study monkeys in Ethiopia mentioned that tribal women there not only have the benefits of help from the other mothers in the tribe, they also expect that a young woman will come and live with them to help take care of the children in exchange for room and board. So I guess even the toughest women need some help.
Maybe I should just move to Ethiopia!
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
It's a.....
BOY
Thanks to all of you who sent girly thoughts my way, but I guess dresses and bows are not in my future.
Thanks to all of you who sent girly thoughts my way, but I guess dresses and bows are not in my future.
Friday, May 30, 2008
Great Expectations
The negative (skip to the positive section below unless you're having a downer day)
These days I spend a lot of my time being dragged around by Emerson as he practices walking - he directs me by holding on to one finger and I am forced to retrace whatever 20 feet or so of sidewalk/grass he happens to be obsessed with that day. Or we walk around the block while he tries to explore everyone's front porch (he has a thing for stairs) and I desperately try to pull him away from walking up to strangers' houses. The point being that I have way too much time to think about how insipid motherhood can be.
Before Emerson was born, I imagined by this point in his development I would be delighting in the new things he would be learning every day and I would enjoy taking him on excursions to festivals, museums, parades, etc. I would be teaching him sign language and French, showing him to great works of art, and promoting his budding music skills. Instead, I spend my days begging him to walk and talk on his own. Just a single word - doggie, baba, shit for all I care - just any word!! He could care less about the events we take him to, which I'm sure has a lot to do with vision, but I keep hoping at least the colors and sounds and movement will interest him. He'd rather practice walking.
During pregnancy, even hearing the phrase "developmental delays" sent a shiver down my spine, so having it come true has been.....well, in ministry we call it "exploring our learning edges." In life I call it just plain crappy. I have been thinking a lot lately about why this problem bothers me so much - much more than the average person. The psychoanalyst part of me thinks it must be related to my type-A personality and growing up in a state who's mascot is a hive of busy bees. We Utahns still haven't gotten over our Mormon pioneer ethic of achievement and working until you drop (or until the Second-Coming, whichever comes first).
There is another part of it besides my impatient personality, though. A lot of other parents whose children did things early or on-time keep feeding us the same line: Don't worry, he'll be walking/talking before you know it, then you'll look back and wonder why you ever wanted him to do it!
Don't get me wrong - I miss those days when we could stick him on a blanket and he would be happy and stationary just as much as anyone. But I think people don't realize that even though his other areas of development are behind, his cognitive development is not. This means that when he turned 6 or so months old, he had the same drive and frustration about moving independently as his same-age friends. The difference is that his friends mastered crawling within a couple months, while it took him 6 months. The same goes for walking and talking - he's frustrated, we are frustrated, and this has been going on for another 6 months with no immediate end in sight.
Trust me, I have never wanted to go back to his pre-crawling days, and I promise you I will feel the same way when he masters the other major skills!
The positive
Ok, enough venting. Although Emerson's progress is not what we hoped, we do try to take comfort in some of the things he has picked up over the past few months. Such as:
- Dancing (this milestone was slow in coming too, but now that he's caught on, he dances to EVERYTHING. His favorite is turning on the clock radio by our bed first thing in the morning and rocking out to 80s-90s music).
- Pretending (with a little pushing, he will now pretend to feed a doll, brush our hair, "share" his crackers with me, etc. Not engaging in pretend play is an autism red flag, so his development in this area has been reassuring).
- Some sign language.
- Fake coughing (he picked this one up out of nowhere. He even covers his mouth ever so politely!)
- Throwing a ball...and anything else he can get airborne (unfortunately he also learned that he can throw objects at the dog's face to get her to leave him alone. We're going to have to work on curbing that one.)
- Climbing on all the furniture (the kid won't stand, but he'll dive head first off a chair!)
- And finally, eating everything in sight.
So we are enjoying these new things and mostly enjoying his very funny, unique personality that shines through more every day. We are going to Utah in another week and grandma and grandpa always get him to do new things, so I'm looking forward to that too.
As frustrated as I get most days, I am doing my best to keep perspective on what's ultimately important: having healthy and happy children. A friend's recent blog post about her nightmare experience in the hospital with an incredibly sick toddler and a dream I had about losing this second baby have reminded me of just how precious life really is.....even if things aren't turning out exactly as you expect them to.
These days I spend a lot of my time being dragged around by Emerson as he practices walking - he directs me by holding on to one finger and I am forced to retrace whatever 20 feet or so of sidewalk/grass he happens to be obsessed with that day. Or we walk around the block while he tries to explore everyone's front porch (he has a thing for stairs) and I desperately try to pull him away from walking up to strangers' houses. The point being that I have way too much time to think about how insipid motherhood can be.
Before Emerson was born, I imagined by this point in his development I would be delighting in the new things he would be learning every day and I would enjoy taking him on excursions to festivals, museums, parades, etc. I would be teaching him sign language and French, showing him to great works of art, and promoting his budding music skills. Instead, I spend my days begging him to walk and talk on his own. Just a single word - doggie, baba, shit for all I care - just any word!! He could care less about the events we take him to, which I'm sure has a lot to do with vision, but I keep hoping at least the colors and sounds and movement will interest him. He'd rather practice walking.
During pregnancy, even hearing the phrase "developmental delays" sent a shiver down my spine, so having it come true has been.....well, in ministry we call it "exploring our learning edges." In life I call it just plain crappy. I have been thinking a lot lately about why this problem bothers me so much - much more than the average person. The psychoanalyst part of me thinks it must be related to my type-A personality and growing up in a state who's mascot is a hive of busy bees. We Utahns still haven't gotten over our Mormon pioneer ethic of achievement and working until you drop (or until the Second-Coming, whichever comes first).
There is another part of it besides my impatient personality, though. A lot of other parents whose children did things early or on-time keep feeding us the same line: Don't worry, he'll be walking/talking before you know it, then you'll look back and wonder why you ever wanted him to do it!
Don't get me wrong - I miss those days when we could stick him on a blanket and he would be happy and stationary just as much as anyone. But I think people don't realize that even though his other areas of development are behind, his cognitive development is not. This means that when he turned 6 or so months old, he had the same drive and frustration about moving independently as his same-age friends. The difference is that his friends mastered crawling within a couple months, while it took him 6 months. The same goes for walking and talking - he's frustrated, we are frustrated, and this has been going on for another 6 months with no immediate end in sight.
Trust me, I have never wanted to go back to his pre-crawling days, and I promise you I will feel the same way when he masters the other major skills!
The positive
Ok, enough venting. Although Emerson's progress is not what we hoped, we do try to take comfort in some of the things he has picked up over the past few months. Such as:
- Dancing (this milestone was slow in coming too, but now that he's caught on, he dances to EVERYTHING. His favorite is turning on the clock radio by our bed first thing in the morning and rocking out to 80s-90s music).
- Pretending (with a little pushing, he will now pretend to feed a doll, brush our hair, "share" his crackers with me, etc. Not engaging in pretend play is an autism red flag, so his development in this area has been reassuring).
- Some sign language.
- Fake coughing (he picked this one up out of nowhere. He even covers his mouth ever so politely!)
- Throwing a ball...and anything else he can get airborne (unfortunately he also learned that he can throw objects at the dog's face to get her to leave him alone. We're going to have to work on curbing that one.)
- Climbing on all the furniture (the kid won't stand, but he'll dive head first off a chair!)
- And finally, eating everything in sight.
So we are enjoying these new things and mostly enjoying his very funny, unique personality that shines through more every day. We are going to Utah in another week and grandma and grandpa always get him to do new things, so I'm looking forward to that too.
As frustrated as I get most days, I am doing my best to keep perspective on what's ultimately important: having healthy and happy children. A friend's recent blog post about her nightmare experience in the hospital with an incredibly sick toddler and a dream I had about losing this second baby have reminded me of just how precious life really is.....even if things aren't turning out exactly as you expect them to.
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