Back to Basics

How easily you forget how things used to be. You think you have it hard until you realize how hard it actually was. That is me...today! Bubba has been off his medication for 17 hours now, and all the symptoms I forgot existed are slowly creeping back in. (To our credit... Evander and I are not testing out some cruel experiment, but Bubba must be off his medication for 7 days in order to have accurate allergy testing performed on Tuesday.)

Last night, after removing his normal dose, I said casually, "It isn't that bad. He acts like this anyway!" By 9:00 am I was on the phone with Our Children's House begging for an occupational therapy appointment. He was, and is, literally bouncing off the walls. He is banging his head on the wall, eating cardboard, and screaming in the highest pitch my ears have ever heard. In a way, I wish I had my pediatrician's home number because I know she would be fascinated by the immediate return of certain behaviors but not others.

For instance, while he is climbing on top of our headboard and free falling onto the bed, he is completely verbal. As he fills his mouth so full of turkey he looks like a squirrel hoarding food for the winter, he is sitting quietly, making sure to use his napkin. After he spins in circles for minutes at a time, he politely asks to watch his favorite show. Why do some behaviors return and others do not? What tells his brain to flap his hands and use his words?

I'm not so sure why but I do know that we have returned to basics. after coming home from therapy I scooped Bubba up and slammed him on the bed over and over and over again. He was then rolled up like a taco and tickled. Next was wrestling and jumping. To many this may sound like child abuse, but to those who know, it is sensory therapy. His senses are overloaded with the sights, sounds, and smells around him. He needs the hard impact play to feel and understand where he is in space.

Autism spectrum disorders are immensely fascinating to me, and, if I had the time, I would love to study all about them. Why does it pick some children and leave others healthy? Why are some children severe and others lightly touched? The answers to these questions I may never know, but I do know that we are one of the lucky ones. He is verbal and relatively independent. He is incredibly intelligent and full of energy.

3 instead of 2

As I sit at Bubba's gymnastics a small girl approaches. She points to Peach, lying in my arms, and exclaims "baby!". Out of nowhere a woman in her mid-thirties appears and says, "Yes...baby!", and I immediately place the girl with the woman as she continues, "So... do you have three?" "Yes..." I reply. "How is it? With 3 I mean? Is it any different than 2? We have thought about having another, and I just don't think it would be any more hectic with 3 than with the 2 I have," this perfect stranger confides. I chuckle to myself and say, "The chaos was already there, but now it is chaos for 3 instead of 2."

My day began at 3:48 am as Peach begins to stir. I fumble for a pacifier but it doesn't satisfy her, so I sit up and reach for a bottle. After a rough night, I can barely hold my eyes open as I feed her. After eating, she is restless just as she has been all night. Tossing and turning, fussing and kicking. At about 5 am, she settles down and I begin to doze off when I hear the bells jingle. No... it isn't Santa Claus but it is Bubba. I waken Evander to head off Bubba before he can pounce on the still-sleeping Baby, safely tucked away in her bed, but he is too late.

I, then, hear the growing whine of a newly woken Baby, which instantly turns into a high-pitched scream, "MMMMMOOOOOOOMMMMMYYYYY!" Before I know it, she is standing at my side, explaining that Bubba woke her up and asking for me to put her back to bed. "I can't, Baby, because I'm holding Peach and she JUST went to sleep. Daddy will put you back!" "NNOOOO! I WANT YOU TO!" Evander comes in and scoops her up to put her in bed as she screams all the way back down the hallway.

I force myself to emerge from the toasty warm bed to begin getting ready for the day. In between yelling at Bubba to leave Peach alone, Evander and I manage to take showers and get dressed. Next is time to get Bubba dressed, which is like watching a turtle cross the road. You know he will get there, but you have no idea just how long it may take. Finally, Bubba has managed to put on his shirt and underwear when Baby is back again, jumping on the bed and waking Peach up. Somehow, amidst screaming, whining, and crying we manage to get all three children dressed and fed in time to be out the door by 7:30 for our 8 am ARD meeting at Bubba's school.

In order to make Bubba think it is a normal day, Evander drops him off at school and circles back into the parking lot to meet Baby, Peach and I. While waiting to be called back for our meeting, I schedule an appointment with the pediatrician for Peach. I had a feeling our bad night was due to an ear infection. Just as I hang up, the diagnostician calls us into the meeting room. In the meeting Evander and I advocate for appropriate goals for our son while juggling Baby, who hasn't stopped asking questions since she awoke, and Peach, who now has a fever and green snotty nose. As the meeting ends, I tell Bubba's teacher, "I'm going to need to get him now, so if you could just bring him up that would be great." Yes... he has only been at school an hour but Peach has a Dr appointment in an hour and the possibility that I won't be home in time to get Bubba off the bus doesn't sit well with me.

After running home to change a dirty diaper and grab another bottle, we are in the pediatrician's waiting room, where Bubba has created his own obstacle course (over the coffee table, under the chair, over the arm rests, and jump over the garbage can). The pediatrician's office always reminds me of what it must be like to be a dog catcher. I am constantly running after someone and catching them, only for them to get loose and run like hell all over again.

After learning that Peach indeed has her second ear infection, we drop off her prescription at Walgreen's, speed through the McDonald's drive through (where I yell "If you want to eat lunch today, you better do it now!"), and park at gymnastics. I quickly jump out of my seat as if I was launched and clean the smeared food from their faces as they hop out of the car. We are running into gymnastics when I realize that Bubba has NO shoes on. Oh well... he doesn't need any for gymnastics anyway. I push Bubba through the door, plop down into a chair, and extract a screaming and very hungry Peach from her seat.

As I sit at Bubba's gymnastics a small girl approaches. She points to Peach, lying in my arms, and exclaims "baby!". Out of nowhere a woman in her mid-thirties appears and says, "Yes...baby!", and I immediately place the girl with the woman as she continues, "So... do you have three?" "Yes..." I reply. "How is it? With 3 I mean? Is it any different than 2? We have thought about having another, and I just don't think it would be any more hectic with 3 than with the 2 I have," this perfect stranger confides. I chuckle to myself and say, "The chaos was already there, but now it is chaos for 3 instead of 2. I wouldn't change a thing!"

Speech

Six months ago, our speech therapist told me that his minor delays were now age appropriate. Six months ago, she said that he no longer had feeding issues. Six months ago, Bubba graduated from speech and feeding therapy. Two weeks ago...we began again.
After our pediatric ENT and pediatrician suggested that Bubba receive ANOTHER speech evaluation, he qualified for speech... AGAIN. I do agree that he needs the therapy, but I don't like that we were told his speech was "age appropriate" only a few months ago. He has many articulation issues, as well as a lack of ability to answer questions that do not have a concrete answer. He also still exhibits feeding difficulty, but Evander and I had come to the conclusion that those issues were just going to be part of life.
This go-round, I requested a specific therapist who is working closely with us. She sends him out with homework and makes him work hard for his end-of-therapy sticker. My hope is that he can finally get the attention he needs.

Naked Princess

I have a confession to make. My daughter is a nudist. It began with potty training, and it has become a way of life for her. During the initial phases of potty training, I didn't mind that she was naked from the waist down or completely naked, for that matter. It was less laundry for me to do.
Now, however, I find myself constantly compromising with Baby just to keep her underwear on. With the exception of one near-naked incident at gymnastics, she does keep her clothes on in public, but as soon as we walk into the house, they are off. By the time I have unloaded groceries, my daughter is playing happily totally nude. I find her wearing only Cinderella slippers or carrying her purse. She thinks nothing of running outside to play or sitting on the ground.
How do we stop this? I have no idea! Does it really matter at 2? I don't know! What I do know is that she is a free spirit, an independent thinker. Even at 2, I know that she will not conform to what others expect of her or suggest she do. She is her own person, naked or not!

Just Another Day

Friday morning was spent updating my mom on the children's activities and routines, as well as providing directions to places of interest (school, hospital, etc). She also tagged along with Baby and I as we made our weekly grocery run. We arrived home just in time to unload all the groceries, give the dog her medicine (Belle has a cone collar around her head because of an infected injury), and check on my dad, before the bus arrived carrying Bubba.
I wanted to make sure Bubba's bus driver met my mother before she would be getting him off the bus, so we hurried out the door to meet them. Not feeling particularly great, I had just slipped on an old spaghetti-strap dress and was wearing no shoes. Baby was also still in her pjs (but she had decided to stay inside and watch Dora the Explorer). I quickly introduced Momma to the two lovely bus ladies because cars had started to line up on either side of the bus (which is very rare at 11 am). I turned around in time to see Baby swing the front door open and leap off the front step with one cone-collar wearing mini poodle and one 120 lb lab escaping behind her.
Belle runs for the street, and I (literally barefoot and 10 months pregnant) start off behind her. After running into the middle of the street behind the dog, I noticed the bus driver was holding the traffic for me (which was very kind). I somehow manage to wrangle the 10 lb poodle, even though I could barely bend over to pick her up, while my mother herds the cow, I mean lab, and children toward the door.
As I turn around to close the door, my mother laughs as she notices that one of the cars still has not moved, even though the bus was leaving. I believe he was so stunned by the chain of events that he couldn't move. Everyone made it safely in. Just another day at the Gregory house! Can it get any crazier?

Back to School

Well... it has begun again. School started on Monday, and Bubba was actually excited (and a little anxious). He has the same teacher from last year, and several of his friends from last year have joined him as well. They are in the beautiful NEW Frisco Early Childhood Center, and he couldn't be happier. What can I say? The kid loves a routine!

The only frightening moment came when his bus didn't arrive on schedule. Already anxious about the bus ride, I had called the transportation department, checked in the office, and emailed his teacher earlier in the day... all to make sure he was to ride the bus and get off at our house. I was told that he should arrive at my doorstep at 11:15, but that didn't happen. At 11:30 I began to worry. Did he get on the wrong bus? Did they drop him at the wrong place?

So... I called transportation again. This time, I found out that the school let out 40 minutes late! Shoo! I tried to calm my nerves as I anxiously waited by the door. Finally the bus slowed to a halt right in front of our walk, and my big boy got off.

He had a fabulous first day and continues to have a great week. The bus was scary at first, but he is now getting used to it. Now, if I can just get Baby started to school before Peach arrives!

Home

Evander and I scurried around a tiny, humid hotel room trying desperately to get ourselves ready. Is a dress to much? Are sandals appropriate? The nervous energy in the room was enough to overtake even the most laid-back of individuals, and the unairconditioned room was starting to get to me. Only days before, I had run to the mall to pick out the perfect outfits for Evander, Bubba, and I, but, as I stared down at what was before me, nothing seemed to be the right fit. There was no time for changing, though. We had to be in the lobby in just a few moments. We dressed, double checked our documents, took a deep breath, and headed for the door.

Three years ago, on August 8, 2006, Evander, Bubba and I anxiously headed for the US Embassy in Guatemala City. A woman from the adoption agency met us, along with 3 other couples, in the lobby of the Westin Hotel. There she detailed exactly what would take place: we would wait to be called to the window; we would enter a room and be asked some questions; we would wait for our names to be called again; we would receive Bubba's visa. As we entered the Embassy, I immediately noticed that it was unairconditioned. Great! I was 2 months pregnant and wasn't sure if the pregnancy, the nervousness, or the lack of air was about to make me vomit.

As we approached the window to retrieve Bubba's visa, our final step, I could feel butterflies in my stomach. As the woman looked through our paperwork, she stopped and stared at one of the pages. "Oh no!" I instantly thought. We filled something out wrong, or they forgot to put the correct stamp on it. What is it? Will we get the visa? Please, please, let us take our baby home. Then, she raised her head and said "You were born in Birmingham, Alabama?" "Yes" I stammered. "Well... I'm originally from Alabama. My whole family lives there." she exclaimed.

I wanted to say, I'm sorry but I didn't hear what you just said because a load of bricks just fell off my shoulders. Instead I listened and smiled as she continued to talk about all the places I knew in Alabama, as she mindlessly stamped our papers and prepared Bubba's visa.

First class is something that Evander and I rarely, if ever, splurge on, but this was a special occasion. We wanted everything to be just perfect (or as perfect as possible). We quickly found our seats and, as I removed Bubba from the Baby Bjorn, we prayed for a good flight. It couldn't have been any better. Other couples were walking up and down the isles bouncing their babies and pleading for them to stop crying, but the three of us sat quietly, just taking one another in.

It is hard to believe that Bubba has been home for 3 years. While a lot of our journey with Bubba has been challenging for us, I would not take it back for anything in this world. This child was a gift from God and meant to be part of our family. Evander and I (and Baby) love him with all of our hearts.

*Note: Baby would be upset if I did not make very clear that she WAS THERE when we went to pick up Bubba in Guatemala. She was just snuggled in my belly!

Baby News

For the past week or so, I have been having regular contractions. Sometimes they are ten minutes apart for a few hours, and sometimes they are 6 minutes apart for several hours. Sitting down, standing up, drinking water, or lying down do not seem to help. For this reason, my OB decided I should have an ultrasound to make sure that everything is going ok. So... I hired a babysitter and headed to the doctor yesterday.

As I lay down on the table, millions of thoughts were running through my head. I had assured Evander and my mother that everything was fine, but, secretly, I wasn't so sure. Everything about this pregnancy has been different. I know it is #2, but something has just been a little off. I jokingly asked the ultrasound tech to make sure it was a girl, because I had some painting to do if not and tried to relax as she began.

She began by measuring my cervix, which was the main reason I was there (so I thought), and it was fine. Next, as she scanned over the baby's various organs and extremities I watched in awe. It always amazes me how the ultrasound is a tiny window into your baby's world. I watched as she sat with holding her head in her tiny hand, sticking her tongue in and out. I saw her "breathe" in and out and laughed as she put her hand in between the ultrasound and herself, blocking the view of the tech.

I immediately had two questions but I tried to wait until she was done. "Shouldn't the baby have flipped by now?" I asked. A breech baby has been my secret suspicion from the get-go but I refused to tell anyone my fear. People have a way of brushing it aside by saying "Oh it can still turn" or "My friend's baby didn't turn until she was in labor". I'd rather not hear someone's nonsense and chose instead to keep it to myself. My next question was "What is the weight estimate of the baby?"

As the nurse practitioner entered the room (my doctor was out for the day), she said "Well Donna... you've got a pretty big baby in there and a breech one at that." All of these things I knew and didn't need ultrasound to confirm, but now there was factual evidence. The baby is actually 5.7 lbs at 32.5 weeks. The practitioner went on to explain that, typically, babies grow 1/2 lb a week at this stage, and she does not believe the baby has room to turn. I am also measuring 34 1/2 weeks. Hhhmmm! I was not expecting what came next, however.

"So I will talk to Dr. Never In and see what she has to say, but I'm thinking you need to be induced or have a C-section no later than Sept. 15."

Okey, Dokey! Not exactly what I thought was coming, but it is do-able. So...now I will go back in 2 weeks to see if things are still the same (breech and gigantic). Assuming they are, I will be having this baby a few weeks early!

*For the sake of the blog, the baby will be called Peach. Having Baby and baby is a little confusing!

Blog Posts

I am obviously not doing a great job keeping up with the blog. I have begun to find that, while I have a lot to say and share, I simply do not have enough hours in the day to do it all. I will do the best I can to continue our blog, because I love doing it, but I cannot promise a weekly post. I imagine it will only get worse when Georgia arrives, but we will see. Thanks for understanding!

The Question

The Question that I had been waiting for finally arrived, and while I had been expecting it for some time, I was not quite prepared for it. I'm not sure that a parent can ever be truly prepared for these questions, but you simply do the best you can. You answer as honestly as possibly, while taking into consideration your own child, and hope that you said the right thing.
After completing Bubba's nap time routine (read a book, 1/2 cup of milk, sing Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, Rock-a-Bye Baby, ABC song, and say his prayers), he stopped drinking his milk and looked at me. I knew some sort of questions was brewing, but I wasn't sure what. Then he began:
"Baby grew in your tummy?"
"Yes."
"Baby was in your tummy, then Mommy and Daddy picked her up from the hospital?"
"Yes..." *This is when I figured it out!!
"Mommy and Daddy picked me up from Guatemala?"
"Yeesss..."
"Baby was in your tummy when Mommy and Daddy got on a plane and picked me up from my house at Guatemala?"
"Yes..."
Then there was a pause in the questioning. He looked at me with pleading eyes, as if to say "OK...I've got something going on in my brain but I can't figure out how to ask it."
So... I gave him a little help and said, "And you want to know when you were in Mommy's tummy?"
"YEAH!" he exclaimed, looking at me as if I had just read his mind.
"You didn't grow in Mommy's tummy. You grew in another lady's tummy until you were big enough to come out. Then Mommy and Daddy ("and Baby in your tummy" he interjected, predicting what I was about to say.) flew down to pick you up in Guatemala. We brought you back to live with us and be our little boy forever. Mommy and Daddy love you very much, and you will live with us forever."
"Yeah. OK!" he said. "Where are we going after nap?"
I laughed and knew I must have satisfied his curiosity because he was on to the next topic. I'm not sure that I answered his question in the way that I should have or the way that the experts suggest, but I did the best I could. Our goal is to be as open and honest with him as possible, but I also don't want to give too much information at such a young age. He now wants to watch a movie on Guatemala, so I am actively searching for him. This new baby has peaked his curiosity in adoption in ways that I never could have imagined. While I am thankful for the opportunity to talk with him about it, I am also nervous that I will say something wrong.

Kids Say the Funniest Things

Baby and Bubba have recently become very interested in boy and girl things. During commercials I always hear "Is that for girls?" or "That's not for boys!". They have started asking questions about what girls/boys have that the other may not, what boys/girls play with that the other should not, and what colors mean boy or girl. Bubba is also beginning to realize that certain names almost always indicate the gender of the person (ex: Emily = girl; Bob = boy), while Baby has focused on things that Mommies have/do that others do not.

This new-found interest has made Bubba and Baby pay close attention to strangers in public and has brought up many interesting conversations, thought-provoking questions, and publicly embarrassing comments. On our recent plane ride to Flagstaff, our children made the following comments to COMPLETE strangers:

- (To the man sitting next to me on the plane) "Hi! I'm Baby! When I was a baby I ate from my Mommy's boobies. What's your name?"

- (Bubba to Evander sitting down on the plane) "Daddy, that lady is REAL big!"

- (To the girl sitting next to me on plane home) "Oh... your toe nails are green! Can I get green toes?"

- (Bubba in airport) "Hey Mommy, boys don't wear earrings?" "No, boys don't wear earrings." "That man has earrings! (Pointing to an extremely large man) That man has 2 earrings! Why does he have earrings? Is he a girl?"

There have been many more comments made, but I won't continue. All I can say is thank goodness I'm not easily embarrassed!

Screaming Bubba

Our weekend was pretty much the same as usual. We ran some errands, went to the pool, folded laundry and just hung around the house. The only difference was in Bubba's nose. He awoke Friday with a funky nose. If you have children, you know what I mean! I knew what was ahead but I tried to blow it off. After all, I had just been to the pediatrician 5 days earlier and the pediatric ENT the day before.
On Saturday, the whole family ventured out to Target for a few forgotten items. While in the store, Bubba began hitting Baby in the cart. Baby sweetly said "Be nice, Bubba. Don't hit me!" But that didn't stop him. When Evander and I spoke to him, it didn't stop. So...I decided to remove him from the buggy and make him walk and hold my hand. Seconds after grabbing onto his tiny brown hand, he went limp and began screaming "DADDY!! DADDY!!" Evander was literally right beside us, but Bubba didn't care. He was screaming so loudly, I knew we had to leave the store.
So... 7 months pregnant me (if you haven't seen me lately, I'm much bigger than I was with Baby) proceeds to drag screaming-limp Bubba through the isles of Target and out the glass doors. All the while Bubba is screaming "Daddy! HELP! DADDY!! NNNOOO!!" Strangers are glancing in my direction, probably wondering if he is being abducted or just terrible! I rush him to the car, where he refuses to get in. Still screaming, I lift him into the car and hold him down with my elbow, so I can buckle the seat. I quickly slam and lock the door and hop into the passenger seat.
After throwing my head back into the seat rest, taking a gulp of water, and sighing deeply, I began to talk to him (more of a scream since he was still screaming). Soon I saw Evander and Baby bopping out of the store and silently thanked God. "What is HIS deal? One of these days someone is going to stop us or call the police!" Evander said as he slid into the car. I knew exactly what the problem was. Gauging from the recent outburst, I immediately diagnosed his funky nose as ear and sinus infection. These days, the only time Bubba acts like that anymore is when he is sick, and when he is sick, he usually has an ear and/or sinus infection.
As the pediatrician entered the room this morning, she said "What's going on with Bubba today?" and I said "He has a sinus infection and maybe an ear infection." After confirming our diagnosis, we left the doctor's office with an antibiotic prescription, 2 suckers, and countless germs that haven't popped up yet! Now we are trying to get Bubba feeling well before we fly on Wednesday morning. Keep your fingers crossed!

Little Swimmer

In the past, Bubba has had many issues with the beginning of "pool season". He doesn't like to get his hair or face wet. He doesn't like water to get in his ears. The water is usually too cold or too hot. With this in mind, I decided to sign him up for swimming lessons at Emler Swim School (http://www.iswimemler.com/).

So...for two weeks (every single day) at the first of June Bubba had a 30 minute swimming lesson. I know it sounds intense, but he does better when you totally immerse (no pun intended) in it. Now, this same little hesitant boy is running and jumping in the pool with no one to catch him. He often looks like a duck bobbing in the water and suddenly throwing his face under the water. Thanks to swimming lessons, he has 8 second breath control (meaning he can hold his breath under water for 8 seconds) and is beginning to swim like a fish. He is so comfortable in the pool, he has begun to ask for his swimmies to be removed.

Since we had such success, we have signed Bubba up for advanced swimming lessons (at his level...nothing crazy), which will be once a week for the rest of the summer. We don't want him to lose his enthusiasm and comfortability (is that even a word?) with the water. YEAH BUBBA!!

Lilly is also taking swimming lessons once a week, but she has never been uncomfortable with the water. If anything, she is now OVER confident, which is scary!

Rain, Rain, Go Away

We awoke this morning to cloudy skies, and the questioning immediately began. "Is it still dark?" "Is it cloudy?" "Is it going to rain?" Bubba has a terrible fear of the rain, and I don't mean severe weather. I mean rain... tiny water droplets that fall from the sky. He doesn't have to hear the low rumblings of thunder or see lightning streak across the sky. He is afraid of rain! Now... the anxiety worsens with thunder and lightning, but it begins with the water falling.
Our day was a little rocky, but it wasn't so bad. And, other than the constant questioning about the cloudy skies, I had put the possibility of rain out of my mind. It wasn't until we were eating dinner with Mama Bird and Mela-mela that I began to notice a change in the skies. Bubba, on the other hand, had been watching the skies from the windows and immediately sensed the change. "It's going to rain!" he said.
"Oh, it's fine! Now turn around and eat." I said.
"It's going to rain!" he insisted.
"It might rain but we will be ok!" I reassured. I tried to entice Bubba to eat his dinner, but I knew it was useless. Once he saw that rain was on the horizon, all else was out the window. On the way out to the car, I noticed how dark it had gotten and how gloomy the clouds looked but I was still reassuring Bubba that we would be fine. We hopped into the car and headed home. I was just hoping we would make it home in time for me to take the dogs out before it started raining. Bubba, on the other hand, was hoping for no rain ever!
That is when I heard it, and he did too. The tornado sirens began going off as we headed for home. Oh crap!! "What IS that, Mommy?" he asked.
"Just a siren baby!" I said.
"What IS that siren for, Mommy?" he continued.
"It's just a bad weather siren... no big deal." I insisted.
"NO, Mommy...it's a tornado siren. A tornado is here!!" he urged.
"First of all... how do you know that is a tornado siren? Second... how do you know the word tornado?"
"A tornado is bad, bad weather, Mommy" he said.
"It's ok, Bubba! We will be ok. Mommy will keep you safe. That's what I'm here for" I reassured.
When we entered the garage, I explained that we were having bad weather, so the dogs needed to stay in their crates, and we needed to sit in the bathroom for a little while. I rushed them out of the car and into the hall bathroom. Then I ran out of the bathroom for pillows and the portable DVD player. When I returned, only seconds later, Bubba had used the potty all over himself.
"What happened baby? You are standing right next to the potty!" I asked.
"You left" he whispered.
"Ok... no big deal. Let's get you cleaned up!"
After cleaning him up, I quickly threw the pee clothes into the laundry room and checked the news for a weather update. It was headed right over us, so I ran back to the bathroom and pulled up the radar on my iPhone (thank heaven and Evander for this phone). We managed to ride out the severe weather with my children camped out in the bathtub watching a movie, dogs in their crates (amazingly quiet) and me sitting on the tile floor watching a 2 inch version of radar.
During all of this my mother and Evander called to check on us (thank you for calling). I also called Mama Bird to make sure she made it home ok. I knew Mela-mela would have made it because she lives very close and I followed her almost all the way (until turning into our neighborhood). Bubba's fears continue to amaze me. In so many instances, he is fearless. He hasn't a care in the world and throws caution into the wind. However, when it comes to rain and social situations, he becomes a different child and experiences anxiety and fear so intense it alarms me. I suppose it is just like everything else with him. It is all or nothing! There is no middle ground, no moderate response.
*It just hit me, too, where he learned about the tornado siren and a tornado... ppcd. I'm sure they had a severe weather drill at some point when he was at school.*

School's Out for Summer

"Am I going to kindergarten now?" was one of the first questions I heard this morning. "Did you say kindergarten?" I asked. "Yeah," Bubba replied. "Well...not right now. You have to be five to go," I answered. "And I'm three now?" he wondered. "Yes" And that was it. We started this year not wanting to go to school at all, and, now that he is done for the year, he is ready to continue on (and skip a few years).
Wednesday was Bubba's last day of PPCD, and I am relieved. We finally have that and those teachers behind us. I was told that he would be spending the day outside and having a Popsicle for snack, but when I asked Bubba what they did he said that he didn't know. When I asked if he had a Popsicle he said "No! I want a Popsicle!" UUGGHH!! Why would his teachers have told me Popsicles if there were no Popsicles?
Next year, Bubba will be going to PPCD at the new Early Childhood Center very close to our house. It is a very nice building with lots of tiny playgrounds, just perfect for their ages. I have asked his teachers to provide some specifics for the new year and new school, but they can't seem to come up with any, so I suppose we will wait and see what happens. Bubba will, I believe, be riding the bus one way (either home from school if he is in the morning session or to school if he is in the afternoon session). I thought this would provide him a little independence, and it would help me out with the new baby. We will have to wait and see, though, how it actually works out.
With summer ahead, Bubba is off on new adventures. He will begin swimming lessons next week and has a trip to Flagstaff, Arizona in the near future. He is currently doing very well, sleeping through the night and talking more. I just hope we keep it up!

Alabama bound

I awoke Friday morning at 5:00 on the dot. I tried to roll over and go back to sleep, but my bladder would have nothing of it. We had to be up and ready soon anyway, so I figured I might as well start getting ready for the day. As I began to put lotion on my leg, I noticed it. About three inches directly below my knee was what appeared to be a small slug that had crawled underneath my skin and set up shop. It was surrounded by at least a dozen tiny purple worms. In reality, it was part of a vein bulging out from under my skin, and there were purple squiggly lines all around it. Great! Just great! We are leaving for the airport in an hour and I now have a worm in my leg.

This is how our trip to Alabama began, so I knew it was going to be an interesting one. Boy, was it interesting! The kids were wonderful on the plane and in the airport. They were so excited to see Mimi that they couldn't stand it. We all made it safely home (after losing my dad in the airport), and the kids dug out every toy they could find. My mom had bought each of them a new swim suit, towel, and flip flops, so they had to model.

Saturday started out with a bang. While playing in the drive way, a policeman and family friend pulled in.

He stuck out his head and said, "Everything ok?"

"Oh yes!" my mom said.

"Somebody dial 911?" he continued.

"Oh...did that go out?" my mom asked.

"Yes, it went out! Was it Obie?" the policeman asked.

"No...it was the kids this time!"

What my mom didn't know was that the last time we were at her house (when my dad was in the hospital in January) Bubba called 911, and they had called back to check on us.

What I didn't know was that my dad had dialed 911 only a week earlier and someone came to check on them. So... this was the third 911 call from my parents house!
Saturday evening Bubba, Baby, my mom, my sister, and I went to my 2nd cousin's wedding. It had rained for days, so the outside event wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Located in someone's backyard, we crossed the swamplands on our tiptoes, trying not to get mud on our toes or in our sandals. The kids were doing great (all things considered)! Just as everyone stood in silence for the bride to walk down the aisle Bubba screams, "POTTY!! POTTY!" I immediately motion for my mom to take him because I knew Baby would start screaming if I left her, but it didn't work. Baby instead started screaming for my mother, so I ushered her out directly behind my mom and my squirming little boy. We looked as if we just realized (after seeing the bride) we were at the wrong tent wedding held in the pouring rain and were trying to make a quick exit. Immediately I begin scanning for a restroom and see a porta-potty. I try to discreetly tell my mom that he won't use a porta-potty because it is too nasty and smelly. Because of his sensitivity to smell, he would vomit before using the restroom. So... my son pees behind a pick-up truck at my cousin's wedding. Can you tell I'm from Alabama yet?

Sunday was no less eventful. We jumped up Sunday morning in time to make it to river church, again in the pouring rain. (If you don't know what river church is, I will need to explain in person). We start out on the boat, but the rain starts to blow so we ran under the pavilion just before it began. After church we met the rest of my family at the marina for breakfast.

After naps, the weather had started to clear, so we took the kids outside to play. Bubba was riding his tricycle up and down the long drive as Baby pushed a tractor. Just as she got to the end of the drive, she hesitated, then continued into the road. I began to quickly walk down the drive and yelled at her to get out of the road. Once safely in, I talked to her about going in the road and Evander drew a line in the drive that they shouldn't cross. I didn't think of it again, because this has never been a problem for Baby before. Not long after sitting back down, I see Baby cross the forbidden pink line and immediately jump up.

When I realize that she isn't stopping I began to jog down the drive yelling her name. My mom and Evander are also yelling for her to stop and come back. Then I see it... a gray SUV topped the hill and was heading straight for Baby. I, then, begin screaming frantically and took off down the drive. My mom said she never saw the car because she was focused on Baby, but I saw it coming right for her and she wasn't moving. They didn't see her because they were talking to one another and now she and the big yellow tractor were in the middle of the road, but I was still too far to reach her. Immediately thoughts flash through my mind. Are they going to hit my baby?

Finally they notice me, a pregnant woman hauling ass down the drive way, and begin to slow, but they still didn't see Baby. She was bent over, and I really don't think they could see her over their hood. I determined that the car and I would reach her at the same time, so it was anyone's game. Just at that moment, Baby stood up, saw the car, and took two steps into the driveway. I was right... the car and I did reach her at the same time. They slammed on their brakes, and I scooped her up. All I could do was cry. I held her in my arms and sobbed. Two seconds later and she would have been killed, or we both would have been injured. I really wasn't thinking of it at the time, but I would have jumped into that road for her.

We all made it safely home, and I watched as my little slug became a giant earthworm with purple knots. After getting everyone settled, I called the doctor yesterday and they told me to come in immediately. Once the doctor examined me, she determined that I needed to have a Doppler done of my leg to determine if I had blood clots. Thankfully, I am OK! We are all back at home, snug in our beds, waiting for what will happen next.

My Babies

I took these photos the other day, not realizing what I was capturing with the push of a button. My babies have been transformed into children. There are no more chubby cheeks or baby faces. Their little bellies have flattened out and their expressions are so "grown-up". As I downloaded these photos, I sat and stared in disbelief. Where did my babies go and when did they become little kids?

One of Those Days

Bubba is having one of those days, the kind of day where it seems as if he just woke up from a long sleep. I love these days! On these days I get to know the real Bubba and see his real personality. On these days I am reminded just how smart he is and how sweet he can be. On these days anything can happen.
Each day after school, I wait for Bubba to come out the front doors. His head and shoulders are usually slumped, and I have to get his attention for him to even know I'm around. Today, though, he ran up to me, arms open wide and a big smile on his face. That is when I knew it was a good day. Our usual walk to the car is filled with my questions and his non-answers but not today. Today HE asked me the questions.
"So...," he began, "What did you and Baby do today while I was at school?". Totally stunned by his very verbal question, I was the one left stumbling over my words and barely answering (we went to the store). " You mean the grocery store? What did you get at the grocery store?". I was hardly able to answer before he continued, "Did you bring my lunch with you today?" Yes! "What did you put in my lunch today?" This went on as he and Baby held their own conversation in the backseat all the way home.
Once home I said "Bubba I really like the way you are using your words today". He replied with "Yes and I used my words at school today too!" Still in complete shock, I turned on the oven to heat up some lunch and was met with another question. "What are you having for lunch Mommy?"
"Pizza"
"What kind of pizza?"
"Oh, just frozen pizza" (the child has hardly EVER noticed that I eat something different from them every single day)
"Oh.. when I was a baby I used to eat frozen pizza but then I had Pizza Hut pizza for lunch one day and it made me sick. So I don't eat frozen pizza anymore."
"Well, thank you for letting me know!" I uttered as I picked my jaw up off the floor.
That's the thing with Aspergers...you never know what you are going to get. One day could be the worst day of your life and the next could be a gift from God. And to think, I thought yesterday was good because he finally ate a pb and j without complaint!

The Talk

When many parents are asked if they have had "The Talk", they might assume you mean the infamous birds and bees discussion. When we get asked this question, however, it means adoption. I believe, in a person's mind who knows nothing of adoption, Evander and I should sit Bubba down and say "Well son... you were adopted." This, in their minds, would be the end of discussion. We would have, after all, informed Bubba that he was adopted and that should be it, but it isn't. In our house, we have decided to be very open about the topic, and it is really starting to click.

I think, if I weren't pregnant, we would be getting these questions much later, but Bubba is very curious about what is going on with the baby. It began with a simple "You got a baby in your belly?" Now it has grown into "Where'd you get that baby?" "Lilly was born in a hospital. I was born in a hospital?" "Do we have a Guatemala movie?" I have been very honest with Bubba about answering all of his questions but it is difficult to know just how much information to provide to a 3-year-old. For instance, he knows that Lilly was in my belly, but he hasn't asked if he was.

I have started to read Over the Moon by Karen Katz to him as if it were his story. I have begun to insert his name, where possible, and change it around a bit to fit his story. We have told him that he was born at home in Guatemala and mommy and daddy came to get him. We explained that we got the baby from God, just as God made he and Lilly (although I think he was referring to an actual place like Guatemala), and I think I am prepared for the "in my belly" question. I don't think he's ready to hear the whole birth mom scenario, but we will see. I don't want to hide anything from him, but I also don't want to keep anything from him either.

Adoption isn't a 5-minute conversation over tea and cookies. Bubba doesn't even know the word adoption. It is a lifetime of questions, comments, conversations, and memories shared. It is being honest, sometimes to a fault, and loving endlessly. While 3-years-old may be too young to share his birth mother, I know that one day I will have to pull out the photos and information. I will have to share everything I know, no matter how difficult it may be (for us or him). Until then, I will keep reading his story.

* The photo is of Bubba and his foster mother after having his DNA taken and seeing his birth mother for the last time.

Joint Attention

Yesterday morning my good friend, Guat Momma, sent me a link to a CNN story titled "Toddler Brain Difference Linked to Autism". The article discusses a study that found a certain portion of the brain is larger in children with autism. This portion of the brain, the amygdala, is responsible for helping us process faces and emotions, also known as joint attention.
From early on we knew that Bubba had problems with joint attention. Most babies smile back when you smile at them. Most toddlers can follow an adults gaze to find the bird the adult is pointing at, and most children learn early on when mommy or daddy is happy or mad. Bubba, however, never did and still doesn't do those things. I remember standing at our den windows pointing out the birds in our yard and Bubba could never find them. I remember Evander appearing so excited that a fire truck had passed, and Bubba had no response. I have even blogged about Bubba not understanding when I am angry or happy and thinking I was trying to hurt him when I was simply walking across the room. Those are just a few of the many examples I will give, but there are countless times when this has happened.
So... yesterday was no exception to this rule. After reading this article, we headed off to gymnastics. Bubba's class used to consist of two children, him and a little girl, but it has grown to a class of five. This growth has been difficult for Bubba to handle, in general, but we have a greater issue at hand. One new child is a little boy who was recently adopted from China. He understands NO English, so he is unable to follow the directions. I believe he was only placed in the class so the mom could watch her older child and not have to "deal" with him. Nonetheless, he roams aimlessly around while the other children are trying to stay on task. This week, he began touching Bubba.
He would follow him around and just touch him, on the arm or back. We all know that Bubba isn't one for touching, so Bubba is immediately upset. Last week he cried half-way through the class because this little boy kept touching him, but we had a talk, and I hoped that this week would be better. Unfortunately, when they were sitting in line waiting their turn, the little boy scratched Bubba on the back of the neck. At this point, Bubba lost it and immediately shut down. The teacher handled the situation and I told Bubba to stay clear of him, but it was no use. Bubba could no longer focus on class. Bubba, the boy who already thinks everyone is out to get him, went on the defensive. He would only focus on the little boy, watching his every move. He wanted to make sure that he wouldn't be touched again, and it broke my heart.
He was doing so well at gymnastics, and now it was ruined. I plan to speak with his teacher next week and possibly change class times because I know he will never focus again, as long as that little boy is in there. No matter how old Bubba gets, I believe we will always struggle with joint attention. Whether it is finding a friend among the foes or correctly reading a person's facial expressions. Whether his amygdala is larger or not, this issue is present and very real!

Jumbled Mess

This post isn't like the usual post. It is, instead, a jumbled mess of what is going on at our house.
The psychiatrist increased Bubba's dosage again, and he seems to have made great strides with it. It is almost like he wakes up, every now and then, and notices what is around him. He has been asking questions like never before. He wanted to know where we bought Lambie, and where Mimi lives. He asked about our chimney and Santa Claus. It has been amazing to watch.
Now, Bubba has croup, an ear infection, and a sinus infection. I'm expecting to have to return to the ENT for a discussion about tubes again, but we will see.
Baby has submerged deeply into the terrible twos. I'm not sure if she will ever return!! Seriously, though, she has decided to assert her independence like never before, and she doesn't take no for an answer. She is the girliest 2-year-old I have ever seen.
We got a swing set at our house (thank you Mimi), and it has been like heaven. The kids have been outside every chance they get swinging, sliding, and playing. They LOVE it, and so do I! It gives me a chance to sit down.
This post is kindof how my thoughts and life have been lately, so that is really the only way I knew to post. We have been everywhere, doing a little bit of everything.

All Clear

"You're going to the doctor, Baby" Bubba said to Baby as she passed by. Baby ran to me and said "I going doctor, Mommy?" I had decided not to tell Baby she had a doctor's appointment until we were almost there because I knew she wouldn't be happy. Ever since she was in the hospital, she has been a little afraid of doctors, and who can blame her? "Yes...we are going to the doctor but no boo boos" I reassured her. Still puzzled by how Bubba even knew she was going to the doctor, I scurried around trying to get everything ready.
Finally, after over 1 1/2 hours of hearing Baby whine about the doctor in the car, we arrived at Cook Children's Hospital. We had just minutes to spare, so I snapped a quick photo of my parking spot (so I would remember where I parked), and rushed inside. Through the myriad of signs, arrows, elevators, and sky walks we found our destination ... pediatric neurology and neurosurgery. We were quickly called back, but experience told me that meant nothing.
Forty five minutes after we sat down in our room, the doctor waltzed in. Don't get me wrong, I really like him, but he is a pediatric neurosurgeon. He is a bit cocky, slightly quirky, and just a smidge awkward. Baby immediately furrowed her eyebrows, stared straight into his eyes and said, "I don't want to do that!" "What?" I said. "I don't want to do THAT!" she exclaimed, still staring sternly at the doctor. "What? You don't want to do what?" I questioned. He laughed and said, "Anything I want her to do!" And with that, she turned away and began to pout.
We talked about any symptoms she was having related to the possible hydrocephalus or tethered spinal cord (which are none) and symptoms that we should still watch for. He, then, went on to explain that he believes her large brain ventricles and sacral dimple is just who she is. It is how she developed and is really a fluke. He does not believe there is anything to worry about and gave her the all clear. He does want us to follow-up in a year with an MRI and appointment (which we will probably have to do for a few years), just to be certain. I also asked about the baby (if there was anything we should be concerned about or I should be tested for in regards to all this), and he said that he thought there was no reason for it.
I was SO glad to hear all of this. While I didn't think about it every day, it was always in the back of my mind and probably always will be. I would jump everytime she bumped her head or question why she was walking on her tippy toes. I immediately became concerned if she said anything in her back or legs hurt and would run to her anytime her head was involved. Hopefully now, I can relax a little and know that her leg hurts because she fell earlier in the day or the bruise on her head is from her brother hitting her. No worries, at least for the moment!

I Found It!

After months of searching, I finally found it. What is it? GFCF bread that will actually toast. Yes...it's true. Kinnicknicks (spelling might be wrong but I don't want to go look it up) white sandwich bread is GFCF and it will toast. Now, it does take longer than the average slice of bread, but it will eventually turn brown. YEAH!

NOTE #1: Baby's follow-up appointment with the neurosurgeon is Wednesday, so I will post and let everyone know how that went.

NOTE #2: I, in no way, meant to offend anyone by answering the questions at the bottom of my pregnancy post. There are many people who read the blog that I don't talk to on a regular basis. Because of this, I knew they would have the same questions that others have had. I don't mind questions at all. I would rather you ask, than assume you know the answer! LOL!

The Third Gregory

In July of 2006, Evander and I went to visit Bubba in Guatemala. Evander's parents joined us for a week. Then, Evander and his parents left, but I stayed and my mother and aunt came to visit. The first week wasn't so bad, but I was exhausted. I put it off on the travel and the sleepless baby, but by the second week everything was changing. I would wake up starving, but when I met my mom for breakfast, it was all I could do to eat one croissant. Since I threw caution into the wind when eating in Guatemala, I assumed it must have been something I ate (even though it only happened EVERY SINGLE morning). Next, I began to smell the water. Yes...the water smelled horrible. I kept asking my mother "Do you think it's ok to bathe Bubba in this? It smells terrible!" She never smelled anything! Then, I became exhausted. My mom and aunt let me take a nap almost every day because I couldn't keep my eyes open. I decided I must be coming down with Mono, again.

Back at home, without a baby demanding my attention, I began to notice a pattern. I had every possible classic pregnancy symptom in the book, and my doctor confirmed that I was 5 weeks pregnant. I was certain that, if I ever got pregnant again, I would know. Well... I was wrong! I am now 15 weeks pregnant and have only known for one week. Looking back I think I can see some of the symptoms but I was just too busy to pay attention.

For two weeks of this pregnancy I was at the hospital with my dad. I now realize I was eating an awful lot of food, but oh well. I came home from those trips exhausted, but who wouldn't be? Then, Baby got sick, so I slept on her floor for 2 weeks, waking up every 3 hours to give her breathing treatments. Exhausted was an understatement. I also started gaining weight, but that had been my goal since before Christmas, so I thought all of my working out was starting to pay off. I had also been eating like crazy. I knew something was up, though, when 3 things happened.

First, I went to get the ground turkey out of the fridge and almost lost my lunch. The thought of touching raw turkey...I can't even continue the sentence. With Baby, it was pork. I couldn't even think about it or it would make me sick. Second, I smelled the dishwasher detergent INSIDE the dishwasher and the laundry detergent INSIDE the washer, all in the same day. Third, I woke up one morning with a pouch. I am not joking! I went to bed with a flat stomach and woke up with a speed bump. With that, I went for the pregnancy test.

I will now take a moment to answer many of the questions I have been asked:

• Yes, I will have to get a new car. Unless you would like to be responsible for suggesting that Bubba or Baby be the one to sit right next to the newborn.


• No, we are not moving. We will convert the office into a nursery and deal with it for at least another year. Bubba cannot handle having new sheets, much less a new baby and new house in one swoop.


• Yes, this was somewhat planned. Evander and I had been trying, but after my dad was so sick, we decided to hold off (but it was too late).


• Yes, the kids know. Yes, Bubba gets it. He tells everyone about the baby in my belly.


• Yes, we know things will be hectic and probably crazy, but that is how we like it. What would our house be without a little insanity every now and then?


• Yes, we are aware that our children are close in age. That is how we wanted it.


• I will find out at 20 weeks (5 wks from now) what the sex of the baby is. The perinatologist believes it is a girl (from the early ultrasound).

Surgery Cancelled

The Monday that Baby was released from the hospital, Bubba was at the pediatrician's office. He had an ear infection and RSV, which he contracted while on antibiotics for a previous infection. The pediatrician opted to give him an injection (which would also ward off pneumonia) and a prescription for the strongest oral antibiotic available. Since then, Bubba has been completely healthy.
Today we had our pre-op appointment with the pediatric ENT. I immediately told her of Bubba's new-found health, and she was elated. She suggested that we hold off on the surgery to see if his sinus infections and ear infections came back. Her hope is that, this time of year, he will stay well, and we can hold off on surgery for another year. YEAH!!
We don't want to have any unnecessary procedures performed, and we certainly don't want to put Bubba through the pain and agony of sinus surgery if we don't have too. Hope fully, by next fall, his little body will have matured and grown a bit, so surgery will be unnecessary.

A Tribute to Lambie

Born in Edison, New Jersey, Lambie traveled to a children's boutique in Clanton, Alabama. It is here that his life truly began. It is here that a small Guatemalan boy chose him out of a basket of stuffed animals. No one had any idea the impact that Lambie would make at the time, but it would soon be revealed.

Bubba was only home a few months when we traveled to Clanton for my dad's birthday. My mother and I ran in a little children's shop, hoping to find a Christmas outfit. Bubba was mesmerized by the stuffed animals that had been lazily thrown in a basket on the floor, so I put him down to see them. Barely able to sit up, Bubba swayed in circles and stared into the basket. Then, he pulled a floppy white lamb from the pile. With that, he was done and wanted back in my arms. Mimi (my mom) had no idea what she was purchasing at the time she purchased that lamb, and neither did I.

That lamb, named Lambie, has become a part of our family, and he has helped Bubba in ways that I never would have guessed. Lambie travels EVERYWHERE with Bubba. He has seen the inside of various preschools and playgrounds, been kicked around the floor of different doctors offices, and even participated in occupational therapy. Lambie has flown countless hours and should hold his own frequent flyer card. He has been from Arizona to Alabama, from Las Vegas to Dallas. He eats every meal and snack with us and watches as our bedtime routine is performed. Whether he is securely tucked in the back pocket of Evander's jeans or peaking out from Bubba's shirt (his body inside the shirt, but his head pokes out just under Bubba's chin), he will always be there.

Lambie has given Bubba strength and confidence in the most difficult situations. He is Bubba's best friend and confidant. He holds Bubba's hand when no one can and sees him through hard times when no one is around. He helps Bubba tackle challenges that he may not otherwise. He hangs in Bubba's shirt during anxious school hours and is clutched around the throat in public situations. He very rarely gets to rest, but he doesn't mind. He is there, no matter what.

Although he is now dingy and stained, with a small hole in his knee, I truly believe that Lambie has helped with Bubba's recovery. He is Bubba's security blanket and provides him strength to sleep alone and attend school. He is able to comfort Bubba when we cannot, and I thank him for that. Thank you, Lambie, for all you have done!

Reality Check

Our visit to the psychiatrist's office always begins in the same way. She asks questions that she already knows the answers to (example: medication dosage, age, etc). Then she continues with more of the same: How is he doing? Have you noticed any new behaviors? How is the aggression? How is the OCD? How is his attention span? How is his sleep? I could go on and on, but I will spare you. Once the Q and A is over, I am left to pull out my little sheet of paper with my own list of questions, things that I have wondered about or noticed over the past month.

This week I started off with his "pretend play". I explained that Bubba loves kitty cats and garbage trucks, and there are times that he pretends to be either a cat or a garbage truck. That is all well and good...except for the fact that it is very bizarre. This pretend play is not typical 3-year-old pretend play. He becomes so immersed in what he "is" that there is no reaching him. For example, as a cat, he crawls around on all fours, licking, meowing, and scratching things. When his name is called, he gives no response. He is lost in a cat's world. As a garbage truck he goes around the house revving his engine, picking up things (anything breakable or not), and throwing them over his back (as a garbage truck picks up a garbage can). He scrapes imaginary things off the walls and throws it over as well. When he is headed down the hallway, you better lookout because he WILL run you over. He has no idea that others are around.

The psychiatrist simply looked at me, smiled, and matter-of-factly said "Yes, that's part of the Aspergers". Then I continued with something I was much more concerned about. When I or Evander "come at" Bubba in a forceful way (not threatening but walking briskly and making eye contact), he cowers. Now that he talks, he will often say "Don't hit me" or "Don't push me". I immediately say "I would never do that Bubba", but it doesn't seem to sink in. Once I was cutting vegetables and turned around with the knife in my hand. He got this horrible look on his face and screamed, "Don't cut me Mommy! Don't cut me!" I have, of course, been thinking horrible thoughts. What could have happened to him in foster care? Was he abused before he came into our family? Is someone hurting him at school? I have also been thinking about what he might tell others. What if he tells his teachers that I tried to cut him? What if a stranger hears him say this?

The psychiatrist simply looked at me, smiled, and matter-of-factly said "Yes, that's part of the Aspergers". She went on to explain that Bubba has a distorted perception of reality. The way he sees things are not always the way things are. She said that, to him, eye contact is threatening. He sees eye contact as an act of aggression, so these thoughts are the first to come to his mind. Then she hit me with a sobering thought. "He only says these things at home because he is comfortable there, but he feels this way everywhere, with everyone." I felt like crying! Do you know how many times a day you make eye contact with a person? How many times a day does someone try to make eye contact with Bubba? No wonder he is anxious in social situations. No wonder he has problems with aggression. He thinks everyone is trying to hurt him.

Since then, I have been randomly stopping Bubba and asking to see his eyes. I then ask him "Does Mommy look mad? Does mommy look happy?" After he answers, I say "Sometimes Mommy likes to see your eyes, but mommy would never hurt you." The psychiatrist said that we need to start exercises like this, even though he is too young to understand, because one day he will. He needs to know that eye contact is not hurtful or mean.

We always go to the psychiatrist and start the same ole way. The questions are repetitive and ridiculous. We never end in the same way, though. I always leave feeling terrible for Bubba. She manages to give me a reality check once a month that puts everything back into perspective. I wish there was a manual explaining every possible symptom or behavior that Bubba may have. I really do want the information she gives, but I hate learning about it in that manner. Just give me all the info I need up front, so there is no confusion. If I understood the gravity of all the situations Bubba was in, I feel like I could help a lot more.

Gregory Preschool Institute of Learning

Go ahead... call me a dork. I know what you are thinking...especially Momma Bird. I can hear it now. I decided over the weekend that, if Bubba and Baby can't go to school, I will bring school to them. My degree is in education, after all, and I do know a few things about teaching. So... welcome to the Gregory Preschool Institute of Learning. Ha!

On Friday, I went to Bubba and Baby's parent/teacher conferences and got a wealth of information. I found out that Baby doesn't talk (WHAT?) to her teachers, so they did not know if she could count, say the alphabet, or name her colors. After informing them that she knows all of the above, I immediately became concerned. Since when does Baby not talk to someone? She never stops talking. She talks to strangers in the grocery store, nurses in the hospital, and bugs on the sidewalk. I worried that she must have been uncomfortable at school for some reason, and then I got mad. Why had no one informed me of this? Why hadn't anyone said "Look, your kid doesn't say a word? What's the deal?" Instead, they explained that they knew she could talk because she talks to Bubba on the playground, so they weren't concerned. Not good enough!

Next I went over to Bubba's classroom where I found more interesting information. Bubba knows every shape known to man-kind (octagon, decagon, heptagon, etc), but he cannot identify any letter in the alphabet. He does, however, know the SOUND of every letter in the alphabet. Interesting! Typically, a child learns the letter name and then the sound, but my child has done the reverse. In a strange way, this is exciting because the letter sound is a higher level skill, so I know the letter name will come. Nonetheless, we have some work to do.

This was the beginning of my idea. I immediately knew that I needed to work with Bubba everyday to learn his letters, and I knew it wouldn't hurt Baby to hear it either. I sat down with a piece of paper and made a small schedule, two hours of circle time, math, science, letters, reading, art, sensory, and snack. Next, I went to my rubbermaid bins of teaching supplies and dug out everything that I could use (sentence strips, construction paper, glue sticks, calendar, art book, etc).

Today was our first day of school, and I must say it went pretty well. Bubba is amazingly different when in a "learning environment". I know it sounds strange because we were still at home, but he had a different objective. I think he really enjoys learning, and you could see it on his face. He was engaged and interested. He followed directions and listened to what I was saying. He sat still while I read and helped to put away his things when we were done. This is just the first day, so we will see how it goes, but it looks promising. Maybe I can at least mold two young minds!

Never a dull moment

Thursday started with a bang. Baby was up wandering around most of the night, unable to sleep because of difficulty breathing and fever. Then I had a horrible dream that my children were kidnapped by my mother's daughter while at gymnastics, and I couldn't go back to sleep. Just as I started to dose off, Bubba barged in the room. I'm not exactly sure of the time, but I think it was around 5:00 am. I decided to give up on sleeping and hop in the shower.

Now, my family will tell you that I have never been a fan of showering. That might sound disgusting, but it's true. Before Bubba, I always took a shower every other day. Every day is just absurd and a waste of time! Now that Bubba is here, though, I cannot shower if another adult is not in the house. The reason for this is because he may hurt himself, Baby, or the dogs. He may also wander outside alone (it has happened before). He just cannot be trusted, so I always shower when Evander is home. Thursday, however, was a different story.

Since Evander hadn't been home since Monday, I hadn't showered since Monday afternoon (after getting home from the hospital, where I also hadn't showered. I have a thing about public, or in this case semi-public, restrooms, but that is another post). I decided I had to do it. After all, what could happen? Bubba was watching TV, and Baby was still sleeping. I wedged a chair under the back door and made sure the "extra-high" locks were secure before committing to my shower. I turned the water on and peeked in on him. Nothing. I got my clothes and towel out and peeked in on him. Nothing. I started to step into the shower, but I peeked in on him. Nothing.

Just as I was stepping out of the shower (5 minutes later), I heard a lot of commotion and noticed that the bedroom light was on (and I hadn't turned it on). I burst through the bathroom doors to find that Bubba had moved the nightstand from beside the bed and pushed it up against the dresser. He was standing on top of the nightstand, holding fist fulls of jewelry. Baby was beneath him covered in necklaces, bracelets, and attempting to change her earrings. Bubba was wearing Evander's college ring and my pearls.

After cleaning up and removing the bling, Bubba was headed to school and Baby was headed for a chest x-ray. Bubba arrived at school fashionably late, as usual, and we were off. When we saw the pediatrician, she finally had good news for us. Baby's lungs are clearing, and we can begin to ease off the breathing treatments. She wants us to continue the antibiotics and breathing treatments for a month. She also wants us to pull Baby and Bubba out of preschool. The doctor explained that Baby's immune system has been compromised and, until she is fully well, she will continue to "catch" everything around her. So...after much discussion, Evander and I have decided to do the following:

• Reschedule Baby's b'day party for March 28


• Reschedule Bubba's surgery for March 30


• Immediately withdraw Bubba and Baby from preschool


• Keep Bubba in PPCD and begin 5 days a week in the fall


• Enroll Baby in mother's day out (where she went before) 2 days a week for the fall


• Withdraw my application to return to teaching in the fall

Depending on how Baby does over the next few months, she may have to see an immunologist, but we will wait and see. Thanks to everyone for their prayers and well wishes! We hope she continues to do well.

Round Two

Baby was released from the hospital yesterday with host of medications and supplies (diagnosed with RSV, bronchiolitis, and pneumonia). We have breathing treatments every 4 hours (day and night), chest pt (basically I beat on her chest and back), steroids, and antibiotics. She is doing better, but she is still having a really hard time breathing. I wish I had stolen the oxygen monitor from the hospital, so I would know how she is every second of the day.
When I picked Bubba up from school yesterday (yes...hours after Baby was discharged), though, he was running a fever of 102.4, coughing his head off, and complaining of a headache. I went home, kissed Evander goodbye (because he is traveling this week, of course), picked up Baby, and headed for the pediatrician's office.
I am not going to lie... I cried all the way to the pediatrician's office. The thought of having two terribly sick children was more than I could handle at the moment. Baby and I had been at the hospital for 48 consecutive hours, and I had gotten NO sleep. I was so afraid that her oxygen was going to dip (even though she was getting oxygen) that I couldn't sleep. I kept my eyes glued to the monitor.
My suspicions were confirmed. The pediatrician said that Bubba has an ear infection (what's new) and RSV. I said several curse words, then apologized for my inappropriate comments. The doctor then went on to say that Bubba is evidently immune to antibiotics, because he was taking antibiotics for a previous infection when this occurred. Because of this, an injection was required and a mandatory 20 minute wait would follow (to make sure he had no allergic reaction). He freaked out about the shot, but then went about his business.
Twenty minutes later, the pediatrician and nurse came in the find Baby and I lying across the exam table, nearly asleep, and Bubba licking the mirror. Welcome to my house! We were good to go. So...now I have two children on breathing treatments every four hours, steroids, and antibiotics. FYI... potent steroids and toddlers do not mix well!!

Worlds Apart

She is lying just inches from me, but we feel worlds apart. Her body is elevated on a white cloud of pillows, but she looks horribly uncomfortable. She is trapped in a spider web of tubes, one protruding from her nose to sustain her life, another running from her tiny chubby arm to the IV pump hovering over my head, and the last one sticking out of her sock to record her heart rate and oxygen level. As I look at her, I can see her belly rising and falling, trying desperately to breathe. I try to sync my breath with hers but realize I'm about to hyperventilate. It is just too fast. A bead of sweat runs down her forehead and rests on her pale round cheek. When I start to adjust her blankets, I quickly realize she isn't hot. She is sweating because her fragile body is desperately working to breathe. I brush her wet blond curls from her eyes, and she stirs. I hold her close, but know this is out of my hands.

As I lay beside her, I think of the last time we shared a hospital bed. Our baby surprise had finally arrived and she was beautiful. I never pictured, on that wonderful day, that we would be back under different circumstances. She is not the one who is supposed to be wearing the hospital gown. This is not how a mother ever wants to see her child.

Guatemalan, Adopted, Autistic

When you are the mother of a typical child, there aren't too many questions that bother you. Strangers are constantly asking where Baby gets her curly hair or why she is so large. While some of the comments and questions may be bold, it never bothers me. With Bubba, however, it is a different story. I suppose I feel that I am his protector and need to shield him from the ignorance of the world. People are always making racially charged comments in the presence of my Hispanic son, and it bothers me. Family members discuss "Mexicans" as if they were put on the Earth to sweep up after others and friends speak of African Americans as if they are disgusted by them. When alone with Bubba, Evander or I have been asked "What is he mixed with?" and "Is your wife Mexican?"

These comments constantly leave me wondering when to explain adoption and when to shut up. Many of you know that it is hard for me to simply shut up, so I usually respond with a relatively heated and extremely rude comment that leaves the ignorant person to swim in their ridiculousness (example: My husband isn't Mexican, but my mother is African American). I realize that, as Bubba gets older, I must stop this. He is much too smart and now understands what I am saying. I do not want him to be ashamed to be adopted or Hispanic, but I also don't want him to feel that he must explain himself everywhere he goes. Which brings me to the next issue.

While in Alabama, I had several people comment on Bubba's "shyness". I simply smiled and ignored them, thinking to myself "I wish it were that simple". Then I began to think...should I be explaining Bubba's autism spectrum disorder? Should I correct those who assume Bubba is simply shy by describing the real issue? I also do not want him to be ashamed of his autism, but I don't want him to feel that he must explain this either. I spoke to my friend Joy about this and she said she always explained, and it has worked for them.

I just don't know, though. Is it my duty to educate the world on prejudice, adoption, AND autism? At times, I feel like it is. This is what we signed up for when we chose to adopt internationally, and it is our job to make the world a better place for our son. While typical mothers may ponder how their child's red hair sprouted, I am left to wonder how to inform others. I do not want Bubba to feel that he is being explained away, but I do want him to be proud of who he is and where he came from. Guatemalan, Autistic, Adopted...and Proud!

Doing Something Right

I have been told that I make a difference in my children. I discipline them differently, relate to them differently, and am simply unfair at times. To this I have one thing to say... Of course I treat my children differently. They are different people, with different attitudes, different personalities, and different ways of relating to the world. They have different interests, different emotions, and different abilities. With Baby, a simple stern look will bring her to tears. Bubba, however, is unable to read facial expressions correctly, so he laughs. Baby is not quite two and has a great understanding of actions and consequences. Bubba is three and has no concept of actions = consequences. My point...what works with one, doesn't always work with the other.

Evander and I have been doing something right though. On Friday, I went with Bubba and Baby to their school Valentine's parties and got to see them interact with their little friends, as well as one another. Both classes went to the playground, which they evidently do often together, and my children seemed to forget I was there. They were playing together like I had never seen before. Bubba was helping Baby up the steps, and she held his hand as they went down the slide together. She called for him when she wanted to be pushed in her little car, and he came running
It was so nice to see the two of them playing together. They love each other very much and are one another's best friend. While they may fight at home, they look out for each other when they are together. They depend on one another. We may run a tight ship, it seems to be working out pretty well.

Yet Another Opinion

When Bubba went for his 3-year well visit with our pediatrician, she recommended that we see a new psychiatrist. She began by explaining that this doctor is closer, and then got to the point. She wanted to see if this doctor might switch Bubba's medication. Our pediatrician felt that, since Bubba has improved so much, he might be able to switch to an ADD med instead of his current meds.
As I have mentioned in the past, Bubba is currently taking Seroquel, an anti-psychotic medication typically used for patients with schizophrenia or bipolar disorder. We do not like the thought of him being on the medication, but it has helped him to make great strides. Also, when we tried to completely remove him from the medication a few months ago, he completely came unglued. He lacked complete impulse control, began having potty accidents, stopped sleeping, and had aggressive outbursts. Because of this, we understand that he still needs something, but I was also curious if we could try something a little less intense.
Well...we (Bubba, Baby, and I) showed up at the psychiatrist's office in our typical tornado fashion. We whirled in through the tiny glass door and immediately took over the crowded, dorm room sized waiting area. I had my overly full teacher-like white 3-ring binder in hand, which carries all of Bubba's evaluations, observations, test scores, meeting times, and public school items (yes...I keep extra special records on all public school happenings), two Lambies (one baby and one lamb), two sippy cups, and one overstuffed purse. Contrary to the waiting patients' thoughts, I wasn't even the patient!
Bubba immediately began jumping off chairs, writing on the wall (doctor's offices really shouldn't chain a pen to anything because I can't remove it), and meowing like a cat. Next came the continuous spinning, bear crawls, yells, and echolalia (repetitive speech). To top it off, Baby body slammed herself on top of Bubba, who was, at the time, pretending to be a cat on the floor. Right about the time Bubba began counting the blind sections over and over, I noticed a teenager in the corner of the room gripping his chair so tightly I thought he was trying not to take off. Then, I heard his mother. She was trying to help him calm down...evidently this teenage boy was prone to panic attacks (the reason for his visit) and my children were giving him one!
After speaking with the doctor, we had all the answers we needed. He diagnosed him with Asperger's Syndrome (also known as high-functioning autism; on the high end of the autism spectrum; cannot be diagnosed until after 3 years of age), which we already knew was coming. Then, however, came the kicker. There was to be no change of medication. In fact, he increased Bubba's dose of Seroquel. He said that Bubba is, at his age, not capable of dealing with all of the emotion and anxiety that comes along with this syndrome. He said there is no way for anyone to understand the level of anxiety that Bubba feels in social situations and to take him off this medication would be devastating for him. He said that ADD medications simply cannot treat all that needs to be treated in this situation.
I left perfectly happy with the outcome. I want Bubba to be happy and healthy. I know that he carries a lot of anxiety around with him on a daily basis, and I would never want to make that worse just because I don't like the medication. The doctor seems to think that we will be able to change medications when Bubba is older and can better cope with his emotions, but right now, that isn't an option. We will see...

The Not-So-Good Nite Lite

A few months ago, I happened upon a tiny paragraph hidden in the corner of Parents magazine. It was a excerpt about a product called the "Good Nite Lite". It works through a timer, which is set by the parent. The parent sets the timer to the child's bedtime and a moon illuminates. When the appropriate wake up time is reached (which is also set by the parent), a sun appears. The key is to gradually increase the wake up time by 15 minutes, so your child learns to stay in bed. It also gave an example of a child who always awoke at 5:00 am but changed her ways after using the night light. Fabulous I thought! Who wakes up no later than 5:00 am every single morning? Yep...Bubba! What better candidate for the Good Nite Lite than us?
After our two night lights arrived (one for each child of course), I unpacked them and set the timers for 5:15 am. Here are the results:
Morning 1: 4:45 am wake up
Morning 2: 4:40 am wake up
Morning 3: 4:30 am wake up
Morning 4: 4:00 am wake up
As you can see, something was going terribly wrong. Bubba was supposed to be getting up later, not earlier. After thinking this through I asked Evander, "Do you think he is anxious about the sun appearing?" My thought was dismissed, but I decided to try one of my famous science experiments. Bubba had conveniently removed the sun/moon light from the plug, so I just left it unplugged. He asked about it and I said, "I don't have time to reset it tonight, so no sun in the morning."
The next morning, he slept until 5:00 am. I just knew that a visual cue, like a sun, would help him to see that it was time to get up (of stay in bed). I forgot, though, how sensitive he is. That one little change to his sleeping environment rocked his whole world. Now, we are back to the CARS night light that Momma Bird gave us and the closet light on. What a difference a light can make!

I cried...AGAIN

Each time Bubba or Baby begin something new, I am nervous. It is the kind of nervous you feel just before you step on the biggest roller coaster of all time... butterflies are fluttering in the pit of your stomach, adrenaline is beginning to rush, and a tiny part of you is just a little scared. This is not the same feeling I had today, however, when Bubba began PPCD.
Last night I tossed and turned. I kept waking up thinking of how Bubba might handle each new situation. By the time I got up this morning I was virtually in tears. For some reason, I was afraid for him. I was genuinely worried about him. Part of me was trying to talk myself out of taking him, but the other half was forcing me to go. I think my fear subconsciously started when I visited his classroom a few weeks earlier.
The room looked as if there had been a nuclear color and toy attack contained within the four classroom walls. My senses were overwhelmed with bright reds, blues, and yellows, and everywhere I looked I saw toys seeping out of every crevice. There were more pocket charts than I could count and more bulletin boards than I cared to look at. There was no restroom in the classroom and it was the most cluttered place I have ever seen. This was a far cry from his perfect little Daffodils room, so the anxiety slowly began.
Bubba likes order and routine. He doesn't tell authority figures he needs to use the restroom; he just goes. The color is too overstimulating for him, and he will be easily distracted. He isn't good with waiting his turn or eating snack quickly. He is Hispanic and might get confused with the ESL students. These were the thoughts racing through my head this morning, and, when I couldn't take it anymore, I sat down and wrote his teacher an email:

" Hi! As you know, Bubba will be joining you today, and I just wanted to share a few things about him (things you will most likely find out anyway).
1. He is completely potty trained but will be wearing a pull up today. It takes him weeks to actually ask to use the potty, and, until then, he would rather have an accident than ask.
2. In new situations, he has to be reminded to use his words. He can communicate very effectively but needs cuing.
3. He is the slowest eater on the planet.
4. He is very dramatic. He has a VERY high pain tolerance, but if he notices a reaction, he will milk it for all it's worth.
5. Lambie is his security blanket. He takes him everywhere. If he needs to be tucked away, I would suggest telling him you don't want the other kids to get him or have him place it inside his shirt (sounds weird but it works)
6. He is very into "modes of transportation" (cars, trucks, etc).
7. He is very easily distracted.
As you can tell, I'm a little nervous about today. The teacher side of me understands, but the mom side of me doesn't want him to go! I know you will take good care of him. If you need anything please email or call at xxx-xxx-xxxx. Also, Joy (name changed for privacy but named Joy because her radiant smile and buoyant laughter always bring me joy) teaches 3rd grade and is a good family friend (if you need anything)."
On the ride to school I began to tell Bubba how wonderfully fun his new school would be and how many new friends he would meet (not the smartest route to go but I was trying). Once we arrived I checked in the office to see where to go...the lunchroom. Surely these babies were not going to have to line up and wait for their teacher to come and get them (the teacher in me already knew the answer). I took Bubba to sit in the back of his class line and wait for his teacher to arrive. He immediately formed his little fists that were so familiar as an infant, a sure sign he was in distress. I tried to make friends with the little girl in front of him, but neither party was to interested so I gave up. Baby also tried making friends, but to no avail. Just when I began to freak out about the "big" kids being in the lunchroom with my 3-year-old, his teachers arrived.
I tried making eye contact, but they ignored me. I obviously stick out above rest of the crowd seated on the lunchroom floor, so that was a point deduction for them. They were not starting on a positive note with me this morning. When it looked as if I was going to have to make the first move, I stood, kissed Bubba on the forehead and told him goodbye. I stopped to let the teachers know that he was, indeed, part of their snake-like line (as if they didn't know) and turned to steal one last glimpse of him. Just as I did, he began to scream, and I panicked. I quickly began to calculate the distance from him to the door. Did I have the time and strength to jerk up Bubba and Baby and bolt out the door? Could I make it to the car, strap both children in, and screech out of the parking lot before someone caught me?
Instead, I took a deep breath, grabbed Baby's hand and walked as fast as my legs could carry me. I felt the tears welling up in my eyes, but I had to make it to the car. Baby gave some resistance, but there was no time. If I hesitated any longer I was going to break down in the front of the elementary school, so I scooped her up and ran to the car. When I was certain we were both safe inside, I let it go. What had I just done? I just left my child in a situation that even I did not feel comfortable in. I tried to convince myself that it was for his own good.
I spoke with Evander on the phone shortly after dropping him off, and he made me feel a little better (how he understood what I said through the sobs, I don't know). Then, my good friend Joy sent me two emails after checking in on him. She provided me detailed accounts of Bubba (Lambie tucked safely inside his shirt) interacting with the other children. She may never know how important those emails were for me, but I may not have made it through the 3 hours without them.
I picked him up 3 hours later, only to find that he was unharmed, clean, and in a relatively good mood. I know PPCD is good for him, but I also know that he is only 3. He is a 3-year-old in an elementary school. Through all that we have been through, I have never felt so awful in my life as I did today, walking away from him as he screamed for me.