Unringing the Bell

Finger Sandwiches (this is the title Alex suggested)

It is not a good feeling to be mad at your own child. However fleeting that anger, to feel it towards your own offspring feels like a kind of betrayal. Worse, to feel it towards one child for their actions perpetrated on the other of your children.

This morning, Georgia bit Rainer.

I was taking pictures of him in his cute little outfit (I love me a little boy (heck, a grown man) in waffle knit, there's something about it that is so cuddle-worthy)...
 
...when she went over and grabbed his hand.

I should have known better. She was particularly chewy this morning (which I countered by offering her her chewy tube), and I had noticed that after I went to get Rainer when he awoke crying she was acting particularly stabby. But instead, I gave her the benefit of the doubt. I suspected she was a smidge jealous, but I also thought she'd feel better just hopping into the picture. As if to say, "I'm cute too! Take a picture of me!" And she is, especially holding his hand like that, "Oh!" I thought, "How cute will these pictures be! Holding hands!"

But I wasn't quick enough on the uptake, and the only picture I got before her molars were making sharp contact with his pinky finger knuckle proved to me how blind I was. Not only did I miss her holding his hand, I also missed the look on her face which clearly says, "I'm pissed."

This was the picture I took just before she bit him.

To the untrained eye, it probably just looks like a missed photo op. But if there's one thing you get to know when you have a child who can't speak, it's facial expressions. I was so wrapped up in getting the shot, that I failed to notice that she was as angry as she was. And I shouldn't have allowed it to go as far as it did.

Within seconds of this photo, she grabbed his hand again and chomped down on his hand. Rainer and I were both so surprised it took each of us a moment to register just what was happening. He realized soon enough with an ear-piercing scream that even the loathed bathing has never elicited from him, while I set to work on releasing him from her clutches. Sadly, oh so sadly, I panicked. I didn't remember everything I had learned (when I worked in a group home with violent residents) about a knuckle turn in the jawbone which is supposed to work like a painless key to separate the jaw from a clench. Instead, I tried to pry Georgia's mouth open and when it didn't work and Rainer's pitch went even higher, I did what you are probably never supposed to do when you are stuck in a bite. I pried her mouth open as much as I could and I dragged his teeny tiny hand from her.

I freely and ashamedly admit that the screaming got worse then. I think I caused him even more pain than the initial bite. But my mind was flashing on images of his poor pinky finger detaching from his hand and hanging from my daughter's mouth and in the milliseconds it took to conjure this gruesome image I was raking his hand free.

Rainer screamed for another few minutes while I held him to me debating in my head the best way to handle the situation. I needed Georgia to know what an awful thing she had done and how it was not something that we would tolerate without escalating the situation and while also trying not to frighten Rainer anymore. I knew that if I waited too long to say something to Georgia it would have no effect (punish immediately and all that), but my paltry. "No! Georgia we do not bite! No biting." Felt ineffectual and, like...not enough.

At the same time, my heart was breaking. Because I was so mad at her for biting her brother. And so mad at myself. In fractions of seconds I was thinking about how none of this would ever have happened if we hadn't put Georgia in the situation where she could make the decision to bite (The nerve! Having more children!), while also thinking, "Oh, my poor, dear baby boy! Georgia for sure never had to worry about such things as having her hand bitten at a mere four months old!"

So,  I said those thing, the "no biting" and the "we don't hurt our brother" while I calmed Rainer down, and then, because I really wanted to nail it home, when he was calm enough to be set down, I brought Georgia up into her room and put her in her crib. I didn't want to look at her. I wanted her to know--somehow--that she was in trouble. And then I walked away and left her there while I nursed her brother. And thought about it.

It was in the thinking about it that I realized a few things. It was then that I realized how much this was my fault and how I need to be more vigilant about protecting each of them from the other (whether it be fingers or feelings of jealousy), I also thought, "Oh shit. Now she's going to associated her crib with punishment and I am already having a hard enough time getting her to nap!"

And I thought about discipline. About how we don't have a plan of action. We don't have a time-out chair or area or rug and we don't spank in this family. But also, if we DID have a time-out chair (in this case I used the crib)...well, I don't think Georgia can understand just what being punished even is! It's really quite difficult to know how to discipline your child in general, but it feels THAT MUCH MORE difficult when you are fairly certain your child just doesn't get it. In fact, I think Georgia was rather pleased to be plunked down in her crib.

All this to say, it was a bad scene, dudes.

And I have a lot to learn. Little Rainer's hand is still red where she bit him. Georgia, well...while I nursed her brother I realized she'd done the time (whether she knew it or not) and it would serve no one well to continue being mad at her, so when I went up to get her from her crib, I hugged her. And spoke to her about how it was wrong to bite her brother but that I understood she might be feeling jealous. I said those words and more as if she could understand them, as if she could understand the discipline in general. Who knows, maybe she could?

I do know she could at least understand my hugging her. My smile. As if to say, "We're still good, you and I."

Who knows, this may be her way of saying "I'm sick." At lunch today she had a bit of a breakdown, wouldn't eat a thing and then more or less voluntarily took a nap (this from my non-napper) at 12:15 (which is more or less unheard of these days). We'll see.

I don't mean to coddle my kids, but I keep thinking about one or the other of them and saying the words, "My poor little Georgia," or "My poor little Rainer" when I think about what happened.

It sure can be tough being a kid. It can be equally tough being a kid's mama.

To keep them apart, but get out of the house, we took a drive along the reservoir. I listened to too many programs about the state of the economy which put me in my own kind of funk, Rainer snoozed, and Georgia, for her part, smiled at me, every time I looked back at her.

Little Green & Fievel*

I'm pooped. Apparently Rainer is in the four month regression stage for sleeping. I was getting naively used to those 6 hour stretches of sleep, too. Shoot. So much for Zzzzs. they're overrated anyway. Suffice it to say the house is a mess, the kids both need baths, we're all a little sensitive and/or slap-happy depending on when you catch us, and we're looking forward to the weekend.

Since I have nothing coherent to say, I figured I would get a couple pictures up while I am thinking about it. Perhaps I ought to wait until I do have something to say, but at the rate we take pictures around here if I don't just post them, I likely never will.

Three Rainer's in one.

Little Miss Muffet

Little Green

Caughtcha'!

Right on, Rainer!

*Little Green and Fievel are nicknames I oft call the kids.

The Four Month Mark

Hey Little Rabbit,

I never know when to decide the month mark. Is it on the day of each month when you were born (in your case, the 31st) or is it every forth week? If it's the 31st, well, then, you don't get to turn 4 months in February. But if it's because you are now 16 (+) weeks, well than yes, you are four months old and then a little bit.

Welcome to month four! Does it feel any different? I used to get so uncomfortable when people would ask me stuff like that as a kid, "So! You're ten! How does it feel to be in the double digits??"

I never knew what to say, but I always felt like I should say something meaningful. Eventually, knowing how shy I used to be, I think I would always just mumble something like, "It feels a lot like nine felt." But I always wondered, did other people feel some profound difference?

Don't worry, kiddo. I don't think it's supposed to feel all that profound. Maybe if, say, you turn thirty, and then you look back and say, "Wow, my dad wasn't even thirty yet when he had me." Then. THEN it might feel profound. But more or less, unless you've had some whammy kind of a year, I don't think it ever feels that different.

That said, since having your sister and you, the last clump of years--maybe not each year individually-- but the last several, looking back, they feel profound.

But enough about that. I am here to talk about you!

While I don't expect each month to feel all that different to YOU yet, I, on the other hand, can't believe that you are four months old already! Each month has brought such new things, but the nice thing about it is that it all sort of melds together in this way that makes sense. I mean to say, you are doing SO much that you weren't doing yet at month one, but it sort of happens gradually, so it's not all that surprising. Although, as I type that, it IS surprising. You are getting so strong so quickly it's all I can do to bring myself to blink lest you turn into a young man in the seconds it takes for me to moisten my eyes!

The things you are doing now are not the big developmental milestone stuff necessarily. You have yet to roll over in any REAL way (although you have accidentally done it a time or two and you like pulling your knees up to your stomach and turning on your side), but you are so alert and active that it's quite fun.

Things you love: squealing with delight (loud, screechy, and over and over), when we make surprised faces at you, stuffing your fists in your mouth, your pacifier, my boobs, when I drag a cloth over your face and play peek-a-boo, your exersaucer, your dad's scritchy scratchy beard, waking up in the night and talking talking talking, watching your sister (from a safe distance), your jungle gym, car rides (to an extent), being around other people and watching them talk, books, snuggling in bed with mum and dad, being naked, tickles (to an extent), when mum blows raspberries, waking up in the morning (you always greet me with a smile), pulling to stand, doing "Run, Run Rainer", "sitting", your bumbo (to an extent), your swing (to an extent), pulling mummy's hair

Things you don't like: waiting for mum in the morning when you are ready to get up, baths (although I can usually talk you into a calm moment or two), being put down, the first 15 seconds of a diaper change (you know, when we put you down), being ignored for anymore than 20 seconds, being on your tummy, when Georgia bops you, being tossed (however gently) in the air, being upside down, teething, bibs when the velcro comes undone

There are probably more things you like and don't like that I have failed to mention. For that, I will be forever sorry. I have to say this: it's not as easy this time around to remember every little detail, to remember to jot each thing down, but please know, they don't go unnoticed.

It's funny, but I find with you, we snuggle more than Georgia and I ever did. I think it's because she slept so often and didn't demand as much at your age that it was kind of easy to just let her be. Don't get me wrong, of course I snuggled with her, we took naps together face to face and I lay awake nights and watched her breathe. But with you, Mister Man, don't go shoving this in your sister's face, but we do have a bond.

Perhaps it's the breastfeeding and the late night squawking that has me in your room several times nightly. It would only make sense. Your father was much better at giving Georgia her bottle and I spent so much time pumping for her while he fed her that, I guess, I think, they developed this kind of bond that I am feeling so much now with you. Truth be known, I was always a little jealous of their bond. I loved it (I still love it), watching the two of them together, especially because it's nice that a father was/is allowed the chance to be so involved and their bond continues, but I'd be lying if I said it didn't sometimes make me feel like an outsider. Georgia and I have a bond now of course--in fact, we did then too--but there's something about being the nurturing food-giving, source that can really bring a couple people, big and small, together.

I love our nighttime ritual of nursing and petting. I love your flailing hands as they look for my finger or shirt edge to hold on to. I love when you pull away, look up at me, smile, and get back to it. I love how unashamed you are when you nuzzle me with reckless abandon.

All that said. Um...maybe just, you know, one or two times a night would be a little better, eh?

It seems lately, these last few weeks. The night time wakings have been...well...frequent. You get up a lot, son! And while, like I said, I enjoy our evenings together, maybe you might have noticed that at a couple of those feedings. well...I've been sort of phoning it in? You know the ones, they probably sound a bit like this, "snoooooore."

Anyhow, Bogey, you will forever be our second child, but there is no lack of love for you. My first, my precious son. With your fat, fat, feet (you get that from your father), and your silly goose blond spiky hair, your enormous wet smile, your squeals of delight, your tiny little heiney, your serious little face, your third eye (sometimes called a stork bite), your delight in being held...your you-ness.

Love forever and a day,
Your (sleepy) Mum

Teeth Cleaning & a Realization

Today is my Monday.

Alex took yesterday off to spend a little extra time with his parents (who left this morning) and so I feel all back-to-the-grind-y this morning. Neither wunderkind napped much (if at all yesterday) and surprisingly at 7:15am are both still sleeping. I am up ONLY because G has school at 9:30 and, well...it takes me awhile to get going in the morning. If I stay in bed, it'll be harder to get up later.

I did NOT used to be that kind of person.

In fact, by nature, I am STILL NOT that kind of person.

More, I am the sort who likes to sop up every last morsel of sleep like the Wonder Bread in the soup bowl of life. But alas...

Yesterday I got my teeth cleaned.

Turns out the dental hygienist was a woman from our local DS group. She has a son (8yo) who has DS.

She recognized me right away from one of the brunches or some such thing and while I recognized her name from the list serve we belong to, I would not have recognized her face. In fact, just before going into my appointment I was thinking "Is this the same S.O. from the list serve???" and I was trying to come up with a tactful way of saying "Do you have a kid who has DS?" Just because if she DIDN'T that might have been an odd question.

Luckily, she recognized me and I kind of played dumb. I have no idea why, but I said something like, "Yeah, I don't know. I thought your name sounded familiar, but I don't know where..."

Luckily she sort of leaned in kind of conspiratorially and said, "Wait...do you have a child with Down syndrome?"

And then it was all Chatty Cathy (from both of us) for a long time. I have to say, I am NOT one to chat much with hairdressers and the sort, and come on, I mean, chatting while getting your teeth cleaned??? Not easily done. But she kept taking her hands out of my mouth so I could respond because, really, we had so much to talk about! Funny how that extra chromosome has become almost a social invitation for me at times.

I left promising that I, at least, would go to the adult DS group get together this Friday night and said that if we could get a babysitter Alex would go too. We had heard about it, but kind of brushed it off because of the bottle refusal thing with Rainer and the babysitter thing, but after talking to her I realized that maybe it would be nice to get out with a bunch of parents in similar boats after all. She promised it was casual and that there would be good food and that nobody would look at me askance if it turned out I had to leave a bit early to get home and feed Rainer, so how could I say no? In fact, I am looking forward to it.

I also left, however, thinking about her son. She has such a great attitude about the whole thing, I think (when I am at my best) fairly similar to my own. Kind of this, "Look, just let's do what's best for my child, I don't care about all the labels and I don't want you to pussy foot around the issues with me. I can handle it. If he needs to be held back in school a year, we'll work it out, it's not the end of the world."

Her son has also been recently diagnosed with autism and I guess while he CAN talk (quite clearly apparently), he has more issues with communication and either chooses NOT to talk often, or doesn't perhaps CHOOSE not to, but just doesn't.

Sometimes though. Sometimes. When I meet a mother of another child who is older, school-aged, and perhaps facing some kind of new challenge, I think to myself, not in any particularly grief-ridden way, but more of an "oh yeah" kind of way, "Huh. Yeah. That's right. This is forever."

Sometimes still, perhaps being that Georgia is yet only two years old, I guess I subconsciously think this whole DS thing is just some novel thing that Georgia will grow out of.

I mean. Hold up. I don't REALLY think this of course. I am not in denial. I really am not.

But sometimes, I guess maybe because we're so busy dealing with today, I don't think about tomorrow. Which, really, if you think about it, is how it should be. No sense jumping too far ahead. I am a planner, I like to have goals, I don't want to be blindsided by the future. But I am living TODAY.

However, when the mother of an 8-year-old starts talking about how he and his younger sister are both in first grade, about new diagnoses, about not talking, and how the kids in class really have rallied around him this year, I think, "Oh yeah. We have a whole life ahead of us. And it's not all going to be easy. In fact, a lot of it is going to be a struggle and a fight."

On a bad day, I won't lie, I might mope a bit about this. Especially because I see the light that is the soul of my daughter and still can't believe that there will be people who won't accept her. I see that she struggles now, but more than that, I see how she is so radiant and smart and I can't believe sometimes that technically in the most medical form of the term, she is retarded. Sure, when we get around other kids of the same age who do not have DS, it is abundantly clear that Georgia has her delays, but I still think she is as precocious and wondrous as any other child.

Luckily yesterday was a good day. Thankfully, I think, more often than not, we HAVE good days.

On a good day, I remember that DS is forever. But I tuck it in my shirt pocket, I know that it's there. But I don't much do anything with it. Thankfully, I don't need to. That chunk of knowledge mostly just takes care of itself.

A Glipmse at What the Last Couple Weeks Have Looked Like

*Jotting in notebooks all the things I want to explore, but haven't the time.
*Seriously considering taking in a rescue dog (to the point of having her here for what amounted to a trial period) only to come to the realization that her fear issues of men (i.e. Alex) are not something we can handle right now despite Georgia's sheer love of said pup (more on this in the future).
*Taking our first road trip with both kids to CT to visit family (and not either ex- or imploding).
*Thinking, a lot.
*Trying to be a good mother by engaging with the kids for as much of every day as each of us can handle and getting out of the house or having people over as often as possible. (This is also an attempt to get Georgia to nap and it is working. SOMEtimes.)
*Contemplating the depths of Georgia's communications frustrations which she has been alluding to with her sort of whine/scream/moan thing.
*Counting up the number of words and signs she actually DOES know from a list provided me by her teacher and feeling somewhat relieved.
*Georgia's 6 month review.
*Rainer not pooping for 7 days, and then for 10 days despite being 100% breastfed.
*Going to the Y. A couple times anyway.
*Meeting with a social worker about special grants/funds for people with developmental disabilities. Trying to be ok with asking for money.
*Being sick and losing my voice.
*Experiencing the following things, sometimes all at once: stress, profound love, guilt, ill-at-ease, embarrassed, ashamed, stupid, relieved, sorry, excited, bored, antsy, tired, un-interesting, ready.
*Introducing my son to my mother for the first time and her delight in his smiles.
*Napping with my son on the couch.
*Having near-heart attacks because Georgia has gotten good at climbing on the couch (but not so good at getting down).
*Cleaned the basement (though did not organize crafts or set up writing desk so I can work on turning my pages of notes into actual writing projects).
*Started considering (not for the first time) submitting some articles.
*Met my sister's new puppy.
*Been on Facebook more than I should be.
*Got ready to make a cake and then didn't.
*Calmed a teething baby.
*Watched "Elmo Loves You" (which Cupid brought Georgia for Valentine's Day) at least 3 times.

So you see. I haven't been writing here. I've been either too busy, too tired, too boring, or too wrapped up. I have a lot I WANT to write about, but they are things I don't want to fritter off all whiz-bang style.

The in-laws are about to show up sometime in the next little bit and both kids are napping (or at least, in the case of Georgia, having quiet time). I may bee too busy again for the next several days.Such is life and the rearranging of priorities.

Until then. If you are so inclined, you can have a long (9 minutes or something crazy) look at what our mornings look like. A frustrated Georgia (trust me, you'll want to turn your sound down to a respectable level), a teething 4-month-old (!!!!) who can't decide if he is happy or sad, and a mom who sounds like she's going to lose it if she doesn't use it.

It's mildly entertaining.

On the Edge

The weather's been too nice, the toddler's been a non-napper, the baby's been giggling & practicing raspberries, the Y's been beckoning, the 6-month eval and other therapies, playgroup, trips for diapers and avocados at the store, playing with friends, long long walks, and learning to travel the uneven terrain of the backyard have kept us from blogland. Mostly good stuff, actually feel like a decent mom this week in the keeping-the-kids-busy department, but the non-napping sure has thrown a wrench in the cogs of our days, especially come 6:45pm when Georgia LOSES it almost completely.

Feels like we are on the cusp of something. She's been frustrated and can't relax. I am hoping it's something to do with language; she has thrown a few new signs and word approximations into the mix (though not on command usually). So much to talk about, think about, ask. But the kids need tending and I have to throw another load of laundry in so I can pack for our trip this weekend. Our first long road trip with both muffins. Wish us luck.

And don't give up on me. I have SO much on my mind (brought on by the 6 month eval, the language issue, the book I am reading about being the mother of a son). I wish I had some time to share it with you. It'd be good to get some feedback.

But for now, alas...toodle-loo.

Brothers & Sisters, Pump Up the Volume

I should have known yesterday where this was going.

She was a tad interested in her old jungle toy.

It was only a matter of time before she wanted in too.

Today was that day.

(Check out Georgia's reaction when I say something like "You're so lucky to have each other.")

 

And here are some stills from the fun. There are a lot of basically the same picture. Mainly because I can't get over how throughly their personalities shine through in these photos. She relaxed, he worried & serious.



He's telling her to back off in that last one.

Mystified

The last couple weeks Georgia is just...turning into such a kid! Where is my baby?

The expressions she makes. The way she acts. The things she laughs at. All so much more--sophisticated!

I mean, she is still a little girl of course, but there's just something different. Some new level of understanding.

It might sound funny, but we've always said that Georgia seems to have this other...I don't know...this other kind of knowledge (or something) that we aren't privy to. I doubt that makes any sense. But it's true. She's always seemed somewhat mature. Or maybe it's her tendency towards aloofness that makes us think that way.

The other day we were playing the game where you ask the other person to describe something or answer a question in one word. I asked Alex to use one word to describe Georgia. I was thinking 'sassy' or 'cute', but he summed her up with a word that just feels so appropriate. It may be because she doesn't talk that this word in particular feels so right. But I think there's more than that. It's the DS, it's the lack of spoken language, it's her ability to entertain herself for hours on end, it's the way she walks in laps around the house, it's the hearty laugh when we're playing some game, her absolute love of music (her newest, most regular sign) and singing that seems so in-born. It's so many things.

She is a riddle and an answer. She raises so many questions and yet shows me the way.

A beautiful, sassy, cute, music-loving, exasperating at times, and puzzling gal.
 
She's an enigma.

Friday....Ahhhhh, Friday.

We were supposed to go to a playgroup today with some kids we know from the DS group, but the host child had a freshly runny nose and cough. Normally I would have just gone, but we are THIS close to getting over this cold and I really didn't want to introduce G to a new strain on the last day of her antibiotics. So, we went over to another friend's house anyway. Too bad because I like seeing these kids in particular and we rarely get to, but I am erring on the side of caution and Georgia and her friend Molly got to paint instead. Or...eat paint as the case may be.

It was nice to get out of the house. MUCH needed. And then both kids napped. That was also much needed. And then, although it's cold out, Alex came home and we took the kids on a long walk. Rainer is at the point where he can now recline in the stroller without the carseat. WOO-HOO! In fact, he is kind of freaky, this kid. I suspect he will be doing things like repairing any computer issues, car problems, algebraic equations I may have by the time he is 6 months.

Oh. Also. Today I signed up to help with a Special Olympics Young Athletes Program. There are some folks trying to start the program locally (for kids 2-7) and I really want something like that here for G, so I am getting on board. We have our first meeting February 20th. It would be so awesome if Georgia could have something like this, and I have a fair amount of energy I'd like to expend on something that feels meaningful.

So yeah. The pendulum swings the other way with me yet again. Feeling a bit better.

So...who's ginormous kid is this?

Oh, that looks more familiar...with the lip and all.

He really does like this thing actually. I was all "No, it's too early!" when Alex brought it up from the basement, but Rainer took to it like a fish to water. He's been playing with toys and putting them in his mouth. And he's able to roll the toys on this thing too! It's SO different this time around. SO DIFFERENT.
Not better, mind you. JUST DIFFERENT.

Did I mention it was different?

Hey Dad, you think he looks a tad like you, or what?????

Here's G with her fake smile again. Reading a book before our walk.

And then when we got home again.

(Nora, the hat you sent her last year fits perfectly this year!!)

Cutter's Remorse

Hair is weird.

I suppose you will think I am a tad loony too when I tell you that I spent the better part of last night unable to sleep because I couldn't believe I just chopped all my baby girl's beautiful hair off. I'm not going to lie, I already miss her ponies.

I really felt a certain sense of mourning.

This morning, when I heard her stirring, I was excited to go in and see her. I wanted to see just what a terrible thing I had done and I crossed my fingers going into her room hoping that I would still like it well enough.

I am happy to report, I do.

I am a tad anal and there are definitely parts I want to fix once she'll let me near her with scissors again. Mainly in the back--it's definitely a tad rough back there. Looks a little too grown-up. I DO miss my baby's wispy hairs and minor curls.

But I have to tell you. THIS is a lot easier to deal with in the morning. Trust me.