Gobble gobble

A happy Thanksgiving to all that are directly and indirectly a part of my life. Each year I am increasingly thankful for what we have and for those that offer such amazing support and love. And now a story about the turkeys that tried to ruin Thanksgiving...

We live in an area that wild turkey roam. We joke each year about making one a part of our feast. These groups can be as large as 25 hens with their toms and juniors in full strut twice daily making their way across our yard. It's quite a scene. Sometimes they get startled or thrown off track and flown into a panic, clumsily flapping into the nearest tree, rooftop, or fence. At 9:30 am, as I was just about to pop our 23 pound turkey into the oven, the power went out. For over an hour, we had the turkey on standby in the BBQ, crossing our fingers that our alternative cooking solution wouldn't last the entire process. Just after 10:30, I breathed a sigh of relief that our power returned. At 2:00, as family and friends started to arrive, one of our friends noted a huge gaggle of turkeys making their way up the road. "They got spooked and a few flew right into the power lines!" He exclaimed. Rick responds with, "we'll they aren't the smartest creatures." Fast forward to today when on the phone with my girlfriend that lives a few miles away, also hosting Thanksgiving that day. "Did your power go out?" I inquired. "Yes. And boy do I have a funny story about that..." She proceeds to tell me that as her husband was returning from getting their turkey, he witnessed a separate flock fly into some power lines, sparks flying. A few seconds later, no power. So he calls the electric company and proceeds to tell him he knows the location on the power failure and why, explaining that it's is really not a prank call. So I wonder, are those creatures really as dumb as we think? Maybe they had a plan on this day.

By the way, our turkey actually came out quite perfect, despite the initial change of course! Thankfully.

Transitional three

I am sitting outside of Ava's new class, trying to focus on something other than the sound of her intermittent crying bridged by whimpering. She started a new program, basically structured as a preschool with focus on speech and occupational therapy. This program doesn't allow parents to participate, which makes for a very unhappy girl. She tries to hold it together, likes the idea of going to school, but as we enter the double doors, she immediately starts to fall apart. I try to hold it together, say all the right things, but once she goes into class and the door shuts, I am exhausted. If she is like I was (she is) this could go on for awhile. We both want her old school structure back, but life is one transition to the next and that is that.

We are transitioning to 3. Even though it was Ava's birthday 2 weeks ago, she still tells you she is two and a half. I still feel like she is two and a half. I wonder if I will ever adjust to the fact that she really was born in October. Couldn't we pretend she wasn't a micro premie, that she was born in January? Couldn't we save October for sorrow and loss? I suppose one day, one year it will start to feel right. Will it? 

We had our traditional balloon remembrance on the girls birthday. We added one more this year because my grandpa Jack passed away that very day. 

What is also becoming a tradition is that Ava tends to get a severe cold around her birthday, and plans were again put in a holding pattern for her birthday celebration. Too many coincidences to not take notice. But we had a nice small celebration for Ava, more her style anyway. She's not a big fan of being around a lot of people, loud music, a lot of distractions. And that's OK, because it just doesn't seem fitting anyway. 

Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance

I thought I would share a few inspirational quotes that I often refer back to again and again:

“And once the storm is over, you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm, you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

― Haruki Murakami

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“You’ll get over it…” It’s the clichés that cause the trouble. To lose someone you love is to alter your life for ever. You don’t get over it because ‘it” is the person you loved. The pain stops, there are new people, but the gap never closes. How could it? The particularness of someone who mattered enough to grieve over is not made anodyne by death. This hole in my heart is in the shape of you and no-one else can fit it. Why would I want them to?”

― Jeanette Winterson


Can you believe that 1:4 women suffer a miscarriage, stillbirth or infant loss? Today is October 15, a day to remember those that have lost hopes never to be fulfilled and dreams never to come true. I am taking part in a memorial tonight, where I plan on sharing some of my perspective, and to light a candle for our angels.

The men in my life

The other day I watched in fear as Rick let first Ava and then Sophia drive in his tractor with him. He let each one have a turn pushing buttons, raise and lower the attachments, back up and turn in circles. He drove with one down from the trailer and the other back onto the trailer. The mom in me cringed at all that could go wrong, but the little girl in me was so proud that their father was doing some cool things that will undoubtedly be imprinted in their minds forever. There are many of these moments I have been able to watch from a distance, biting my tongue or sneaking around the corner out of sight so that the girls will have these special memories of when they did something cool with daddy.
Rick and I have traded stories in the past of when he worked side by side with his dad every day, when he got up before dawn to go hunting or early mass and then breakfast with his dad. My memories were not with my father though, they were with my grandpa Jack. There are fathers and there are father figures, and while I was lucky to have my father in my life growing up, there are many things I have yet to make amends with. My father passed away almost 15 years ago, and we had a difficult relationship. My grandpa Jack, on the other hand, was easy to be around. I was happy just being in his presence when I was little. He took the time to teach me how to play Backgammon, he would let me take the wheel on his old Ford truck, and play on his CB in his RV on camping trips. He taught me how to drive a boat, the process of making honey, and where to find the best biscuits and gravy. He loaned me money to buy my first car, and rescued me when I got lost driving to his house on my own for the first time.(I am seriously hazardous when it come to directions.) While my grandma was working, we would walk to visit his neighbors, get butter brickle ice cream, tinker in his wood shop, and make dinner. He was a flirt with the ladies, a dirty old man, and he tells the tallest tales you have ever heard. He was happiest touring around with his family and friends in his boat or RV. He loved going on fishing trips with the boys, camping by the water, and making huge breakfasts with fried eggs and bacon, and lots of butter on his toast. He's a strong headed, stubborn German. He was a man's man and it is ironic that with all his testosterone they would have 3 daughters. We joke about the Jack curse that all his grandchildren gave birth to girls, no great-grandsons (yet) because of his machismo.
My grandpa is ready to end this chapter of his life and be with my grandma in heaven. I don't think she's ready to put up with him yet, because he's still with us withering away in a waste of a body. It's heartbreaking and frustrating to watch such a big burly man end up this way. But that is life and sometimes life just sucks, it doesn't make sense, and you just need to be thankful for the things you do have. I guess this is probably in bad taste to write something of a eulogy before my grandpa has died, but I want him to know how many imprints he has made on my life. How there are too many stories to tell. How when I made a bad decision, it was him I was afraid to disappoint. That my husband reminds me a lot of him, and that's not just a coincidence. I have been mourning the loss of my grandpa Jack from the moment I found out his health was failing him. I wish we lived as close as we did when I was growing up, but distance doesn't allow me to visit him as much as I would like to. He just celebrated his last birthday the other day. I really hope his wish comes true soon, because as hard as it will be to feel his absence, this is no life for him.

Funny things the girls are saying...

Remember the "Sophia says..." posts? Well there's a little competition for the spot now that Ava is coming up with her own funny things. Big relief there, for sure. And now on to the entertainment...

Sophia overheard someone (I won't reveal that someone) saying that so-and-so was a bullshitter. I immediately nudged that someone and told that person to watch their mouth in front of the girls. I can only imagine what the "school" would say if little Miss Sophia brings that phrase out during session. Sophia's reaction? "Ha!! That's funny! What a Bowl of Sugar!" And I laughed just as much in relief as in how brilliant that saying will be from now on. I can't wait to call someone a Bowl of Sugar.

It's not a secret that we watch a fair amount of TV in this family. I admit to having it on as background noise on many occasions. If you've seen the Old McDonald spelling contest commercial, you'll get what I'm talking about here. He can't spell a word without putting "eieio" at the end of his words, and walks off the stage saying "Dag numbit!" Ava thinks that's hysterical and now has adopted the phrase "Awww nuggets!" when she gets something wrong.

Sophia got reprimanded at school the other day for saying "Oh my gosh." See what I mean if she went there saying bull shitter? So we came up with a list of things she could say in place of that phrase. Ava piped in with "Oh coconuts" as her contribution. SpongeBob quotes were heavy hitters on the list with "Oh barnacles" and "Oh tarter sauce" being the most popular.

the little comedians

My love/hate relationship with autumn

The other night I could smell fall coming in. The cool crisp air with a hint of smoke and wet earth was welcoming and painful. I have always loved this time of year. This is usually the time we have the mildest weather and the warmest days. I love Halloween and Thanksgiving. I look forward to layering long sleeves on top of tank tops, trading in my flip flops for boots. So it's ironic that most of my miscarriages and the loss of Julia would also happen during this season. I've come to accept that I am going to be more pensive during this time of year. I have also increased my realization in the importance of counting my blessings and being thankful for what we do have.

Ava had her annual NICU reunion party at the hospital this last weekend. It was the first year that she was aware of the reason for the party. Sophia started the conversation the night before, and Ava wanted to know what she looked like when she was born. Rick asked me to get some pictures to show her. Seemed like a simple enough request, but the weight of it all hit me hard. Which pictures do I show her? Why hadn't I made her a book like I had when Sophia was born? Why, almost three years later, can't I figure out the right things to do or say? Sophia followed me into our bedroom where I still have Ava and Julia's birth pictures in a memory box on top of my dresser. I quickly plucked out a few for them to look at, while trying to suppress the other feelings brewing up over Julia. We looked at Ava's pictures as a family, Rick explaining all the tubes and lines and wires that encircled Ava in the pictures. We tried to explain why Ava had to stay so long, and how tiny she was when she was born. We tried to explain the difference in her birth and Sophia's birth. And at that point I realized that this process was going to always be evolving. The story will be crafted according to how old the kids are and what they can process. One day I will have those answers I am looking for and it will just come to me instead of struggling for the words.

So long, summer...

Remember me? It's been so long since I've posted here that I had a hard time figuring out how to post! Our summer ended up being incredibly eventful. I bet we made up for the years past tenfold. One big thing I learned this summer: I still love camping, in any capacity; Rick decided he will never tent camp again. I am campaigning for an RV around here. We are miles away from what constitutes a reasonable RV expectation. Think of Rick's idea as "home away from home" and mine as "we are still roughing it" and you have the perfect checkmate. Honestly, even talking bout a luxury item such as an RV is a good indication that things are looking up for us.
But now that summer is over, we may have to shelve the RV debate and move onto meatier matters such as the many commitments our daughter's school has managed to cram into one school year. My head is spinning with all the changes around Sophia starting Kindergarten. Kindergarten of today is so different from Kindergarten of my day. I would not be the least bit shocked if I find a college application in her folder by mid-year, because the things these kids are expected to learn is no joke. Although, I am proud to say that I am confident Sophia will handle whatever they dish out. And with that said, I'll leave you with a first day of Kindergarten photo and promise not to be such a stranger.

4th of July Photos

We've been a bit busy this summer. I'm not complaining. Lots of stuff in the works, but for now here's a little recap of our 4th of July vacation.

The waiting room

Using a TB test as an excuse to catch up on my much needed general health screen that has been long overdue, I made an appointment with a doctor. I have seen my OB plenty in the past 8 years, but although she has been thorough, she doesn't handle all that other stuff, like cholesterol and, well the TB test I need to have on file in order to volunteer in Sophia's Kindergarten class come Fall. 15 minutes into my wait, the receptionist announced the doctor would be at least 30 minutes behind schedule. So I decided to do some serious work on my level status at Candy Crush Saga, a game that Sophia currently can beat me at. In walks an older gentleman and two teenagers. Really rude, disrespectful teenagers who apparently just wanted attention. After learning way too much information in such little time-- all about his pulling a knife on someone, being flashed by a male family member, her rattling off obscenities to what I learned was her half brother, and then them getting into a kicking fight right next to me, I decided that was the end of me pretending they didn't exist in my world of Candy Crush. I calmly set down my game, and just looked up. They immediately stopped, mid kick, and stared right back. Not having anything to say really, I just stared. What would I say? They aren't my kids, the receptionist clearly wasn't upset by their behavior in her office. So I just made eye contact, back and forth. Until they both eventually looked away. And then I picked up where I left off, in silence. The receptionist called my name a minute later, and I gathered my things and walked into the appointed room.
I'm not sure how to connect the dots to our current societal struggles with all these young adults doing seriously bad things. I'd imagine these kids in the waiting room aren't one of those kids in the media, that they were probably just wanting attention. I like to use imaginary bubble wrap to protect myself from bad things. I'd like to think I do a pretty good job at it while my kids are with me, try to pick places to go that shield them from harm. Isn't that what a parent does? But what happens when my invisible bubble wrap no longer reaches where they eventually go? When they aren't in my bubble wrap world, or when they are faced with kids that may not have grown up with imaginary bubble wrap?
I remember before having kids that some parents are so naive, so gullible to the world their kids live in. I made a vow that I would never be this type of parent, but as the years slip by and I wrap another layer of protection around myself and family, I see that I am becoming naive, too. And it scares me. I try to stay out of current events in my writings. There are a lot of opinions, a lot of hurt, a lot of bad things that happen in the news that I just can't comprehend, don't want to process. I have a hard enough time trying to figure out how to help the children we have become responsible, respectful, caring individuals that will impact our society in a positive way. Maybe that sounds all Pollyanna of me and, yes, naive. Maybe it makes me sound a little sheltered from reality, but that's what having babies really has made me. It's made me bubble wrapped. It's made me cry at the awful news of violence and shut off the TV. It's made me wonder how we are going to figure out how to keep our children safe as they grow up.

Summer, summer, summer time

Sophia graduated from pre-K. I told myself it was no big deal, nothing to get emotional about. But then the last week of her school just kind of hit me. I kept saying, "this is the last time you are going to ______" for just about anything I could fill in the blank with. The thing is, Sophia really doesn't get it. She doesn't understand she won't see all her teachers in that capacity ever again, won't have the same class, playtime, snacks, art projects, short school day, funky outfit choices, giggles with her best friend. It all changes and she moves up to the big leagues. And with it, so do I. Both our responsibilities will increase, have more accountability for, well, for school things. We will have Monday through Friday, live for the weekends. We won't have quiet times at the Zoo where we share moments with a particular animal, just us. We won't run errands together and decide to stop for a treat at the coffee shop or smoothie store. And boy, don't get me started with how our life is going to change moving forward. I guess this sounds pretty selfish, but it's the realization that we now are growing up that gets me choked up.
On her last day of school, Sophia asked what "Summer" meant and I told her it meant she could get all messy, wear those temporary tattoos until they get all crackly and color faded. She could have face paint, make mud pies, or finger paint every day. She could walk around barefoot outside after her bath, or take her bath in the inflatable pool if she wanted to. She could go to sleep with campfire smoke in her hair and sand stuck between her toes. That's what Summer means. So we woke up bright and early on Saturday to Sophia asking first for face paint, followed by a tattoo and then for a finger paint project. The girl doesn't waste any time getting down to business.
On Sunday we came up with a list of at least 30 things off the top of our heads to do this Summer. I am already exhausted and a little overwhelmed just thinking about it. I don't let lists go unchecked. It's another flaw on the list of many flaws, er, character traits of mine. So on Monday, our official "First Day of Summer" we got working on our list. Despite our hugely ambitious list, Ava really doesn't have a Summer vacation. She still has her speech therapy and her school to attend, which I look at as a blessing for her to continue with routine. I've noticed that any hiccup in routine when she has an illness is a big step back for her, socially. I also think it will keep us balanced with routine days and lazy PJ days. Now if only both girls would understand one big defining thing about Summer is sleeping in.

Conversations with Ava

Oh how far we have come with this whole speech process! I can say with 100% confidence that I am not worried about Ava catching up with her speech eventually. I still catch myself comparing her to kids her age at the playground, or telling a parent her adjusted age instead of her birth age when we come across Ava's peers. I guess I'm still self conscious for her, even though it is completely silly. She loves her classes at her school, and now even participates willingly. She even let me go to the bathroom by myself while she played with her classmates. Needless to say, she has come a long long way from where we were 6 months ago.

The other night, after a long weekend of being away mostly from the kids, we unwound in front of the TV with a movie of Sophia's choice. Ava sits back next to me, her legs crossed at her ankles. She turns to me and says, "Mommy, popcorn?" (Sounded more like "Mommy, pahphorn?") and I tell her, "No Ava, it's too late for popcorn." She furls her brow and says, "Hmmph. Noni, popcorn. Noni nice." And right there I burst into laughter and tears because not only did I have my first real unprompted conversation with her, she was totally trying to play me against her grandma!

What Ava doesn't communicate with words, boy does she express herself.

My 5 year old

My dear Sophia, when did you get to be such a big girl? You are smarter than your age. You amaze me with all that strategizing going on in your brain. Always thinking, always finding an angle. It's both awesome and frustrating. Try being on the other end of your thought process, sometimes you are one step ahead of me and I fall into your trap. There I am dishing out ice cream before I even knew how I got there.

I see you at 5, and wonder how I am going to keep up with you in the years to come. When you set your mind to do something, it will be done. And even though you are not limber, oh man, you are not limber--you are a natural at all the sports you try. I guess you got both traits from your dad.

I love your enthusiasm about trying new things. Fearless. There is no doubt in your mind about your ability to conquer what you set out to do. How do you know how to do that? You saw it on TV or you had a dream you were doing it once, you say. I hope this mind of your own continues through that awful age of peer pressure. I hope your persistence isn't dampened by fears of doubt one day. You are so outgoing and extroverted, the life of the party! Grab the hand of a stranger and ask them to play or join you on some adventure. Always waving at a kid your age, looking for friends to make.

One day you want to put on your dress and sparkly shoes and have your nails painted. The next day you are in your muddy boots rescuing all the snails from the hot rays of sun, digging up earth worms and charming frogs into your welcoming hand. I love that you can be a girly girl and tom boy interchangeably.

You are daddy's girl, always wanting to be where he is and doing what he is doing. Working side by side when he is looking at engineering plans, while you map out the way it should look with your paper and colored pencils.

You know more than you let on, Sophia. We caught you the other day, when we were talking about going somewhere and you said, "Don't let A-v-a hear you!" How much more have you figured out to spell in our secret language? Although I do notice your legs getting longer and your chubby cheeks thinning out, you are still my baby girl. Enjoy being 5, sweetheart.

Ruminating

I wonder sometimes if it is possible to stop thinking. I have a hard time shutting down my brain. I constantly think, problem solve, or come up with new problems so I can solve those. I over analyze pretty much everything. Too much time in my head is unhealthy. When some thinking goes around and around, without clear results, I write it down somewhere, typically this blog. And I let those thoughts sit, outside of my head. A lot of times it releases some or all of the burden and with tricky problems, literally seeing it in black and white makes the solution seem just like that, black and white. I've been giving way too much thought about this last miscarriage. Not so much as to why it happened. Clearly we've been down that road, so unless there is new testing available, been there done that. But I've been thinking about how I feel. Why am I still so 50/50 about it all? Should it bother me more or less? That might give me some clue to growing our family. We have a big elephant hanging out in our house that we have yet to address. Do we try for another kid or close down shop? This is rhetorical, I am not asking the internet or putting up a poll for such a deeply personal question. And honestly, I don't want to hear the answer from anyone except Rick. And given some of our starts and the conversation, I think he's as confused about what to do next as I am.

I had to read my last post again, to see if things are any clearer now that they are in black and white, removed from my brain. Words I can look at and read as if it were someone else's story. And still I don't get any closer to sorting it out. Time is not on our side. We are way past our prime in baby making, so it's not smart to add old age to the equation of things that could complicate a pregnancy. I hope things will start to become clearer soon.

My unaccommodating uterus

Surprise! I was pregnant. Surprise! I had a miscarriage. Again. "Wait, huh?" you might be thinking. Well, we weren't really planning anything this time around. It kind of just happened, which was the super exciting, let's-not-get-our-hopes-up-but-oh-my-gosh-this-is-how-normal-people-get-pregnant, kind of feeling. And just as my pee was drying on the home pregnancy test (sorry, too much information?), I started to spot and spotting turned into full blown bleeding. And there you have it, add "chemical pregnancy" to my list of pregnancy failures.
That was the short of it. Now let me draw it out in the full winded fashion I am accustomed to writing. It all started on date night...just kidding, you aren't getting all the details. So fast forward to some random mid-cycle spotting a week after said date night. Mid-cycle spotting happens sometimes, but this was timed with what could be implantation, and also timed with what could have been ovulation. My (apparently inaccurate family planning app...yes there is an app for that, gotta love modern technology) predicted ovulation a few days prior to date night. No, I'm not in high school, and yes Rick and I have talked about adding to our family, but it's been mainly one-sided. Rick is Mr. Eager and I am, well, not so sure. But throwing caution to the wind in a whatever happens, happens kind of moment, I knew timing could work out for us. Clearly I was all Pollyanna in my happy go lucky (unlucky?) state, not even taking into consideration that these decisions should probably be made with a team of specialists, a conference room, and analysts. Seriously, can't a girl just get knocked up, have a wonderfully naive 9 months of the only drama being in what to name the baby, and then seamlessly there is now a new baby to add to the family? One could wish, if that person were not me. Or Rick. Poor guy, he consoled me with, "I guess you have my luck."
Anyway, after some spotting I kind of forgot about the possibility of being pregnant. Until weird dreams, flaming boobs, and random appetite kicked in pretty quickly. And then I knew I was pregnant before I even took a test. So I waited to take a test. Partly because my superstition told me that if I confirmed it, bad things would happen. Partly because I was scared that we might really be pregnant. And partly because I wanted to chill out and stay zen. If I were pregnant, cool. If not, oh well. That was actually the dominating part--stay zen. But then that night we were going to my in-laws for dinner in which my sister in-law hinted that she got some fabulous wine. Being that her and I are the only wine drinkers in the family, I figured I better pull down my big girl panties and buck up. As much as I wanted to stay zen, I will not drink with the possibility of a growing little embryo with piss poor odds as it is. And that's when I got the double line glaring at me with absolute certainty that I was pregnant. Yes, I have pregnancy tests in stock. Is that weird?
So I walked (or floated, in zombie like state) to Rick with pregnancy test in hand and told him. I then I had the craziest rush of emotions. I was laughing, crying, blubbering one minute, then staring out the window in catatonic state the next. It would have been pretty awesome to have a time lapse video of it all. And Rick was confused. Not by my emotions, I think he was probably a bit scared of that. He was confused by the events and how it all went down. I get it, there were no ovulation predictor kits, no "I'm ovulating, let's go" and no lengthy discussions on trying to conceive. But what I don't understand is how men just don't get how conception takes place. Dude, this has happened, what, 9 times now? Then I started calling it the Miraculous Conception, because it all happened just so easy. And we mused that maybe this is a sign that it could be easy. But we quickly realized this is us, it is never easy.
I was spotting a little that day, but that's been pretty common with my history. And then the next day I knew it was doomed for us. Now it's really time for us to figure out what our next steps are. It probably seems a bit crazy that we are having this scenario play out. I am still on the fence about adding to our family. I don't want to jeopardize anything with the girls we have, and who knows what a pregnancy really will hold for us. On the other hand, I really got used to the idea of raising 3 kids when we were pulling for Julia to make it. So instead of a baby this time, we will need to do some serious soul searching to figure out what to do next.
By the way, if you know me "in real life" and are reading this, nobody really knows about this pregnancy, and I'm cool with that. It gets a little messy having to explain things. I know this is a public blog and all but mainly for Rick's sake let's keep this between me and you, OK?

Spring creatures

The last few days the weather has been perfect. We've been spending a lot of time outside. Sophia is very excited to welcome the creatures out from hiding.

Kindergarten confirmed

A decision has finally been made about Kindergarten. Amen. And apparently there will be a lot of "amen" in our future. :)

Speech progress report 1

My fashionista Ava, on her way to school

It's been a few months since Ava started her speech therapy and early intervention school session once a week. She got off to a slow start on her therapy appointments, barely acknowledging the SLP (speech language therapist) for the first month or so. Ava being so shy around strangers really doesn't help in these situations at all. After Ava started opening up a little, the SLP admitted that her early diagnosis wouldn't have been favorable, something about social mutism. Now that she can see what Ava really can do, the SLP has given me some good tips to use at home to encourage speech. It's really about training the care takers than it is about the 45 minute session once a week. I'm still on the fence about how helpful these sessions are, now that I kind of have the understanding on how to work with Ava. Because her motor skills and cognition are so great, it's hard to understand and frustrating as to why Ava isn't able to take off with speech. The great news is that although it may take her longer to catch up, it's almost guaranteed that she will be caught up by grade school age. And really, that's what is important in the long run. Now that I know what to look for, there are tons of iPad applications that make learning this stuff fun, and Ava is a mad genius with the iPad. She could spend hours building puzzles and words, playing matching and search games. It's pretty awesome stuff watching how fast she can manipulate the games.

The early intervention school class Ava attends once a week is amazing. This is to help Ava socialize around children her age, in addition to getting some extra speech therapy and occupational therapy. The student teacher ratio is really 1:1, which if you have ever been in an early childhood eduction setting, is spectacular. She loves it there. The room has all kinds of fun gym stuff, rotating art and texture stations, circle time, and snack. My jaw dropped when I had walked in the first time. And for some reason, Ava isn't nearly as shy in this setting. She had an immediate rapport with the teacher, who also does monthly home visits. The children that attend the class have a broad range of special needs, and although I just observe, I think Ava is probably borderline even meeting the criteria to be there at all, so I will take advantage of this special little gem we have until she graduates, which is usually at age 3.

Ava won't get an official progress report until she has been in the program for 6 months. I feel she has already improved by leaps and bounds. The question still remains for me whether she is improving simply by age or because of these services. If I'd have to guess, I'd say a little of both. And to be honest, as long as she is progressing, all is good with me!

Sophia says...

On the way to school, we pass fields of cows. One morning Sophia says, "I know the difference between girl cows and boy cows."

Oh you do? What's the difference, I ask.

Wait for it...

"Girl cows have long eyelashes."

And here I thought she would say udders.

The Kindergarten effect

Who knew selecting a school for Kindergarten would be equivalent to selecting a college? I do blame myself for making this tough decision even more challenging, but I am so disappointed that all public eduction is not equal. I started fretting about where Sophia would go to school back in November. Here we are in February and my blood pressure is high, my gray hairs are plenty, and we still haven't decided which school is best for her. Not that it is really our choice. Private schools review applications and have testing, our public school in our district has informed me that because it is such a popular school, Sophia is not guaranteed a spot, and the district we would love to transfer to basically treated me like a cockroach when I visited the school to see if we could expedite the process.
It's broken, people! The whole system is broken! I know, I can be a little dramatic. Rick thinks I'm being a lot dramatic. I may have developed a little crazy tic in my eye if we have to talk about the latest school delimnas, I admit it. I believe Sophia is smart enough, social enough, and well adjusted that she will do well anywhere she goes.
Yes, it's just Kindergarten. I switched schools in first grade and did just fine. Probably better than fine. My point is that I care about Sophia's education, her social interaction, her safety. And I want her surrounded by families that have those same concerns. I don't want to shelter her. Well, maybe a little bit. I want her to continue to be the same smart, social, well adjusted little girl that she is past Kindergarten. So it may be "just Kindergarten" but what happens next? By the way, I can't believe we're already registering her for Kindergarten. Where did the time go?!

How sweet is this?

Sophia says...

"Mommy I need to floss my teeth so I can get them sharp. Sharp teeth are good for hard candy."

Starting to speak

I've touched on Ava's lack of speech progression awhile ago. It's very difficult to have had an early talker (Sophia) and try not to compare her to her sister. Matter of fact, it's hard not to compare everything. And with these two girls, they are as opposite as opposite can be in almost everything.

When we had Ava's very first infant follow-up post NICU, the doctor had mentioned that I keep an eye on Ava's speech development. The same was mentioned when her home nurse did the exit interview upon graduation from her MVIP program once she was about 1 year adjusted age. I wanted to give Ava more time. Rick said to give her more time. I heard so many stories of so-and-so's kid who didn't talk until 3 years old and now won't shut up. So we waited. And then I freaked out one day because not only was Ava not progressing, I felt like she was regressing. I started making phone calls to her pediatrician, her follow-up clinic, the school district that the home nurse had left me the number of. I was in a panic, feeling that all this time waiting was doing Ava a huge disservice, and now it was my mission to get her help. I filled out paperwork, and waited. And waited. I was told that due to budget cuts, the intake evaluation process was 45 days. It was going to be a very long 45 days. During our wait, I tried to work with Ava. I turned into a drill sergeant, not something I am proud of. I signed her up for a class with a speech therapist to get some initial ideas on how to work with her during this waiting period, since the tools I was using seemed like it was pushing Ava farther away. The class was an eye opener. It was also priceless. With just basic instruction of how to change the way we talked to Ava, I saw immediate progress. This gave me hope that we could do something proactive while we waited for her assessment.

Why was I freaking out? I've read some statistics on speech that scared me. A speech delay is typically the underlying cause to a bigger delay. Don't quote me here, and I am not listing a source because I'm not going to go back to my research, but I read somewhere that 70% of children with speech delay have a primary reason for delay. It could be autism, it could be muscular, it could be something with the brain. Here we were 2 years past her stay in the NICU without any major complications, but yet what if this speech delay presented a much bigger potential problem?

45 long days later, I received a call from the program that would provide us with some answers. We set up a home visit with a case worker, a speech therapist, and an occupational therapist. We talked, they played with Ava, and they gave their initial assessment that Ava exceeded all areas of cognition. A huge relief. However, she was significantly delayed with her speech. They immediately got us in touch with a speech therapist to visit with once a week, and referred Ava to an early intervention program with the school district.

Right about the 3rd week of therapy, Ava had some major developments with her speech. She has also had change in attitude with less tantrums. Although she really hasn't made any breakthroughs in the class, it's taught us a different way to deal with Ava. We've also incorporated some sign language, which to our surprise, she picked up immediately. At this point, we still aren't sure why she has a speech delay. It could still be that her brain is working on other areas of development and that it is really nothing. It could be that she has some slight muscular issues with articulation, that combined with her stubborn personality and her strive with perfection, she won't use those words until she knows that she can say them. Whatever the reason, I am a lot more calm today. I know that these tools we are working on will only help Ava in the long run, and I am confident that she will catch up with her speech and I will be that person saying that her kid just won't shut up anymore.

Ham it up on the holidays

My mind is full of op-ed type rantings these days. I'll spare you the details, or the rants for that matter. It's been slow for business here, and we've really tried to trim the fat. My new year challenge is to continue to recycle, refresh what we have, to try to cut down even more on waste and excess. Ironically, one such budget cut ended up landing me an early Christmas present, an iPhone. Seems opposite of trimming the fat, right? I upgraded my plan to a smart phone, ended up with unlimited talk and text and cut our monthly phone cost by at least $30. Go figure. I'm now knee deep in reducing our health care expenses. And I'll stop there, before my twitchy fingers get ahead of me and turn this into a debate worthy discussion. So to keep this post light, armed with my new iPhone on Christmas morning, here are some highlights from our stocking stuffers.