Whose kid is this?

We attended a Valentine's party at Luke's preschool this week. All of the children exchanged valentines (which the mothers had selected and assembled, of course). They were supposed to sit in a circle and sing a little song. Each child had a construction paper heart to hand to their mother, as well. Guess who's little boy refused to sit in the circle? This is the same circle that he sits in every time he is at pre-school. He was extremely stubborn and insisted on sitting apart from the circle on a stool. He was happy to hand me the heart, along with a big hug and a sloppy kiss. It still didn't win any points. I am so FRUSTRATED with this child! Each time I pick him up from preschool or MOPS, I receive a discipline report from the teacher. The yelling and the talking back is probably par for the course right now, but the disrespect for authority and the hitting and kicking other children is becoming a bit disturbing. It's like he's two personalities: the sweet, articulate, enjoyable little boy who usually lives at our house and the obnoxious, disrespectful out-of-control little boy who arrives occasionally and mortifies his mother. We took him to the pediatrician yesterday for a little discussion. The doctor referred us to the behavioral health department of his practice. He said we aren't presenting a situation that sounds like any kind of personality disorder, but since we are concerned then he wants to refer us. The part that just makes me laugh is that the first available appointment isn't until the end of April. Looks like we could be in for an eventful spring around here.

A Future in Fine Arts?

Luke started a new Kindermusik class last Thursday night. He is the only boy with 2 little girls in a class called Imagine That. It is supposed to incorporate imaginative play with music and a basic intro to rhythm. I was horrified to discover that the take-home curriculum involves a drum. What are they thinking?!

Luke spent nearly the entire class running in circles and tapping his hand on the drum. His rhythm is actually okay for a little guy. The little girls sat quietly in a circle while their mothers just stared at me with polite little smiles. I could tell they were not nearly as impressed with Luke as I am. Ha!

This morning he went with Steve to his rehearsal at church. Steve helps with the worship time during the first service. Luke gets to hang out and "sing", using his favorite orange car as a microphone, while they practice the songs they are going to sing with the congregation. We'll see where this leads...

Not Again!

I took Luke to see the eye specialist on Friday afternoon. This was his 12 week follow-up from the November surgery. His vision is excellent but the eye lid still looks "droopy". The surgeon is fantastic, we are so impressed with his skills and his knowledge. However, he delivered some news today that I absolutely did not want to hear. He feels that the surgery was not effective. The eye still looks droopy because it still turns down slightly. He said he was "baffled."
I worked in health care in my previous life and I know that you don't want to be "baffling" or "interesting". That's doctor speak for "not quite sure what's going on here". The doctor did 3 times the normal amount of surgery on one particular muscle. If anything, you would expect that the eye was over-corrected. Unfortunately, the eye only experienced 3 or 4 degrees of elevation. We were hoping for closer to 10.
I was totally shocked because I thought the results were more positive. I knew the eye still turned down a little bit, but had no idea the change was so minimal. He referred me to a well-respected pediatric eye specialist in Seattle. He wants to hear that doctor's opinion before we even consider operating again. If that doctor doesn't know what to do, then Dr. L says we should consider going to UCLA for an appointment with one of the more knowledgeable specialists in the country.
I held it together until I got the boys in the car, then called Steve right away. He was terrified, I'm sure, because I was crying. Nothing like an emotional woman to make the situation seem worse than it is. Steve actually called Dr. L. right away to see if he could get any more information. I didn't even know what to ask. We didn't really gain any new insights, just that Luke's depth perception is at stake if we don't figure out what's going on.
We were so upset. I know it could be so much worse, but it is still so frustrating and a little scary when things are uncertain. I'm especially grateful that glasses aren't necessary right now. That would really be a bummer.

Evening Excitement

We have just a smidge of cabin fever after spending so many consecutive days in the house. We often rely on Steve to keep everyone entertained between dinner and the boys' bedtime. It's really a very small amount of time, but seems much longer when you factor in all the whining, fussing, tantrums and sibling rivalry. Anyway, Steve made Luke a mask because we are in the scary monster phase these days. Luke ran through the house yelling "roar!" then giggling hysterically. That's my kind of monster. In an effort to be fair, because I'm in the let's-make everything-equal-for-both-boys phase, we took an amusing picture of Andy, too. His hair is so long, but he is too sick to go to the barber. Steve quickly fashioned a mohawk for this photo op.

This Is Not in My Contract

We said goodbye to to the vomiting virus on Thursday.
Then immediately welcomed 2 colds, one for me and one for Andy.
How does one go from vomiting to catching a cold, all in the same week?
As I'm cleaning up messes and wiping noses (including my own), I find myself muttering, "this is so not fair!"
I was attempting to read the sports page this morning before Steve went to work. The Mariners are searching feverishly for a star pitcher to add to their line-up. What if motherhood was like professional athletics? We could negotiate salaries and sick days, vacation time, no-trade clauses...
I don't really want that, because I know that isn't how this deal works. I am well aware that I signed on for the whole package.
Unfortunately, that includes scrubbing the remnants of bodily fluids from all sorts of obscure locations. That was definitely NOT in my contract.

Sometimes...

You gotta laugh to keep from cryin'. The vomiting virus has come to town, attacking indescriminately. I was the lucky winner at our house. I was feeling a smidge better this morning and the weather is beautiful, so I thought perhaps a road trip to grandma and papa's would be just the thing. I haven't eaten much, so clearly my calorie deficit was effecting my ability to think clearly. The fact that I barely had the energy to load the car was my first warning sign. Luke's pasty white skin should have been the second sign, but I hastily ignored the warnings and off we went. Luke kept squirming and whining for quite awhile until finally he launched his breakfast all over the car. I wasn't really prepared for that. It's about 35 degrees this morning, but I pulled into the nearest parking lot (Target) and proceeded to undress the poor little guy. He was totally grossed out and very upset. Andy watched the whole thing in total silence...probably his first experience with projectile vomiting. It left me a little speechless, too. I can honestly say that this is one of those times when I had no idea what to do next. I changed Luke's clothes and then waffled between calling my sister to come and rescue me versus going in to Target to buy a new car seat. Those didn't seem like viable options, so I called my mom, instead. She gave me some much-needed sympathy and suggested we head back home.
We made it home safely but with much weeping. The events of the morning have carried over into the afternoon. Luke vomiting, Andy staring in disbelief, me cleaning up the mess. Rinse and repeat. Sigh.
If anyone has any good hints for removing vomit from car seat straps and buckles, I am all ears.

Food Fight

Before I was a parent, I often observed other people's children refusing to eat the food on their plates. I can remember sitting at the table for an eternity as a kid, refusing to eat my pork chop. And my lima beans. Probably anything green, to be perfectly honest. I am a picky eater, particularly if there are vegetables involved. Well, I think God has a sense of humor (and he also answers prayer) because I'm thinking my parents prayed that I would get what I deserved.
I deserve a picky eater and I got one. I've read books, watched talk shows, consulted other parents, posted questions on internet bulletin boards, blah, blah, blah...
I'm not sure why I fight this battle, because it seems to be an endless, uphill fight. The results (a clean plate) are rarely achieved and I'm generally much grumpier than before the meal was served.
I started reading Cloud and Townsend's Boundaries With Kids because I've come to the conclusion that my boundaries are often, well, "mushy". I find it difficult to be consistent, which doesn't bode well for the little people around here. In an effort to make the boundaries more precise, I threatened Luke with "nothing else to eat until lunch" if he didn't eat his breakfast. It's the same toast we serve every morning, but today he refused to eat it. To add to my frustration, none of my tactics were effective. He still went out the door without eating anything and I felt anything but victorious. Sometimes I step back and really think about the events of my day and wonder, "How did I get here?"