Day 1 YMCA daycare - Niko survived

I stayed the course and ventured out to the YMCA today, two kids in tow.  Surprisingly Sami was a little nervous about it because she was going to miss me.  Awwwwww.  After some talks of bravery and treats she was all for it.  Poor Niko had no idea what was coming.  Little guy excitedly got on his shoes and ran out to the car (he loves car rides and going places). 

So, after some shenanigans with the sign in process, which included ID cards for Niko and Sami we headed to the daycare.  I was actually kind of glad that the kids got ID cards because this suggested that there was some sort of process and/or security guards (my preference) at the daycare entrance.  Rewind a bit.  The previous night I talked with my husband about dressing the kids in matching shirts and putting some sort of identifying trinket on them that would match something I had so there would be no confusion about which kid belonged to which parent.  My poor husband just stared at me blankly and a subtly nodded his head (indicating no, crazy person).  So, anyways we get to the daycare and there are no security guards.  Two young girls are running the place and the one that removed the entrance baby gate (that I had hoped was a laser gate with retina scan) was maybe 15.  I started cursing myself for not adding the trinket to the matching shirts (yes, they wore matching shirts).  I introduced myself and inquired about the process.  The process entailed signing the kids in on a generic sheet and placing their ID cards in a behavior chart thing.  Luckily, there were only a couple kids so that made me feel better (less chance of mix-ups).  They told me if Niko cried more than 10 minutes they would come and get me.  I quickly shared my worry about mix-ups and/or possible kidnapping and they laughed and that somehow made me feel better.  I bid them farewell and told them I'd see them in about 10 minutes.  Niko was oblivious when I left...playing with a kitchen set.  I figured this was the best way to leave him. 

So, I saunter out to the swimming pool, which is also not crowded.  I'm feeling so proud of myself. I did it! I left the kids in a low-security gym daycare and I walked away.  And my swim was AWESOME.  Pretty early into my workout I thought, "Why haven't I done this sooner!".  And then the 10 minute mark passed.  I figured "Hmmmmmm. I guess he's doing ok".  Then I see the elder girl (maybe 19) walk out to the pool with him.  This is kind of bad but I dove underwater super fast.  Isn't that horrible!  I didn't think about it...I just did it.  Hiding from the barely legal teenager and more importantly Niko.  Anyways, while I'm bobbing up and down like an idiot I realize that she is just bringing him outside....probably to calm him down.  And this was the moment I really liked her (not like I hated her before).  She was making an effort to help my little guy.  And she seemed to know what she was doing. 

I finished up my swim and realized I didn't bring a towel.  Nice.  Had to throw in a wrench somewhere.  However, some nice lady let me borrow hers in the locker room (wrench undone).  When I returned to the daycare (40 minutes later) there was little Niko looking clinically depressed in the arms of the elder.  When he saw me he started crying and likely thought in toddler-speak, "You mean. I hate you.  Where is Dad?".  Nonetheless, we all left unscathed.  I am so proud of myself and my kids  Especially Sami who takes it all in stride and is so patient with me. 

Score:
low security daycare - 1 
my neurotic, anxious self  - 0.  

Habitat for MySanity



I'm too cute to be stinky. 

Took the kiddos on an outing today.  Met up with some friends at the Austin Science and Nature Center. Really cool place.  And it's donation based, so affordable too.  Today I found myself thinking, "Where did I go wrong with my kids?".  Not so much my older one, but my younger son. I'm considering renting a habitat at the Nature Center.  Maybe right next to the wild cats.  I think he'd fit right in!!!!

It's really hard not to compare yourself to other parents, or your children to other kids.  Most of the time I find myself making excuses for my kids' behavior...an off day or an unfamiliar setting.  But with my younger one it's pretty darn constant.  He fusses.  He cries. He clings.  New day...he fusses...he cries...he clings. 

Here's where I may have gone wrong:

1)  Way overprotective when he was young.  Minimized outings to reduce exposure to germs.  Well, now that's I've typed that I'm realizing he's simply expressing my DNA.  Lovely. 

2) Didn't put him in daycare.  My mom lives nearby and takes care of him, which is AWESOME because she is the sweetest and most nurturing person on the face of the earth.  However, refer to #1 and multiply by 200.  

3) I have minimized outings in general due to my lack of patience and his persistent misbehavior.  I'm realizing that this has probably only added to the problem.  Sigh.



My fix-it plan:

1) Sign up for a membership at the YMCA, which offers childcare for 1.5 hours at a time.  My plan is to drop him and his older sister off quickly, apologize and run in the opposite directions. Does that sound harsh?  Goal - to expose him to unfamiliar environments and get him ready for daycare in the fall. 



2) Continue to take him on outings, knowing that I'm going to be frequently embarrassed.  What I'd really like to do is take him to a restaurant (kid friendly with lots of tolerant parents around), strap him in a high chair and not remove him from it until he finishes a reasonable amount of food.  This, of course, would involve a lot of screaming and tears (him screaming and me crying). 

3) Hire baby-sitters and stop relying so heavily on family.  Again, increasing his exposure to new people. 



4) Stop worrying that everyone thinks I'm a bad parent or that my son is feral (and should be returned to the wild). 

Knowing my neurotic self I will not do all of these, but I'm really liking #1 and #2. 

 


I swear I'm not autistic!

At Niko's 18 month check up my pediatrician recommended that he see a developmental pediatrician.  In typical Michelle fashion, I inquired about her "concerns" but never really got the nitty-gritty on where she was coming from.  I love our pediatrician and I'm trying to make a concerted effort to value her expertise and not question every, single decision she makes.  So, I took the doctor's number and bid her farewell.  

Fast forward to the next day, when I'm obsessing over her "concerns". I talk to a colleague and mention the specialist's name.  To my surprise I find out that this doc specializes in autism.  In initial reaction is, "What? Niko is not autistic! Not even a little!".  However, slowly but surely those little doubts enter my mind.  Oh my God!  What if Niko is autistic.  What if all my friends think so but are afraid to tell me.  Holy hell. Niko is totally autistic.  Shit!  

So, I make the dreaded phone call to the specialist's office. Mid conversation I realize I'm trying really hard to show the appointment clerk that I'm not autistic.  Here's the conversation, with a dash of Michelle drama added:

Office:  Hi, you've reached the center for severely autistic children.  How can I help you today?  

Me:  I need to make an appointment for my son. 

Office: Ok, what's going on with your son?  

Me:  Um....well, funny you ask...well it's not funny it's just that I don't have any concerns.  His doctor does. 

Office: (office realizes I'm in total denial and makes a note in the chart).  Ok.  Did she mention what she was concerned about? 

Me: Not really.  She said he's not talking as much as she would like and she felt like his older sister was more interactive at this age.  

Office: I see (writes in chart - this kid is totally autistic).  So, she is maybe concerned with a speech delay?  

Me: I guess. It's such a pretty day. (trying to be social and demonstrate my interest in two-way conversations) 

Office:  What? Oh, yes.  It is. (makes another note in chart that mom is socially awkward) Any way, would like like to see Dr. Fasci or the nurse practitioner, Dr. Stoner? 

Me: The nurse practitioner's name is Dr. Stoner? That's funny. (again demonstrating my understanding of subtle humor)  Like S-T-O-N-E-R?  

Office: silence followed by an annoyed "Yes".  

Me:  Well. You know. That's a weird name for a.....well, it's not weird just kind of funny.  Long sigh.  I guess we'll go with whoever can see him first (Beating my head on my desk. She totally thinks I'm autistic.  I'm such an idiot!!!!!!!!) 

Office:  (rambles off dates and times)

Me: (Now, trying to demonstrate my flexibility and tone modulation abilities).  Oh, it doesn't matter.  I guess whoever can see him first.  

Office: Ok.  Dr. Stoner is available first.  

Me:  Well, if the doctor said Dr. Fasci maybe I should see her. (crap, that's being inflexible)  No, nevermind.  We will be fine with Dr. Stoner. Well...is she housed somewhere different than Dr. F?  Cause I live in central Austin and if Dr. F is at Dell Children's and Dr. F is somewhere else maybe I should go with Dr. F?  

Office: silence (making copious notes that I am a pain in the ass and indecisive and awkward and switch from low tones to high tones while speaking). 

Me: (totally defeated) Dr. Stoner is fine.

Office:  Ok. We'll see you and your autistic son on ______.   

I know there are secret notes for the doctor in poor Niko's file.  Poor kid doesn't stand a chance!  Sorry bud.  

    

 

Sneak Peek - Sweet Little Collin

I had the pleasure of taking pics of my cousin's newest little addition, Collin.  This little guy is the sweetest ever! 

Lost and Found

Today was the first day of Spring Break.  We took Sami and Niko to daycare so we could get a couple things done around the house.  I'm not good about keeping up with chores, but when I decide it's time to clean I, like Jacob and the wolf pack, imprint on any cleaning product within a half mile radius.  I get a little crazy. 

So, while I was moving couches to vacuum under them, I stumbled upon about 10 small toys.  All of them dusty and forgotten.  Many of these toys were once adored by Sami and Niko.  Played with on a daily basis.  I'm sure at some point in time we spent an hour or two looking for them, but like most things...they were forgotten.  Before I fished them from the cat hair and dirt, I took a couple pictures.  For some strange-ass reason, it was a poignant moment.  It made me stop and think about all the cool things we forgot about ourselves while were busy parenting, cooking, cleaning, guiding, scolding, sighing...you get my drift.  Like Allie from The Notebook saying, "I used to paint!".  I realize Allie had no children and was being courted by two hot guys...she really had it tough.  But regardless, other things used to define me.  Not to down play the awesomeness of being a mom, but I feel like all the other stuff hopped on a rail car and never looked back.  And that makes me a little sad.

I read a blog last night about a successful career woman who was leaving her profession to do the most important job in His eyes...raising a child. I did find it a little suspect that she was married to a pastor, and I'm guessing someone was whispering His wishes into her ear and she slept (rude thought...yes...I know).  The thing that bothered me about the post was this - the women seemed really conflicted about the decision.  Like she was trying to convince herself as she wrote it.  Trying to convince herself that she's can't be both.  A professional and a mother. 

I know this is hard for a lot of people.  Finding balance.  Nourishing yourself so you can nurture your little ones.  That's the way I look at it.  Is my attention 100% where it should be? Probably not.  Could I spend more time with my kids and less time obsessing over my hobbies? Sure.  Am I harming my kids by continuing a personal journey while I raise them? I really don't think so.  I hope they will learn to nurture their own interests the same way.  But I also hope they don't hate me for it. 

So, like those long, lost forgotten toys.  Today I stopped and spent some time nourishing my artistic side.  Albeit in the form of rearranging furniture and taking pictures of hairballs and hot wheels.  Nonetheless, my soul smiled.  And when I picked up my kids from daycare my day reached perfection. 

I Heart Faces - Beautiful Black and White

A mama's touch. Nothing like it.

 This photo was submitted to the I Heart Faces photo challenge – www.iheartfaces.com

 

Who do you feed?

I love inspirational quotes. A friend of mine posted this on facebook, and I must say I was inspired. I've been trying to apply this to my everyday life. Trying to feed the good and starve the bad. Well, today I decided to go shopping on Superbowl Sunday. Probably not the best idea in the world, but hey, I can totally handle this. My mantra - feed the good...feed the good...feed the good.

What actually took place:

Jackass honking at me while I waited for my parking place.

Me - "oh yeah, shitbag, you can stick it up your ass you piece of shit" (while on the phone with a friend, my apologies, Jules)

Very angry man squeezing his way through gridlock carts, who seriously looked like he was going to lose it.

Me - Well, after witnessing that I'm doing pretty darn good over here. Yes - feed that good wolf or dog or coyote or whatever the wise man said. Score!

Now I'm realizing it's getting late and I need to get the kids down for nap soon. Uh oh! Bad mood is enroaching. No! We're doing good. Michelle. Calm. What about counting....yeah....try counting. While counting an intrusive thought makes it past the good dog and all the goodness - your house is a mess, you're going to have to make room in the fridge for all this food you're buying, and then all the 3 month old food has to be dealt with, and then all the glassware needs to be powerwashed....UGH!!!!

Bad wolf winning!

Me - Ok, ok. Good wolf. Here is some yummy food. See. Doesn't it look delicious? Mmmmm. Eat some and then you'll be replenished and balance will be restored in the world.

Good wolf (as played in my head) - No, thanks. I don't want any.

Me - No, but it's really good. Here. Just have a bite. You'll like it, I swear.

Good wolf - No! (a la sassy toddler style)

Me - Eat. It.

Good wolf - Hurls the plate of good karma across the table, reminding me of yet another chore I need to get to.

Me - You. Little. Bastard.

Bad wolf wins.

You see, I try and feed the good wolf. I really do. But I'm really thinking my good wolf has an eating disorder.

And my bad wolf. She is morbidly obese.