January 2013 for me and my Tate

I cannot believe January is almost over.  We are 31 days into 2013 and I feel like life is just passing us by!  

Tate turned 3 1/2 on the 23rd and boy did we have the half year disturbances to celebrate.  Then the week of the 23rd he went back to 'normal.'  No more tantrums.  No more meltdowns, and honestly I cannot think of one time he's cried since last Monday, the 21st.  Oh we've had the crocodile tears, but nothing major.  Absolutely amazing.

So when I look back at January 2013 I see lots of love, heartache, worry, friendship, tears and joy.

We spent the first weekend in Dallas for my 'Fight Like A Girl' weekend for my dear sweet J.

Next up was a visit with our allergist to have Tate tested for his egg and orange allergy.  Sadly, he's still allergic and we're to avoid egg and all food with egg in it and all citrus products.

The top welt is from the egg, the second welt from oranges.
The bottom is the control.  His welts have to be smaller
than the control or preferably not present at all to be
considered allergy free.

We went to the Houston Tinplate Operator's Showroom at one of our local malls with my sweet Palmi and her Alonzo.  The boys had a great time.  Sadly, the showroom's last day was the Saturday we went, so until they find a new space we will not be able to spend hours ogling trains.

We let the boys ride the train in the mall and ride the indoor carousel.  A great time was had by all of us.  I love hanging out with one of my oldest and dearest friends.

Aunt Lindsey ran the Houston Marathon in 45 degree, rainy (and I mean pouring rain) weather.  Grandmommy, Papa, Tate and I went to cheer her on at mile 22!!

Lindsey's running buddy, Kristen!

Stopping for a quick break!

Getting ready to go finish up!

We attended an SMC luncheon at Lupe Tortilla's and met two pregnant women, one tryer and another with a 10 month old...pretty low-key.  We had arrived early to accommodate Tate's nap, so left early, but had a nice time.

Sunday, the 20th was Education Sunday at his school's affiliated church.  I took Tate to participate in the children's singing group.  This little guy LOVES to perform.  He had a great time. (In the second to last video the kids are walking into the church.  I just love how he's looking for me as he walks in with his hands clasped in the prayer position and his entire face lights up when he sees me!  That was my favorite mommy moment this month)

Sweet Tate ran into his BFF's head during gymnastics at school last Thursday, the 24th.  My good friend and business manager at my office ran over to the school and picked him up for me.  His teacher texted me during their nap to tell me, indicating he hit his mouth which was bruised and he had complained his teeth hurt.  He then had a pee accident towards the end of his nap indicating to me he wasn't feeling quite right.  D was a bit nervous about how Tate would do with her picking him up since though he knows and likes her, she's never been around him without me.  She needn't have worried.  When I had a chance between patients to run back to the office to see him, he was smiling (in his hideous 'extra' non-matching, too small, I peed on myself clothes) and shouted "My nana picked me up today!"  Poor D is only 54 and nobody's nana, but Tate has not let go of that title for her.  He's thrilled to have a nana!

His love of the Polar Express knows no bounds.  He says it that way All. The. Time.  He can barely get the words out his excitement is so huge.  Makes me laugh every time.

Over the past weekend one of his little friends from school spent the day with us while her mother had to work.  We had a great time...we rode the zoo train, had lunch at the zoo, rode the carousel, took car naps, rode bikes and went to the playground!  These kids really love one another.

And lest anyone think I didn't do anything for myself other than my girls' weekend (with my child) I got my hair relaxed one Friday and had a wonderful 90 minute massage on another Friday afternoon, while Tate happily lunched, napped and played a bit at daycare.

We kept up our usual Tate weekend activities...swim lessons on Friday.  He's doing amazingly well.  His teacher takes the group to the deep end regularly, and Tate can actually swim about 6 feet all on his own.  I'm very impressed.  Though I think Tate's favorite part of swim lessons is the fact that I let him go to the boy's restroom on his own if he needs to go.  Of course he ALWAYS needs to go when we arrive.  It's the only restroom which I know is super clean and the entry is open and I can peek in to check on his with ease.  Plus there are very few men who come to swim lessons, so I can easily check and make sure the restroom is empty and not risk offending anyone :). We're continuing with our Music Together classes on Saturday mornings;  I'm considering making this our last session as he's getting to be one of the oldest in the class and I think he needs more movement on Saturday mornings if we're going to get out and do things.

So that's our January.  The weather has been absolutely schizophrenic.  I was running my a/c all weekend as the temps outside were in the low to mid 80s (ugh), and for the past two nights I've run my heater.  (sigh)  Our allergies are getting the best of us as we both seem to have tickles in our throats and cough a bit.  Tate is back on his Singulair and I usually give him Zyrtec at night.  Tonight I gave him Benadryl as he had a pretty dry, hacking cough, and that nips that in the bud for him.

I've been trying to remember to write a quick gratitude note and place it in a vase every day with simple reminders of good things that occurred to me that day.  I've done it almost half the time.  The idea is that at the end of the year I can go back and read all the sweet notes I've written.  I think it's going to be pretty cool.

Can't wait to see what February has in store for us!!

Sharing

Tonight we were out to dinner and Tate got up on his haunches while we were waiting for our food and said "I want to give you a hug. I want to give you 30 hugs."  He then proceeded to lunge into my arms and lap and wrap his sweet little arms my neck and nuzzle his head in my shoulder for what surely was 30 hugs.  

Pure bliss.

These are the moments I love.  Simply love.

I love mothering this boy.  Love it.  

I love being a single mother to this boy.

I love that right now as I sit here at my dining room table with a list of things on my to-do list (and most HAVE to be done tonight) that I miss him.  

I miss his sweet smile.  His oh so funny little faces.  I miss his love of his trains.  I miss his non-stop chatter.  I miss him.  I want to go wake him up and have him hang out with me some more.

And noone would ever have thought I would consider waking my 3 year old who sleeps the bare minimum up.

I love that it's just the 2 of us against the world.  We are a team.  Neither one of us has to answer to another.  Tate never has to feel pulled in the direction to please or answer to anyone else.  (at home at least)

Selfishly, I love that I get to be his favorite person in the world.  I love that I don't have to check with someone else to see if we can all go ride the train at the zoo for the umpteenth time this month.

Though I'm concerned that he's becoming dependent on us sleeping in the same room more than 50% of the time, it melted my heart when the other morning he trekked down both flights of stairs looking for me and in a tone that exhibited his displeasure told me "I had to come find you."  Later that day, he told me "You don't need to sleep downstairs tonight.  That room is bad."  

My sweet boy.  I slept upstairs with him for the past 3 nights, putting him in bed with me the first two nights when I crawled into bed. 

I know, I know, I know I need to move him into his own room, into his own space.  I have plans to do that this spring.  I'm searching out train paraphernalia, bedding, etc (esp the Polar Express) and have started talking to him with excitement about him sleeping downstairs.  He seems on board with it.

But the good thing...it doesn't matter really if he doesn't like it at first or for a while.  I can sleep down there with him to help with the transition with no guilt about needing to maintain another relationship.  Obviously, I don't want sleeping down there with him to become a habit, but since it's just the 2 of us, we can take it as slowly or quickly as we want.  

There are still days and weeks when I wish I had someone here to bounce ideas off of, someone to see his cute little faces, hear his sweet little voice, watch his antics, share in my joy, in the very moment, of the wonder that Tate sees and finds in the world.  I wish there was someone to take out the trash and clean up the dishes when Tate climbs out of his crib like he did tonight and needed to go to the restroom.  Instead I came back downstairs 30 minutes later and the messes are still waiting.  The clothes still need to be folded.  The trash still taken out.  The lunches need to be prepared.  That's when I wish I had a partner to fill in these gaps.

But the day to day raising of my child.  Nope.  I'll take it all by myself.  

Besides, I've never really liked to share.

Will I Get There With My Sweet Tate?

Martin Luther King, Jr.

Rosa Parks

George Washington Carver

Harriet Tubman

Malcolm X

Medgar Evers

Oprah Winfrey

Addie Mae Collins, Cynthia Wesley, Carole Robertson, Denise McNair - the sweet victims of the 16th Street Baptist Church Bombing in 1963.

Ralph Abernathy

Maya Angelou

Josephine Baker

Benjamin Banneker

Bill Cosby

W. E. B. Dubois

Frederick Douglass

Ruby Bridges

Nelson Mandela

Desmond Tutu

Lena Horne

Barack Obama

Jesse Jackson

Coretta Scott King

The Freedom Riders

Wilma Rudolph

Arthur Ashe

Sojourner Truth

Colin Powell

Condoleeza Rice

Today we honor Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr and remember his dream.  As I drove to work today after dropping my very sweet, happy boy off I realized how very blessed we are, how blessed he is.  This young black American I'm raising.  And I realized how very far we have left to go in this country towards racial equality and peace.   

Yes we have inaugurated our first black President for the second time today.   Barack Obama has been sworn into office as our 44th President of the United States of America.  I'm so proud of him, to be an American and to be able to bear witness to his leadership.

But it's come with a great price in the country of mine.  A great price.  Fear and hatred are running rampant.  And racism is as entrenched in our lives as it ever was.

In fact, I've been told a few patients' parents have, when told my boss is going to be out of the office and that they can see her associate, they've asked..."What color is she?"  

Yes, they want to know what color I am.  This is how they determine whether I'm qualified to see their children.

By the color of my skin.

Not by my degrees.

Not by my knowledge and experience.

By the color of my skin.

Not by the content of my character.

By the color of my skin.

So as Dr. King said ...

...I just want to do God's will. And He's allowed me to go up to the mountain. And I've looked over. And I've seen the Promised Land. I may not get there with you. But I want you to know tonight, that we, as a people, will get to the promised land!

We will get to the promised land.  I know we will.  However, I am sadly sure I can look my sweet little boy in the eye and say I've seen the Promised Land, but I may not get there with him.  

So this abbreviated list of African Americans who have made a difference in the lives of so many, certainly in my life will be on my list of people in history I have to be sure Tate learns about.  He has to learn of whence he came.  And I'm missing ALOT of people on my list.  These are just the ones I could come up with tonight.  There are many more.  And I will have to be the one to teach him and in doing so learn myself.  Because I know for sure he will NOT learn about them in any formal education in his lifetime.  This is word of mouth.  

And I'm forgetting I have two amazing African Americans in our lives right now who lived during the height of the Civil Rights Movement...his grandparents.  They can educate us both.  I intend for us to start as soon as we next see them.

So tonight I'm so very excited that President Obama is beginning his second term.  I am excited about all the good I know he can and will bring to this country.  I have hope that this very divided country can come back together and start to mend our very divided hearts.  

May God bless us one and all and may God Bless America.

So Worried

Tate and I had a really good day today, a really good day.  This is of note as the past 3 weeks have been so very difficult for us.  So much so, that I don't really even want to revisit them, even just in a blog post as I worry that will bring bad juju on me.  But I'll give a brief synopsis.

The week before we went to Dallas, actually the weekend before Tate started having amazing meltdowns.  By amazing, I mean he would cry and cry and scream like this...( so sorry it's rotated)

But for 45-90 minutes.  Straight.  With no stopping.  Most of the time I could barely ascertain what the triggering factor was.  Surprisingly, not usually because I said no to something he wanted.  Because if I knew what the problem was, believe me, I would have fixed it.  I would have given him ANYTHING to appease him.  If when he woke up he rolled the wrong way he would seemingly cry.  If his Cheerios spilled out of his bowl he would lose his mind.  Even when I would tell him it's ok, he would continue.

But when we were in Dallas, well he was spectacular.  He didn't fall asleep until about 930 on Friday night due to all the excitement and playing hard with the other little girls (3 year and 5 year old...who are TIGHT) as well as the pre-teen girls.  I tried desperately to not worry about his sleeping or lack thereof because I wanted to try to give up some of my need to control when he sleeps and not be 'that' mom.  Well this backfired;  I should remember... I know my child.  I know his needs.  I know he needs his sleep, his early sleep.  What others think or do with their children is of no concern to me.

He slept until about 6:15 on Saturday, so really didn't make up his sleep deficit.  As you've seen in the post from that trip at one point there were 35 women in that house along with the 2 little girls and 4 pre-teen girls.  And Tate as well as a 6 year old and an 8 year old boy, but they were lost in their DSs the entire time.  V, Tate's godmother's daughter was awesome in watching out for Tate and taking care of him and he adores her.  And he loves, loves, loves Olivia (the 3 year old we went to Day Out with Thomas with in April), but her true BFF was there who she spends more than half her life with and they are tight as I've mentioned.  But Tate soldiered on, running after the girls, keeping up, oblivious to them leaving him out numerous times (my sweet sweet little boy).

At 2:30 I was trying to get some lunch into him.  Ahhh yes, I've not mentioned a nap, you are correct.  I let him skip his nap as he does that at school all. the. time.  I was having fun with my girlfriends, and I really thought he could handle it.  (yes I suppose those 2 mimosas clouded my judgement)  Well I was wrong.  I had brought our tortillas and cheese and milk and everything else from home, but apparently I zigged with the cheese quesadilla when I should have zagged because he took one look at his lunch and went postal.

Screaming, crying, whining, fussing.  Out of control.  I tried cajoling.  I offered chips (which he had been noshing on all day).  I offered some of Olivia's leftover Halloween candy (of which the kids raided without us knowing and was quickly confiscated).  I offered to remake the quesadillas.  I offered my phone to watch trains, Polar Express, anything.  Nothing worked.

He got more worked up and more worked up.  I put him in the downstairs playroom and tried cuddling.  No dice.  I got angry and told him to stop behaving like a baby.  I got in his face and hissed 'what do you want?'  Just tears and noise. Finally I left him in the room, checking on him 10 minutes later....still laying on the floor flailing about.  I asked his godmother to go in to him to see if she could help.  She graciously did.  I peeked in through the bathroom door and saw her reading to him while he screamed.  She did a puzzle 'with him' while he whined and whimpered.  I went back in and we tried getting him to let me hold him.  Finally after an hour I half-dragged him upstairs and said we're taking a nap.  More wailing.

Finally at 3:45 he fell asleep in my arms as I held him down practically to get him to fall asleep.

Ugh I thought...a very very late nap which would undoubtedly make bedtime a disaster.

He slept like a log until I went into the room at 4:52 to wake him up.  He seemed happy to see me initially and then went into full tantrum mode.  Again.  I was so angry, scared, upset.  I was so very tired.

I went and got him a plate of chips and M&Ms and brought them to him along with a milk.  More tears.  I had had it.  I told him I couldn't take one more minute and I was going downstairs.

Cue Barbie, my diamond sister who I haven't seen since 1989.  She had asked earlier if she could go to him and I kind of blew her off thinking he didn't know her, and I doubted it would work.  This time almost in tears myself I told her to have at it.  She hugged me and went upstairs to my boy.  15 minutes later I saw her out of the corner of my eye walk outside with Tate in her arms still whimpering, no shoes or socks on as they made their way out into 40 degree weather.  They returned 20 minutes later and Tate was hiccuping, but no longer crying.

I gathered him out of her loving arms and took him back upstairs.  I offered him his chips and M&Ms and asked if he wanted to eat them downstairs;  he declined wanting to be alone up in the room to eat he said.  I happily acquiesced and made my way back downstairs.  Barbie said they just chatted and walked, counting all the chimneys Santa must have just come down a few weeks prior.  She said he did say 'there are alot of people here.'

These kids are meeting her for the very first time with that much
love.  It's amazing how kids just 'know' when someone is
so kind, loving and embodies such a beautiful heart.

When Barbie and I saw each other for the first time 14 years.

My poor baby was completely and totally overwhelmed.

I went back upstairs and he was finishing up his 'lunch.'  He then asked where Olivia and S were and ran downstairs to find them.

Like nothing had happened.

Sigh.

I gave the 3 kids a bath around 7.  Then let Tate play to his heart's content until about 7:45.  With the blessing of Angela and Susan, both MDs, I gave Tate a dose of Benadryl to help him sleep and to go to bed earlier because we all knew he needed to get to sleep to make up for his lack of sleep and emotional well being.  He still fought going to bed, but was asleep by 830.

I was absolutely exhausted.  Emotionally and physically.  

But I still enjoyed my sistergirl time immensely.

We returned to Houston with no problems on Sunday.

However, Tate's tantrums and meltdowns continued.  I was late to work Monday - Thursday that week because he became uncontrollable every single day within minutes of waking.  And I quickly realized that me stressing and trying to rush him out the door or trying to make him stop crying did not help.  I just had to let him cry, offer comfort when he would accept it and just was late to work.  I certainly lost my cool a few times and one evening even swatted his bottom three times trying to get him to 'snap out of it'.  That actually worked to an extent;  I know it didn't hurt, but the physical contact seemed to get his attention.  Yet he went back to screeching 5 minutes later.

Last Tuesday, the 15th he screamed so loud and so long that evening that he lost his voice.  He was hoarse the next day and actually still is.

But I finally started letting him just cry as long as he needed by walking out of the room.  I would tell him I was still in the house, but I couldn't figure out what he wanted, and I was no longer going to offer him anything and everything under the sun (which I was doing...from watching trains on my phone, to a rainbow popsicle, to a new Thomas train).  He has a full vocabulary and can tell me what is wrong.  I was no longer going to try to guess as to what upset him.

He went on for over an hour that Tuesday night.  It was horrific, but I held firm.

In addition he started sleeping poorly, waking and crying/screaming around 10p two nights in a row.  And horribly screaming around 3am another.  I put him in bed with me all those times, and one night the only thing that helped was putting on Josh Groban's song "Believe" from 'The Polar Express.'  He calmed almost immediately in the presence of that beautiful music.  And believe me I've brought it out a few more times during the meltdowns with varying success.  But that night at 3am it really worked and he let me hold him.

Wednesday morning was still bad, so much so I called his pediatrician to get her advice and see if she wanted to see him.  Sadly, they were out of the office Wednesday, but she called me back Thursday evening around 7pm.  As an aside, I love his pediatrician.  I so appreciate her taking the time to call me, at no charge and listen to my worries and fears about my son.

She thinks it's just being 3 years old.  She urged me to continue walking away reassuring him that when he calms down I'll be there.  She does want to see him if the night wakings continue to be sure nothing medical is going on.  He has been constantly complaining that his eyes hurt upon waking, and asks for medicine.  However, when I give him coconut milk in a medicine dropper, he says they no longer hurt. He is still hoarse and he's congested, so if he's not better by mid-week I will go ahead and take him in...can't hurt.

Thankfully Thursday morning was tantrum free as was all day Friday.  Saturday went great until we arrived at my parents'.  He had asked to go over, so I told him he could nap on the way over which he was thrilled about.  As soon as he opened his eyes in the car and we were there he started crying and screaming.  I took him on into the house whereupon he continued his madness for 34 minutes.  My poor parents were in shock.  I insisted they leave him alone and 34 minutes later he let me hug him and cuddle him and he went on to have a great time while we were there.

Today was fine as well.

So we shall see what the week brings.  I pray it's just being 3, or actually almost 3 1/2 as his half year birthday is on the 23rd of this month.  Several people have made mention of the half year disturbances in growth and development, so maybe that's what it is.

And I know where my real fear comes in about his neurological well being.  Because truly I was starting to worry something was seriously neurologically wrong with my sweet boy.

Why was/am I so worried?  It's the sheer number of patients I see every single day with a myriad of diagnosed mental illnesses by the age of 8, from severe anxiety to personality disorder to ADHD and ADD to bipolar to being fully medicated.  Kids under the age of 10 seeing psychiatrists, kids hitting their parents at the age of 7 and parents doing nothing.  Uncontrollable rage and mental disease run rampant.

And it makes me so sad.  And it makes me hypervigilant about my sweet child.

Who just tonight told me to be sure to put more covers on myself because "I don't want you to be cold Mommy."  Who hopped down from the dinner table earlier because "I want to give you a hug."  Who asked me 3 or 4 times this morning if I was going to watch him this morning as he sang in church.

My precious boy.

I hate to see him in so much pain.  I know I haven't met his pain with as much love and nurturing as I should have over the past 3 weeks.  I need to work on that; need to work on taking better care of myself, so I can take much better care of him.  

But he knows I love him.  He knows that no matter how much he screams and cries I'm not leaving him alone in this house.

There's no disturbance he can have that's gonna get me out of his life.

We're a team.  Me and my boy.

Wow...that wasn't so brief, was it?! :)

Metamorphosis

In one short evening my baby boy has become a child.

His voice has completely changed.  Of course it could be that's he's hoarse from his 25 minute scream fest last night, but at least tonight it's changed and so much more adult sounding.

I have always put lotion on his entire body after bathtime.  I suppose this may be my lifelong battle to not have ashy skin :) but since the day he's come home he's been 'lubed' up.  I don't use any of those Johnson 'n Johnson products (hate all the chemicals!), so he's never had that 'baby' smell.  I use Cetaphil and it's kept his eczema at bay!

But tonight he told me "I don't want lotion tonight."  I asked "Are you sure?"  He said "Yes, no thank you."

Then he told me "I don't want to wear a diaper tonight."  I've always put him in an overnight diaper even since he's been potty trained.  He's almost always woken up dry since before he was 2 years old (I firmly believe that's a biological thing, not a potty training thing, as I did absolutely nothing to help facilitate that).  However,he also refused to put on underwear.  Sigh.  He's going commando in his footie pjs.  I told him he had could not not not pee in his pajamas!!

He then proceeded to read me his bedtime story!  I just laid there and listened.

I've always rocked him.  I rocked him to sleep every night for as long as I can remember, then one night around 14 months of age I had to run downstairs, so I put him in the crib.  I returned about 5 minutes later and he was sound asleep.  Since then I've rocked him to sleep many nights, and many nights I just rock him to have that mommy/baby time and put him in the crib wide awake or drowsy.  

Tonight I gathered him up and he put his head on my shoulder and we rocked for about 2 minutes.  And then he said "I don't want to be in the rocking chair tonight."  I asked if he wanted to go ahead and get in his crib and he said yes.  Into the crib he went.

And then there's his hippo lovey.  He placed hippo on my fainting couch telling me hippo was not his best friend anymore.  I retrieved hippo asking if he was sure and he actually got very sad, and told me "Please put hippo back on the chair, I don't want him with me."

I was grief stricken!!  It is so true what is said about parents and their kids' loveys...we parents are as attached, if not more so, than our kids are.  I sadly left hippo on my fainting couch and got his Sue-Y bear who he asked for.  

We walked over to the crib (I asked if he wanted me to carry him and he said no, he wanted to walk!) and I put him in.  He curled up clutching his Sue-Y bear underneath the train blanket his grandmommy made him.

Now I'm going to go upstairs, check on my big boy, rub his head, kiss his cheek and whisper how much I love him.

And I'm going to put that hippo into the crib with him :)