Blah Blah Babycakes

Tuesdays at Children's Hospital

On the way to Henry's last occupational therapy appointment I stopped at the florist to pick up an orchid.  I'd agonized for weeks about how to thank R, the OT who single-handedly kept me from buying a one-way ticket to a foreign land during the dark days.  The days when getting Henry out of the house in the morning always ended in tears (both me and Henry) and the days when I cursed the drunken night I decided I wanted to have a baby. Now it was our last day.  Henry was graduating with honors and we had to say goodbye to her.

I looked forward to Tuesdays with R, because when she wasn't sharing my joy with Henry's successes she was talking me off the ledge.  It wasn't just an OT session for Henry, it was therapy for me too. And when she'd let her guard down and share a personal story I felt like she liked me.  Like she really cared.

She's the only person on the planet who felt as happy as I did when Henry stopped gagging at the site of deli meat and when he finally drew a circle instead of scribbling.  Her wisdom, guidance and support made it possible for me to be a good mom to Henry.  I settled on the beautiful plant, because it lasts a very long time, but not forever.  Exactly how I wanted her to remember us.

Sometimes when I say goodbye to people I bite the inside of my mouth really hard so I won't start crying.  As we walked to the elevator to go home she yelled after us, "I'll miss you terribly". I bit down harder and didn't say a thing.

Brain Freeze Update

Wow, it's really cold out.  It's been said that Minnesotans are obsessed with the weather and love to talk about it, but it really is worth mentioning.  My front door is frozen shut.  I can't even go anywhere. It's ridiculously cold.

Nick was in New York this week and Henry and I have been at home counting calories and watching Duck Tales.  We did make it to Occupational Therapy earlier in the week and R, Henry's OT, and my own personal confidence booster, gave me some more great tips to help Henry cope with changes, strangers breathing anywhere near him and, god forbid, someone pushing the elevator button before him. She also gave me another parenting book.  I thought I'd read them all, but no... someone wrote another one.

Henry on a square OT swing

We've decided to put food therapy on hold, because it's really not going anywhere.  Henry still only eats waffles and chicken nuggets.  For now I just try to remember that it's my job to provide a nutritious and balanced meal; It's Henry's job to eat it.  R told me that she works with one child who only eats Little Debbie snacks, so I feel like we're not so bad off.  (This rationale can help you a lot in life, Ive found.  Someone is always just a little more fucked than you are, so chin up!)

Instead we'll focus on postural control, fine motor skills, sitting still and various motor processing issues.  All of this to help Henry be less of a brat.  And it's working!  Combined with a butt load of patience and understanding, on my part, we've had a couple of really good weeks with very few tantrums.  The real test will be our upcoming trip to Cabo.  Things didn't go so well last time, but we'll all be better prepared for family vacation part two.

Typhoid Mary

It was 8 degrees in Minneapolis the morning I left for Puerto Vallarta.  Henry and Nick had left the day before, leaving me behind as I was curled up on the bathroom floor with a stomach bug so nasty you could catch it just by whispering Norovirus. (Just ask any of the 14 people I infected!) Say it three times while looking in a mirror.  I dare you.

I still felt a bit dodgy on the airplane, but once I landed in beautiful Mexico it all melted away. It's amazing what a little sunshine will do for your body and soul.

Henry and Andrea in the sun

Henry had a hard time on our trip.  He screamed, whined and yelled more than he laughed and smiled.  He was petrified of the ocean and didn't want anything to do with anyone, but me.  He would only eat frozen pancakes and tortilla chips. He yelled that he wanted to go home, except for the last day when he yelled that he wanted to stay.  I even overheard our chef on the phone talking to someone about the "problemo niño" that was staying in the house.

We had an occupational therapy appointment this morning and through tears I confessed what an awful child Henry was on our vacation and how I was afraid to ever go anywhere with him again. Henry's therapist in her patient, calm manner, told me that she wasn't at all surprised.  Henry has been out of his element and routine for several weeks and it's no wonder that he regressed into being an impossible toddler. Change is especially hard for Henry and he couldn't possibly anticipate all that he experienced and so he freaked out. Even if it was all a bunch of lies, she made me feel so much better and I left feeling less like a total failure then when I walked in.

And also, the ocean is big and scary.

Now we are home and things are getting back to normal. Henry is no longer acting like a problemo niño and I am ready to take on 2008.  Happy New Year!!

Just Eat It

Henry has several months of food therapy behind him and I think that we are finally seeing some improvements.  He never gags during meal time, save for the occasional lunch meat revulsion and he usually wants whatever you're eating on his plate too.  Of course he doesn't usually eat it, but the fact that it's there and not on the floor is a wonderful thing. 

We encourage lots of different sauces, but ketchup is the favorite.  We also encourage squeezing, smashing and licking foods that are new.  Table manners take a back seat in this game. 

Food issues are commonplace and everyone knows someone who doesn't eat mushrooms or hates olives. Some people can't have any of the food on their plate touching.  I have a friend who won't eat anything served cold and another that prefers everything fried. Even I have my issues and need to remove all, but one tomato slice from a sandwich.

I'm sure Henry will grow to enjoy all the gastronomical delights the world has to offer, but for now I'd just like him to eat his veggies.

Eggs and Rice Krispies a la Sauce Americain.

   

Moo?

For Henry's food therapy I was asked to keep a log of everything he ate for a week.  In doing so, I realized that the kid drank a lot of milk.  So much milk that I'm embarrassed to tell you exactly how many ounces he was taking down.(Don't ask. It was waaaay too much)  It had crossed my mind a few times that he seemed addicted to it, but I went right on feeding his habit.  Everyone gets one drug of choice, right?

On a hunch, I did some google-searching and sure enough read some interesting theories linking cow's milk to a whole myriad of things, including: glue ear, behavior problems, sleep disorders and language delays. 

Jumping the gun, as I'm wont to do, I took Henry off cow's milk immediately.  Cold turkey. I felt like I had nothing to lose. This was last Thursday.

Every night since last Thursday Henry has slept through the night. Do you hear those angels singing hallelujah? No?  They must be in my head.  Anyway.  No night terrors.  No crying in his sleep.  Nothing.  Now, even I'm not yet ready to declare that it was, without a doubt, a milk sensitivity causing him so many problems, but you have to wonder.  I know Mercury is still in retrograde, so it could be that too.

The point is that we all got some sleep and also, that cow's milk is the devil.

Diagnosis Du Jour

It's amazing how empowering knowledge can be.  After the initial feelings of "why my child?" and the few days of feeling extremely sorry myself and for Henry, I feel more energetic and patient with him than I ever have.

Having this diagnosis has given me the push to bring Henry to a pediatric sleep clinic to finally get some help for his sleep issues.  I've sort of admitted that Henry has been sleeping in my bed since last November, but I don't think I've told you that five out of seven nights he has some type of night terror, wakes up every half hour and cries in his sleep. I pretended for too long that Supernanny tactics would do the trick, but now I feel like I can take advantage of any and all available resources to help make our lives better.  I feel like I no longer have to deal with these issues on my own.

Thank you for all of your encouraging comments and emails.  I love hearing your own personal stories.  For anyone that understands a little about SPD, Henry is considered sensory seeking.  He is hypo-sensitive and looks for stimulation.  He seeks input about where his body is.  This is why he pushes and hits. It's why he likes sparkling water. The bubbles feel fantastic in his mouth, not because he's a fancy New Yorker.

I do need to make a conscious effort not to let this become my excuse for all of Henry's bad behavior.  He's still a two year old with likes and dislikes.  Still a little boy who doesn't appreciate sharing and doesn't always want to take a nap.  A fine line, it is.  In fact, some believe that SPD is just an excuse for lazy parenting and really, who among us doesn't have a few quirks?   Even if I was certain that Henry would outgrow this condition (or maybe just learn to cope with or hide it), I still want him to feel good now. To fit in now.  Oh yes, it would be nice to get some sleep, as well.

A Sensitive Subject

The therapist set a piece of deli meat in front of Henry and explained to him that it was turkey and that he could taste it if he wanted to.  Henry looked down at it and gagged several times.  With tears in his eyes, he asked if we could go home. With tears in my eyes, I told him,"no".

Henry has been diagnosed with Sensory Processing Disorder. 

What that means exactly is hard to say. It's as individual as each child.  Henry's food aversions are pretty severe and I kind of knew that, but now I'm hearing all sorts of phrases such as: Low muscle tone, poor motor planning, attention deficit. It's a big, confusing diagnosis, that I can hardly make sense of and a little bit, it breaks my heart.  The good news is that it helps explain the hitting, the sleep problems and the chicken nuggets.

Henry is still the same cute, little boy, but now that we understand what his special needs are, we can help him to be more functional,in this big, bad world.