Mom to the Screaming Masses

Alrighty, then

It appears, from comments and emails, that I may have ruffled more than a few feathers with my comments on the post "Big families".  It wasn't my intent.  I do appreciate it when people cut me some slack, if I forget something or if I am late.  I just felt like, in one circumstance, that the idea of a big family was being abused.  And I don't want to get into the habit of using it myself.  I apologize if I offended.

I left a message for the PhD, and spoke to the LCSW.  The LCSW said that there is nothing she can do for me.  The nurse from the PhD, who happens to head up the neuro dept at the medical college here, called me today for an intake.  I explained everything as best I could.  The nurse, at one point, said "Wow.  She sounds like she has some issues."  Thank you.  I really needed to hear that.  It actually brought tears to my eyes.

I vacillate daily, sometimes hourly between feelings of frustration that she is so difficult, glad that she will be receiving help, and saddened that she is struggling.  I continously feel guilty.  Maybe something I did, or didn't do, when I was pregnant or in the first year of her life, could have changed her.

So, this phone call happened while I was at gymnastics with Gabriel.  When I got off the phone, one of the mothers started talking to me, and it turned out that she used to do neuro work.  She said that the Dr. that we are on the list for is phenomenal, and worth the wait.  The PhD is also very very good.  She said that she had, for a while now, thought that there might be something up with Riley, but she didn't want to worry me or annoy me.

If you were in a similar situation, and saw something that worried you about another child, what would you do?  Would you tell the parent, and risk alienation, or keep your mouth shut?

The fun of the early morning

The good:  When I went into the bathroom to pee this morning, I noticed that the tp roll was empty.  But, someone had put a new roll on the counter for me.

The bad:  When I grabbed the roll to replace it, while I was sitting, I dropped the roll.

The ugly:  It rolled all.the.way across the floor, leaving me stranded.

Five minutes of real time blogging

My oldest is watching a replay of the Pope's funeral with me.  I thought I'd blog our conversation, since it was mind boggling to me in it's sheer breadth of different topics.  I was amazed that the boy was still breathing during this time - he talked non stop.

Is that a priest?  Yes.  Oh.  He doesn't look like one.

Do you know that the Eastern Orthodox wear crowns?  What happens if you are Catholic and you wear a yamulke?  Will you go to Hell? I tried on Jason's and it was comfortable - kind of like a hat.  Wonder why?  It is a hat, kind of.

I see the altar servers.  I wonder what it would be like to be one for the Pope.

Is the announcer the one saying the Mass?  No, that's the translator.  Cardinal Ratzinger is saying the Mass.

When was the Pope born?  I don't know.  Why don't you know?  When was Ratzinger born? 

Ratzinger is shorter than all the other guys there.

My teacher said........ (repeated about three million times.)

Why is the coffin so narrow on the end?

When the Cardinals are sealed for the election, how can they breathe?  (Thus followed a brief explanation of the Conclave.)

Is Daddy home?  No.  Are you sure?  Yes.

Larry King (commercial break) looks goofy.  Him and his suspenders.  I agree with you there, bud.

Hey, who do you think will be our next Pope?  I'm not sure - it is pretty cool though, to know that our new Pope is already there.  (Personally, I'd like Arinze, but think that it may be Ratzinger.  Or the Italian guy - forgot his name.)

Sigh.  I love the kid madly, but I NEED him to go to bed.  My brain is t-i-r-e-d.

Further questions

Maybe I am misunderstanding something.  Isn't a LCSW a person who sits with you, listens to you talk, and gives feedback?  Kind of like a counselor?  What good would that do me?  I don't need someone to listen to me talk about her - I need to figure out what is wrong with this child and fix it already.  Know what I mean?

Or, does a LCSW work differently?  Am I confused?

Asking my friends in the computer

What would you do?

My groovy, wonderful pediatrician called me today.  She had a phone consult with the incredibly busy Neuro Developmental guy.  She explained the situation, and he agreed that she definitely has a, um, quirk, difficulty, what have you.  He thinks she needs to be seen, AND he thinks I'll be able to get in before Sept. (I joked that it may be August - the dr. didn't get it.)  In the meantime, he would like me to consult with one of these two choices - a Ph.D, or a Licensed Clinical Social Worker. 

I laughed, and said that I didn't feel like the LCSW would be my choice.  To me, that doesn't seem like the best choice.  I don't want to talk about this, forever and ever.  I don't need therapy.  I don't need to talk about it.  I need to DO.  The doctor said that both would do an analysis, and take a history, and similar stuff.  Both are supposed to be very well qualified in the field of baby neuro stuff.

I'm thinking about actually doing both, even though it will cost me a bunch of money.

What would you do?  What should I do?

A day at the doctor's office

Today was a very difficult day.  We went for the referral - well, technically, all I needed was a name, since I don't need a referral for my insurance. I spent quite a while talking to my doctor.  I got there fifteen minutes before her first afternoon appt, and I brought her a cup of Starbucks. I always do that when I go for a visit - I like her a lot, and like to do something nice  Plus, it never hurts to bring a gift.  Lots of times I bring sweets for the nurses and office staff. 

When she came out in the waiting room to talk to me, she said, "Wow.  I see a smile from Riley.  That's nice.  She must be doing better?"  "Um, no, not exactly."

All of the problems just poured from my mouth.  The screaming, the unhappiness, the constant constipation, the feeding issues, the lack of sleep, the up four or more times a night.  She listened, and didn't interrupt.  I gave her the list of what Riley had eaten in the past day, and she looked at it.  She commented that it was a good diet, but a bit heavy on the dairy.  (In one day, she had had 1.5 of the small danimal drinkable yogurt, and 2 small pieces of cheese.  So, maybe too much.)

She gave me the name of the doctor.  She agreed to do a CAP-RAST - a food allergy blood panel.  She agreed to check her iron level again.  It was low at 9 months, and again at 12, back up at 14, and low again today. 

So, in one day, the poor kid had three shots, a blood stick on her foot to check the iron level, and then we had to go for the blood stick.  I could have done it another day, but then I would have it hanging over me and I would wonder.  (I've already done a skin test for her, and not found an allergen, but maybe something will come up from the blood levels.  Who knows.)  We went to the lab, who sent us across the street to the hospital.  It took three of us to hold her still, and the tech took two copper tubes from her.  She's got a blue bruise on her inner elbow, but it doesn't seem to bother her in any way.

I called the Neuro Deveolpmental Pediatrician, the one who was recommended, and asked for an appt.  The first appt was, hold on to your hats, Sept 14.  SEPTEMBER!!!!!!!!  I asked to be put on the waiting list, and was told that Riley was number 81.  I kind of doubt 80 people will cancel appts before September, so I've got to figure out what to do.  My kids allergist is at the same Children's Hospital, and I'm thinking about asking her to see if she can get me in with him any earlier. 

I bought some Valerian Super Calm, which is supposed to help calm the nerves and promote restful sleep.  I gave it to her tonight, and she was out within 5 minutes, but she was pretty tired from playing outside all afternoon.  I'm not holding my breath. 

So, I feel pretty good.  I told the doctor that I really appreciated her listening to me, and not brushing me off.  She said, " Well, you are clearly not one of those country club mothers, with one kid and no knowledge of how kids are. You know what you are doing and I trust you completely."  I was *so* glad to hear that.  Especially since, before I left, she had the chance to see and hear Riley throw one of her major temper tantrums, and was suitably impressed. 

Chooseday Tuesday

Totally swiped , uh, borrowed from Michele.

Rules of Play:

The person before you has offered you two items to choose between, so go ahead and choose one.  Now you list two items, yes, any two, for the next person to choose.

Sound fun?  Of course it does.  I'll start, and in keeping with this being MY blog, and I get to change the rules, you tell me which of my original two choices you think I'd pick.  Then, answer the person above you, and then leave your own set of two choices for the next player. 

Hair, or Fiddler on the Roof?

Ok, I did it

Tomorrow, I have an appt with the pediatrician, for Riley's weight check and shots that she missed last week.  I also will be getting a referral for the consult. 

I feel awful about it.  I feel like I've failed her as a mother, and failed my other kids.  I hate that I fight with The Hubster so much about her.  I hate that I have to struggle to find nice things to say about her.  I hate, most of all, that I thought I had it all figured out, and in reality, I know nothing.

I bought this book.  In the front, it has a questionnaire to score your child, and the family.   Any score over 4 for the family and 12 for the child, and 16 for a total, indicates a V. difficult child.  Our family scored a 5- the highest possible-  and Riley's score was a 16.  Our total was 21. 

So, keep us in mind tomorrow.  I know that I'll get a referral - I was offered one and didn't take it, since I was (v. stupidly) so certain I had it all figured out.  I hope I can get Riley seen quickly.  I'm dreading the trip to Cancun next weekend.

Life and death

*Note : stream of consciousness to follow - kind of rambling, not making much sense.  Just getting my thoughts together.* 

When I finally crash into bed at night, there is invariably a list of information running a ticker tape through my brain.  Pick up drycleaning, call for doctor appt, pay mortgage, grocery for oj.  Nothing earth shattering, nothing major; and yet, just enough to throw off the balance of the next day, if I don't get it done.

How many people die, though, with a list of a different type on their minds?  Reconcile with my dad, learn Chinese, teach my daughter to knit, learn to prayer the Psalms, find a cure for cancer. 

Before I die, I want to be certain that my children are prepared for life.  Prepared, in the miniscule things, like learning to cook eggs, balance a checkbook, parallel park, grocery shop on a budget.  I also want them to learn how to balance their lives.  To find the time to pray, to read, to continue their education, to have time for friends, amongst the daily grind. To learn that work will always be there, but the rest might not.

What is so telling to me, though, is that I have recently become fully aware that I am creating memories for my children.  With few exceptions, I remember nothing from the time when I was younger than about 8.  My older ones are at a time in their lives, a time that I can recall.  I remember being ten, and getting a bike for Christmas, and riding it down the block.  I remember when the Pope was elected, and viewing the white smoke curling from the top of the Vatican.  When I told them about the death of the Pope yesterday, they were outside with friends, playing basketball across the street.  I leaned out the window to yell for them to come home, and my son wanted me to just yell out whatever it was that I wanted.  I refused, however.  I didn't want his memory of the death of the Pope to be compromised by the sight of his mother, yelling the news like a fishwife.

My so-called life in pictures

Well, here we are.  The requested shots:

Me dancing: 1986 Les Sylphides: (it's kind of blurry)

The inside of my refrigerator:  Notice the plethora of danimals and sodas, as well as the bag from the Cheesecake Factory and all the healthy fruit, milk and oj:

I don't have a desk anymore, so here is the junk drawer in the kitchen:

My kids rooms:

Big boys, little boys: They are kind of dark, but if you click on them you can see a bit better. The only part you can't see is the other side of Nikolas' room, where the 100 lb boxing bag hangs.

Big girls room in two parts:  

little girls room:

And, last but not least, tonight's dinner, which was especially yummy - Chicken picatta with whole wheat noodles, shrimp scampi (to use up the shrimp before it went bad, since I forgot I bought it), peas and bread.  I also cut up some strawberries.  The kids had milk and I had soda.

My house, this past fall:

I lie:  One more picture: Riley in her new seat:

There.  I'm done.  Unless I forgot something, or you forgot to ask me for one.