Then and Now

Know how people recreate childhood pictures as adults? We did a version of that this Christmas, reliving the memories of a Christmas past.

Look at those adorable little kids.

Oddly enough, my dad was more willing to recreate this picture than to wear my Santa shawl as festive outer wear on our bowling outing Christmas day.

We had a bit less real estate to sit this year, for some reason.

Needless to say ... I don't see us being able to do this again. 😄

Improvisation

This past weekend I noticed Teddy got a bit creative to entertain himself while we were driving. He took the string of his lacing toy, inserted one end into the charging port of his phone and inserted the other end into his ear. He created his own ear buds for his phone, a modern spin on the old-school telephone game.

This kid cracks me up.

Really creative approach to make your own headphones.

Non-Verbal Communication Misinterpreted

Today I took Teddy to music therapy for the first time since the pandemic. Pre-pandemic, I accompanied Teddy to music therapy each week, so I'm extremely familiar with it. We put services on hold through summer and resumed this fall to round out his therapy for his education this school year. His therapy sessions are smack in the middle of the work day, so our sitters have taken him each week. 

But our sitter was off today, so I took the day off to be mom because Teddy had physical therapy this morning, music therapy this afternoon and a meeting with his caseworker. As we drove to music therapy, I asked Teddy which building it was at because the program has expanded that therapy is now located in two buildings, one on either side of the road. He didn't point at the first building and was very excited when we parked at the second building. I was happy to see how excited he was to attend music therapy.

We waited until exactly 5 minutes before his appointment to minimize waiting room time and headed inside. I kid you not, Teddy was so excited he ran to the front door. We went into the waiting room, and he sat down nicely. I asked for his jacket and asked where I should hang it, and he pointed to the coat rack. He bounced around a few of the chairs, super excited to be at therapy. Then he was pointing to a therapy room, so I said, "Oh, that's where you do therapy?" He tried to go into his therapy room, but I told him we needed to wait for his therapist.

After several minutes, right when I expected his therapist, the lady sitting at the desk came to us and informed us that Teddy's therapy was across the street. (I'm guessing it took her a few minutes of texting Teddy's therapist to make sure she hadn't moved the location ... either that, or she was so entertained by Teddy's exuberance that she wanted to soak it up.) 

As we headed across the street, I asked Teddy why he didn't tell me. The little stinker was so excited because he thought we were going back to somewhere he hadn't been in a year, not the same ol' place he goes every week with Ms. Bri. 

Guess there's probably some merit in this new communication device that's supposed to arrive Monday ...

Report Card

Last month, Teddy got his report card. Now, if you know Teddy, you know that although Teddy has many strengths, most of those are not items captured in the academic setting. (Heck, if you've read my blog before, you should know that.)

Report cards are different than when I was a child, at least for elementary school. The grading scale is:
4 - Advanced
3 - Proficient
2 - Basic
1 - Below Basic

I've learned from my experiences with AJ's teachers the past two years that 4's are simply not given at this age, so let's pretend the scale goes from 1-3 for purposes of this post.

First, let me say that I know from talking to Teddy's teacher that she strongly dislikes assigning grades because she recognizes that they don't capture the effort, skills and progress of the children she teaches. I completely agree.

Still, Teddy's report card made me laugh aloud. Most of his grades were understandable 1's because of the categories on which he's graded. He did get a 2 in science, though, for Earth and Space Science. How? Why? He also got a 2 in Health, which also befuddles me.

Now, something like gym, I feel his grades are more accurate. He got 2's across the board there, which is still really generous but balances his interest and efforts with his actual skill level.

Music was where I had to chuckle. He got a 3 for Engages Appropriately With Music, which I think is realistic. However, the poor kid didn't stand a chance for Singing. He got a 1. Seriously ... why would you grade a non-verbal child on a skill that requires verbalization?!?!

An accurate assessment of Teddy.

The one area that I felt fairly captured Teddy and scored things that make sense for Teddy was the life and career skills. He got mostly 2's, which is fair. He did get a 3 for Initiative and Self-Direction, and I don't think this is an exaggeration. Teddy has a lot of ideas, and he's persistent in following through on those ideas. Now, that 1 in Leadership and Responsibility goes hand-in-hand with that 3. A lot of Teddy's ideas are not responsible, but that doesn't stop him from pursuing them.

Now, if they scored him on adorable smile, he'd get a 3. Heck, maybe they'd even give him a 4 for those dimples.

The Day The School Called Three Times

Last Friday I got a call pretty early in the school day from Teddy's school nurse. I was a bit skeptical because the last time she called, the school's policy involved sending Teddy home because of a rash on his face of unknown origin. ( We worked through that situation without Teddy coming home, as the school is new to Teddy and not familiar with the breakdown that frequently occurs on his face due to his drooling.) This time she was informing me of an injury that involved Teddy smacking his face into a door frame. 

Since she said he seemed completely back to his usual demeanor and not affected by the incident, I told her that an ice pack wasn't necessary unless it was a really significant injury because he has no interest in them. She said that he tolerated one for about 30 seconds, but his teacher had it with him as he continued on with his day.

So I was a bit surprised when the nurse called me again around lunch. She had given Teddy his medicine he gets with lunch and wanted to update me that it looked more like a scratch. I said OK and laughed to myself when we hung up the phone. Seriously, if I called someone every time Teddy got a bump or bruise ... 

And then Teddy came home.

Teddy a.k.a. Scarface

Well, I understood why the nurse called me twice. He looked pretty rough, but of course he was all smiles. 

Teddy's teacher had asked me to call her to discuss the incident. It turns out that Teddy thought he should go to gym instead of his classroom when he arrived at school. So he made a beeline for the gym, probably laughing and running because he knew he was doing something he shouldn't. It was all fun and games until he ran straight into the corner of the door frame. I think the real reason his teacher wanted to talk was to apologize and tell me how terrible she felt. I did my best to reassure her, although I'm not sure that telling her that I smashed Teddy's hand in the door earlier in the week was reassuring ... but it does prove the point that accidents happen frequently with Teddy. 

On the bright side, I don't think I've heard from AJ's school nurse once yet this year. And, honestly, Teddy's school nurse can call me every day this year as long as it's not to inform me that Teddy's had a seizure. 

The Time Teddy "Helped" Make Cookies

My to-do list Friday morning included baking cookies to take to my dad as part of his Christmas present. (He gets to pick a homemade treat each month.) I managed to snap a few pictures of Teddy helping me bake the cookies.

I held a caption contest with myself when I posted these pictures on Facebook. Should they be called:

• Reasons why my floor could be mopped every hour.
• Anybody want Teddy to come help you bake?
• This is why we have ants in our house in summer.
• Teddy "helped" me bake cookies.
• This is an HOUR of my life.

I ended up doing a combination of those, but without further adieu, here are some of the least blurry pictures of my helper.

I shall spread this flour I dumped onto the floor to celebrate my victory in wrestling the container from Mom.

Mom, I wasn't sure which pan you needed. I got them all out for you.

At least he's eating whole grains. And I now know he can open twisty ties. His OT will be so proud.

Perhaps he felt he was a bit messy that he should pull out fabric for me to make him an apron ...

This is his version of cleaning. His version also includes riding that little vacuum like a horse.

The Time My Husband Gave Me a Panic Attack

Yesterday I got the following text from my husband:

Teddy took another ambulance ride to Childrens

Now, picture only seeing the text, "Teddy took another ambulance ride to Childrens (Hospital.)" That's the text from Dave that I got on my Smartwatch yesterday afternoon. I was in the basement putting away things from my friend's baby shower at my house. I immediately ran (which I'm not supposed to do on my stress fractured tibia) up the stairs while screaming, "No, no, no!!!!" I dived for my phone to get more information and saw the picture.

My immediate reply text to my husband was three words. One was "you." The other two were for mature audiences, only but they rhyme with ducking rastard. (I did apologize a few minutes later once I could breath again.) My two closest friends were still at my house from the shower and were asking what was wrong as I ran through my house screaming. I replied "Nothing" and tossed my phone at them to see the text.

Then I went back to the basement, curled in the fetal position and sobbed for a few moments while reassuring myself that Teddy was indeed fine and everything was OK. I went back upstairs and apologized to my friends for completely freaking out.

I'm not surprised that I had such a visceral reaction because I had similar experiences after I lit myself on fire. There was a time when I was in the same room as bacon cooking where it sounded exactly like the grease fire that burned my hand. In an instant I dove under the kitchen table and hurled myself into the bathroom. There's a whole lot of mental and emotional trauma from our experience last month still for me. I had known that, but yesterday confirmed that without a shadow of a doubt.

I'm actually hoping that yesterday was one of those moments that helped me process more of the baggage that is still hanging around from last month. I know Dave meant the text as a joke, and I would have been able to roll my eyes at it had I seen the picture with the text. I'm just glad he sent the text when only my two closest friends were here instead of a houseful of 20 people who I barely know to witness me wig out.

Today I can see the humor in my reaction to what was intended as a humorous text. I'm still not sure there's a morale to this story. Maybe that Dave is still alive and didn't need an ambulance ride of his own after sending that text message?

Teddy's Spirit Animal

If I were to believe in reincarnation, I'd be adamant Teddy was a panda bear in a past life. When I watched this video shared by Vix on Facebook, I couldn't stop giggling. Teddy is a panda bear.

He grabs onto you and clings to you. He topples over losing his balance. He pulls your hair. He dumps any container placed in front of him. He tries to escape from where he's supposed to be. He goes where he's not supposed to go. And he looks absolutely adorable the entire time.

Now, if you need me, I'll be watching more Teddy, I mean panda bear, videos.

When's the Last Time You Called Poison Control?

Based on the title of this post alone, you know it's going to be a good one, right?

Let me share a little bit about our day, which can mostly be captured with my Facebook posts. Here's the first one, shortly after my first failed attempt to put Teddy down for a nap:

Snowman fun after baking the pizza AJ made at school. Teddy is not in the picture because he insisted on heading to the neighbor's house repeatedly. It's not his fault. They invited him over. I mean, their garage door was open, so that's like an open invite to Teddy. 
 

AJ was waving the snowman's arm.

I swear that an open garage door, or better worse yet, an open door on a vehicle emits this strange frequency that only Teddy can here, summoning his presence. Once our neighbors left their vehicle hatch open for an extended period, presumably drying out something inside the vehicle. Let's just say we had to go inside because we couldn't keep Teddy in our yard. Today I chased him down at least three times as he headed to the neighbor's house. Had I let him be, I'm sure he would have been happily inside playing with their little girls' toys or trying to climb into their fishing boat.

Would it be rude of me to bake all our neighbors cookies and deliver them with a request to keep their garage doors and vehicle doors shut?

Fast forward about an hour later when Teddy should be tired from playing outside. Nap time, round two. He seems to be settling down after some of his usual thumps, so I decide to get a head start baking birthday treats for Dave (and eat lunch since it's 1:30 p.m.) Maybe he fell asleep, but wait, did I just hear him? Hmm, that's a lot of thumping, but he's not upset, so we'll finish up our baking (and LEGO time for AJ). Oops, he's crying. Better go rescue him.

30 minutes later came my next Facebook post:

Good news-Teddy used his fine motor skills to open a bottle with a twisting motion. 

Bad news-he did it when he was supposed to be napping.

Worse news-it was a bottle of Tylenol from the diaper bag hanging in his closet.

Best news-Poison Control says he'll be just fine, even if the bottle was full before he got it open. (And there's a chance he ate none. He won't tell me.)

Then he was playing in the toilet twice while I was on the phone with Poison Control. Sometimes I wish he wasn't developing all these skills ... eh, I just realize he use them more appropriately.

This is the second time I've had to call Poison Control. Fortunately both were relatively minor incidents with no significant risk of harm, so instead of panicking I simply felt guilty about being a bad parent as I made the call. For some reason, I'd much rather call his pediatrician's office than Poison Control, even though I know the nurse is going to tell me to call Poison Control.

Based on comments to my Facebook post, quite a few other parents make use of this valuable resource. (Seriously, I appreciate their knowledge, calm demeanor and let's not forget their non-judgemental responses.) And I had one other person who has children with the same type of diagnosis as Teddy share a picture of her son after he drank from the toilet, imitating their family dog.

Sure, I could have posted pictures of the cupcakes I baked and just our snowman, but that doesn't tell the rest of the story that happened during the making of those events. Sometimes, folks, we just need to keep it real.

Fashionista

One of the unique things about Teddy is that he still prefers to bunny hop as his mode of transportation. He'll crawl properly (never knew that was a thing, did ya?) sometimes, and he'll choose to walk when he wants. But bunny hopping is easiest and fastest for him, so it's what he does.

Bunny hopping is exactly what it sounds like ... it looks like he's hopping like a bunny. And he's cute like a bunny, which is why we don't call it frog hopping I guess.

Bunny hopping may move Teddy from point A to point B quickly, but it also destroys his pants. I've seen him take a brand new pair of jeans, wearing them only for the second time, and put holes in both knees in a single afternoon. Hopping around on concrete does that to jeans. In fact, Teddy is the only child I've known to have worn holes in his shorts. Two pairs this summer ... apparently they were just long enough that the fabric covered the part of his knees otherwise known as his landing pads.

The end result is we have a lot of pairs of pants with holes in the knees. Those become the clothes for up north or around the house, and I send him to school in pants that haven't been shredded yet. (That's my plan, at least until I run out.)

Coming back from up north, we stopped for ice cream. As Dave was leaving with Teddy, he overheard a table of teenage girls commenting on how cute Teddy looked with his ripped jeans.

Yes, my child is a fashionista. He's wearing the hottest trend.

It's only because his coping mechanisms for his low tone destroy his clothes, but that's beside the point. Dave now plans to sell Teddy's pants online as custom fashion jeans. At the rate Teddy works his magic, he can design a new pair every week. Dave's planning to sell them for $50/pair.

I doubt Dave will actually start his joint business venture with Teddy. But just in case you have some extra 4T pants, I could cut you a deal if you want to be a supplier for this great opportunity.