Why?

A little known fact about me is that when I was little (maybe 4 years old or so), I dreaded waking up and having to get dressed every day. I hated getting dressed. Socks were the worst. You see, I hated the way clothes felt on me. I can't even explain the feeling, really, but I just couldn't stand it and most clothes had to be removed immediately. There wasn't 1 pair of socks that felt right; the seams always caused me problems. These issues led to hours of me screaming and crying because I just couldn't bear that feeling of those clothes on my body. And my mother was not much help. She thought I was just being difficult. She even decided that because I was being so "difficult", she would take me to a child psychologist, who told her that blue eyed, blond haired, fair skinned girls were simply over sensitive. That was the end of the search for what was wrong with me. I lived the next 25 years of my life with these issues, although they aren't as bad now.

Well, the other night I was doing some research on a particular disorder because some of the symptoms seemed to show up in my 4-year-old son. As I was reading, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Right there in front of me, I saw my exact childhood (and some now) symptoms. The disorder is called sensory integration disorder and it has to do with the brain either over-processing or under-processing stimuli to the senses. This can affect one or more of the senses and can be very stressful for the child. The treatment is occupational therapy, which sounds pretty easy compared to what some kids have and go through. Apparently, the kind I had (have) affects my sense of touch and my brain must be over-processing it because I really don't like things to touch me. I was stunned. I actually began to cry, thinking, "Surely this disorder was around when I was a kid. Why didn't anyone know?" I really wanted a straight answer, but I know that, even if I was speaking to her, I would get the same answer I always got from my mother: "I did the best I could. You were a monster and no one knew what to do with you. I had 2 other kids to deal with." Sweet mom, huh? Thanks, Kathie. I'm so mad right now. I can't believe I could have been treated for this and maybe had some of my childhood back (although for other reasons, some of my childhood was lost for good). I might be able to hug my husband and not cringe (because I hate to be touched). I might be able to buy any pair of socks I like without having to first inspect them to make sure they're going to feel OK. I know these are minor inconveniences in the grand scheme of things, but I can't help feeling gypped. Why did my older brother get his affliction treated when his knees started hurting? He was seen my many specialists who finally diagnosed him with RA. Why did my younger brother get his affliction treated when he started going, for lack of a better word, crazy? They took him all over to get a diagnosis of ADHD. Why did my mother settle for the first, idiotic I might add, idea from some obvious quack when it was me who needed help? God I needed help. Inside I was screaming for help. But no one wanted to listen. Why was I treated like my "pain" didn't matter?

These questions will probably go unanswered as long as I live. I suppose, though, there is some good that came from this experience. I will now always question anything with my kids that's not "normal". I will always listen when my kids tell me something just isn't right. I will always err on the side of caution when it comes to their physical, emotional, or mental health. I will never let my kids suffer the way I had to suffer.

The kids had some fun today. We took them to an Easter Egg hunt at the church where our 4-year-old goes to preschool. They told us that there were enough eggs for each kid to get 20, so if your kid got 20, they were to stop. Pretty simple rules, I thought. I knew we didn't have anything to worry about because I figured Charlie would try to give some eggs to other kids just to be nice. So we started with our 20-month-old, who was in the 2-3 year old group. She didn't really get the idea and just wanted to play with the toys. We had Charlie "help" her, which was really just him going and getting the eggs. But no one seemed to mind and she only got about 10 in the end, so plenty for the others. So then we went with the 4-5 year old group. There was this overweight little kid in there with probably more than 20 before they had even started. So the kids started and he is just running all over the place getting all the eggs. He must have had 40 in his basket by the end. Some kids only had a few; Charlie ended up with about 10. I kept looking for this kid's parent and couldn't see anyone who looked like he belonged to them. I thought it was a little rude of a parent to allow her kid to get double the amount they clearly stated in the beginning. These are just little kids and they don't understand why some bigger kid gets more. Luckily, none of the kids in the room seemed to care about his full basket (which he kept showing everyone bragging about how many he got). So it made total sense to me that there was no parent around. I knew Charlie could be in there without us, but we wanted to see him having fun. I guess this kid's parent didn't care, which explains the kid's attitude.

Maybe I'm being too sensitive about it, but I cannot stand parents who really don't want to BE parents. I don't understand why some people even have kids. It is painfully obvious that some parents don't even like their kids or want to spend any more time than is absolutely necessary. I'm not saying I'm a perfect parent, but I'm baffled at how some parents act around their kids. I know someone who says she loves her kids, but doesn't discipline them or make any time for them. She certainly takes time for herself though. I feel bad for those kids. They don't deserve to live life like that. But that's what this girl chose. She chose to have 3 kids that she doesn't want anymore and they are suffering for it. So sad...

Always do your best and wear your underwear!

This advice was given to me by my 4-year-old just last week. I was having a particularly trying day. I fly solo on weeknights because my husband works, so while I was cleaning up from a very messy dinner, I was simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the kids who were supposed to be playing "nicely" in the playroom. My son runs into the kitchen and sees me trying to be supermom and offers the advice, "always do your best, mom, and wear your underwear!" As funny as it sounds, that was exactly what I needed at that very moment. How did he know that this advice would have helped me through the night and, in turn, help him have a better night? He has what I call a sixth sense about things like that. He always seems to know when I need a laugh. And he can always deliver. Like the other day, when he felt an overwhelming need to tell us how his you know what was like a cement mixer. This caught us off guard, but he was totally serious. When we finally realized that he was not really even trying to be funny, we had to compose ourselves and engage him in the 10 minute conversation that followed on the subject.

Blood, poop, and no sleep...the fun side of being a mom (and dad)

This whole week has been a test of wills.   We still cannot get our 18 month old to sleep through the night.  Ever since the night we finally took that pacifier away (only took 3 attempts at taking it away for us (i.e. me) to stick with it) the girl just cannot sleep an entire night.  She gets up at least once, but normally like 3 or 4 times a night, just crying.  We try to let her go to let her get herself back to sleep, but after about 10 minutes, we just want to sleep ourselves, so one of us caves and goes to rock her back to sleep.  I'm not sure when we will ever sleep an entire night again!   And tonight is a little worse than normal because she got a bad cut on her finger.  I was not home at the time, but my husband said it just wouldn't stop bleeding.  And have you ever tried to keep a band aid on the finger of a 1 1/2 year old?  It's not an easy task.  Add to that the fact that the girl thinks everything is for eating, and you have a pretty messy situation on your hands.  So I spent my Sunday evening getting blood stains out of clothes, carpet, and walls.  What fun!  (For those of you who know me, you know that I'm actually serious).

I feel bad for the baby.  Before the finger "incident", she spent 2 days trying to poop.  Turns out, her digestive system needs a bit more fiber than the normal kid.  We forget sometimes because our 4-year-old's system is just fine.  He can pretty much eat anything in moderation and still be fine.  But that baby has the toughest time.  And because we forget, sometimes she gets things like bananas, which wreak havoc on her.  It's painful to watch her for 2 days trying to go.  And then she gets bad gas at night (on top of her normal sleeping problems) which wake her out of a dead sleep.  Good thing they make gas drops for that!  

I suppose these are the things we will look back on someday with a smile and remember as funny.  We still laugh when we remember the time my husband gave our son a full 8-oz sippy cup of straight apple juice.  Now, he knows what that would do to his system, so I am still perplexed at why he thought a 1 year old could handle that, but I digress.  There are no words to describe the picture we saw when we opened his door after his nap.  It was like a huge chocolate syrup bottle just exploded in his crib.  Only, of course, it wasn't chocolate.  It was the real deal.  And we hesitated for a moment trying to decide what to do first.  We finally got the baby and the room cleaned up after a few hours and many curse words.  We were certainly not laughing at the time (well maybe a little), but we definitely look back and laugh about it now.  At least we learned a valuable lesson that day.

Life is funny.  I always think of us like we're in a sitcom.  When things like that happen, I hear the laugh track in my head.  And I know exactly when the commercials would be, too.  Does anyone else do that?  Maybe I'm just weird...well, I'm definitely weird, but maybe I'm the only one who does this.  

Anyway, it's off to bed for me.  I need to get a few minutes of shut eye before the baby wakes us up.

Small girl, big city

So, today I took my very first train ride AND went to center city Philadelphia for the very first time as well. What an experience. The regulars must have known I was a completely frightened tourist. Every time I got on a train, they asked for my ID. They didn't do that for the others I was traveling with. Just me. Of course, I do look like a person likely to be hiding something (and if you know me at all, you know this couldn't be farther from the truth)! I am the world's worst liar. I had a hard time this past Christmas explaining Santa to my 4-year-old. I could sense he wasn't buying the whole story. But when my husband explained it, he was satisfied. Even children see right through me...I'm just that transparent and naive. So, the big city of Philadelphia was actually pretty cool. I lived in the suburbs of Philly for 2 years when Doug and I were first married and I never once went into the city. I generally don't like to go to places where there are large crowds of people. This makes me very nervous. But I see this year as a year to overcome my fears (ahem...I mean some of my fears. I definitely will NOT be boarding any roller coasters this year, or even before I die). I felt so small in that big city. Of course, I am about the size of a 12-year-old, but I normally don't feel that small. Everything was just so big. The buildings, the people, the crazy drivers... And they could so tell I was a tourist. I even got stuck in one of those revolving glass doors. My bag got jammed and the whole thing stopped. I felt like I was in the middle of one of those VISA commercials where everyone is swiping their cards and the whole process just goes so smoothly until that 1 idiot pulls out his checkbook. That was me today. The idiot. I didn't mind. I'm used to feeling like that. I do stupid things like that all the time. It's just me...

The fun part about today was that I got to come home a little early. Of course, in order to do that, I was up at 4 in order to catch the 6:30 train to Philly. So I got to play with my kids a little bit and get some of our Disney plans in place. All in all, it was a very productive and exciting day. It was also a learning experience, as I find most days lately are. I learned that you really can't fit 2 people into 1 section of a revolving door. I also learned that a little extra QT with your kids can do your soul some good.