Squidbits from March and April
We went to the doctor this morning for the Year 3 checkup. This time, Squid did have an ear infection, but after earlier cries of wolf! "I have a boo-boo in my ear!" (when he did not) I hadn't been sure. The doctor listened to his chest (the nasty cough is not in the lungs, thank God), weighed and measured (50th percentile all around), checked his eyes (20/40 vision; I think he got bored toward the end and stopped paying attention) and did a few developmental checks. Can he copy a circle? Yes. Draw a cross? No. Identify the primary colors? Yes. Understand opposites? Yes. Fill in the blank in simple sentences? Yes. There was a brief pause after the final series of basic questions, while the doctor wrote things down. The Squid piped up into the silence, "The compressor squishes the air into the fan an' it goes to the combustion chamber!"
The doctor's eyebrows almost hit his hairline. Heh. I think the Squid's probably okay developmentally, don't you?
Nutritionally, I'm surprised he hasn't wasted away, considering that the most veg we can get him to actually swallow is a raw carrot or two. He has segued into the food preference set that eschews anything green and likes only those foods that he has seen other kids eat at preschool. Chicken nuggets are a delicacy. Fruit is (thank God) still acceptable, though not kiwis (green). White carbohydrates with butter on top are his favorite food group. Sigh. We've taken to making him eat at least a few bites of whatever we are having in the evenings, which can be an hour-long negotiation process complete with tears, throwing things, and surreptitious dog-feeding. But gummi bear vitamins are not going to make up for a total lack of nutrients in his diet, so what else are we to do?
I have not been the mother I want to be these last few months. I haven't been a bad mother, but I've done better. As I wrestle with my own mental medical issues, I have been withdrawn, flat, and tired. I have accomplished the cleaning and feeding and care of the Squid, but I have also snapped at him (once totally unfairly, which made him cry), been short on patience, been distracted from his needs by my own, and generally not been there for him the way I want to be. We've had good times - gone to parks, the library, and on visits to friends, played in the sand, hung out in the backyard, done Lego sculptures, etc. We've had visits from Grammy and Grandpa, and traveled to Los Angeles to celebrate Grammy Vi's 97th birthday. It's not all me being disastrous. But I know if I were well I could do better. And I'm afraid he's somehow picking up on my depression.
He's been really emotionally labile for the past month, which is developmentally appropriate but still has me worried. The smallest disappointment will send him into pouting, slumped-shoulder misery, or even real tears. "I'm sad," he says. "Can you ask me if I'm okay?" I try to talk to him about why he is sad, and to be matter-of-fact about it if it is just a not-getting-his way thing, like, "Yes, I know you don't want to eat your carrot, but that is what we are having for dinner," and to provide hugs and sympathy but not cater to it overmuch. It's a fine line, and I feel totally hypocritical trying to deal with his sadness in a cognitive-behavioral way while I treat my own emotional breakdown chemically. I don't want to deny what he feels - it is sad not to get everything you want - but I don't want to create incentives for him to be sad, either.
Still, it leads to some sort of adorkable conversations.
Squid: I'm really sad.
Me: Why?
Squid (exasperated): Because I just not happy!
or
Squid: I'm sad.
Me: Why?
Squid: Because I not taking off.
Me: You mean like a rocket ship?
Squid: Yeah.
Me: Oh, so you don't have booster rockets?
Squid (dejected): No. Just shoes.
We're consciously trying to teach him a few things now, instead of just letting him pick up whatever he picks up. Himself is working on his safety information (his full name, parents' names, address, etc.), I'm working on teaching him to ask for attention when he wants it instead of acting out, and we are both encouraging a little more thinking about the potty. He has little to no interest in potty training to date, but as his Bumble classmates start to graduate into "Caterpillars" and younger kids come in to his group, I am afraid he will be isolated. Potty training will be a big factor in when he is allowed to advance. I'd like him to know our cell phone numbers, too, but I think it's a bit early for seven-digit strings.
We are reading lots of big kid books now, from "Take It Apart Plane" (whence his knowledge of gas turbine engines) to "Bread and Jam for Frances." He will reference whole chunks of them in conversation, often out of context, and sometimes I am sure that I am the only person who could possibly parse everything he says. And then he'll come up with something even I can't parse, and there goes that illusion. "I want clover by clover!" he insisted the other night. How could anyone who didn't do all his reading with him possibly know that that means "Horton Hears A Who," in which Horton searches "clover by clover" for his friends the Whos? I asked him what he was digging a few days ago. "Nomes and bones!" he chirped. It took me two repetitions before I realized he was referencing a line in Margaret Wise Brown's "The Diggers." I'm starting to do letter sounds with him, and to talk about how words are put together; Himself and I both learned to read around this age, and I'd love it if the Squid took to it early as well. He already "reads" some of his books from memory, turning the pages and reciting the story, even doing the voices. It's just a matter of putting it all together.
Speaking of which, do any of you remember the name of a book about a cranky, misanthropic cat named Carl, whose human family pleaded with him, "Oh, Carl, please, Carl, please come to our picnic"? I can't find it and it is making me crazy.
When I skip a month there is so much to tell that I can't remember it all - like how he made up this word, "cack," that meant whatever he wanted it to mean at any given point, and used it all the time for weeks and weeks, and expected that we would just know what he meant. Like how he asked to wear my pink wig and then put his face adorably in his hands and announced, "I'm a lady!" Like how he has us place each of his stuffed animals carefully at a very specific place in his crib - a different one each night - before he goes to sleep. He is growing and changing so fast, and each day brings so many new things that I am constantly delighted.
Himself and the Squid leave Friday for a trip to visit my in-laws, and I stay home to work, so I will be missing a great deal over the next month. I hope I can find my center again, and be a better mommy and partner on their return. Cross your fingers for me that between the time and the meds something turns this one around; my family and my work - and I - deserve better than this.
The doctor's eyebrows almost hit his hairline. Heh. I think the Squid's probably okay developmentally, don't you?
Nutritionally, I'm surprised he hasn't wasted away, considering that the most veg we can get him to actually swallow is a raw carrot or two. He has segued into the food preference set that eschews anything green and likes only those foods that he has seen other kids eat at preschool. Chicken nuggets are a delicacy. Fruit is (thank God) still acceptable, though not kiwis (green). White carbohydrates with butter on top are his favorite food group. Sigh. We've taken to making him eat at least a few bites of whatever we are having in the evenings, which can be an hour-long negotiation process complete with tears, throwing things, and surreptitious dog-feeding. But gummi bear vitamins are not going to make up for a total lack of nutrients in his diet, so what else are we to do?
I have not been the mother I want to be these last few months. I haven't been a bad mother, but I've done better. As I wrestle with my own mental medical issues, I have been withdrawn, flat, and tired. I have accomplished the cleaning and feeding and care of the Squid, but I have also snapped at him (once totally unfairly, which made him cry), been short on patience, been distracted from his needs by my own, and generally not been there for him the way I want to be. We've had good times - gone to parks, the library, and on visits to friends, played in the sand, hung out in the backyard, done Lego sculptures, etc. We've had visits from Grammy and Grandpa, and traveled to Los Angeles to celebrate Grammy Vi's 97th birthday. It's not all me being disastrous. But I know if I were well I could do better. And I'm afraid he's somehow picking up on my depression.
He's been really emotionally labile for the past month, which is developmentally appropriate but still has me worried. The smallest disappointment will send him into pouting, slumped-shoulder misery, or even real tears. "I'm sad," he says. "Can you ask me if I'm okay?" I try to talk to him about why he is sad, and to be matter-of-fact about it if it is just a not-getting-his way thing, like, "Yes, I know you don't want to eat your carrot, but that is what we are having for dinner," and to provide hugs and sympathy but not cater to it overmuch. It's a fine line, and I feel totally hypocritical trying to deal with his sadness in a cognitive-behavioral way while I treat my own emotional breakdown chemically. I don't want to deny what he feels - it is sad not to get everything you want - but I don't want to create incentives for him to be sad, either.
Still, it leads to some sort of adorkable conversations.
Squid: I'm really sad.
Me: Why?
Squid (exasperated): Because I just not happy!
or
Squid: I'm sad.
Me: Why?
Squid: Because I not taking off.
Me: You mean like a rocket ship?
Squid: Yeah.
Me: Oh, so you don't have booster rockets?
Squid (dejected): No. Just shoes.
We're consciously trying to teach him a few things now, instead of just letting him pick up whatever he picks up. Himself is working on his safety information (his full name, parents' names, address, etc.), I'm working on teaching him to ask for attention when he wants it instead of acting out, and we are both encouraging a little more thinking about the potty. He has little to no interest in potty training to date, but as his Bumble classmates start to graduate into "Caterpillars" and younger kids come in to his group, I am afraid he will be isolated. Potty training will be a big factor in when he is allowed to advance. I'd like him to know our cell phone numbers, too, but I think it's a bit early for seven-digit strings.
We are reading lots of big kid books now, from "Take It Apart Plane" (whence his knowledge of gas turbine engines) to "Bread and Jam for Frances." He will reference whole chunks of them in conversation, often out of context, and sometimes I am sure that I am the only person who could possibly parse everything he says. And then he'll come up with something even I can't parse, and there goes that illusion. "I want clover by clover!" he insisted the other night. How could anyone who didn't do all his reading with him possibly know that that means "Horton Hears A Who," in which Horton searches "clover by clover" for his friends the Whos? I asked him what he was digging a few days ago. "Nomes and bones!" he chirped. It took me two repetitions before I realized he was referencing a line in Margaret Wise Brown's "The Diggers." I'm starting to do letter sounds with him, and to talk about how words are put together; Himself and I both learned to read around this age, and I'd love it if the Squid took to it early as well. He already "reads" some of his books from memory, turning the pages and reciting the story, even doing the voices. It's just a matter of putting it all together.
Speaking of which, do any of you remember the name of a book about a cranky, misanthropic cat named Carl, whose human family pleaded with him, "Oh, Carl, please, Carl, please come to our picnic"? I can't find it and it is making me crazy.
When I skip a month there is so much to tell that I can't remember it all - like how he made up this word, "cack," that meant whatever he wanted it to mean at any given point, and used it all the time for weeks and weeks, and expected that we would just know what he meant. Like how he asked to wear my pink wig and then put his face adorably in his hands and announced, "I'm a lady!" Like how he has us place each of his stuffed animals carefully at a very specific place in his crib - a different one each night - before he goes to sleep. He is growing and changing so fast, and each day brings so many new things that I am constantly delighted.
Himself and the Squid leave Friday for a trip to visit my in-laws, and I stay home to work, so I will be missing a great deal over the next month. I hope I can find my center again, and be a better mommy and partner on their return. Cross your fingers for me that between the time and the meds something turns this one around; my family and my work - and I - deserve better than this.
posted by The Stute Fish at 17:05
3 comments
