Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Stubborn? Crazy? In Our Family? NEVER.

Hi. Yeah. I know what time it is. But it's lunchtime. I'm on a BREAK. Okay?

(Which makes me want to quote Patrick Swayze in Dirty Dancing: "She's taking a break. She needs a break." And then the annoying hotel guy Neil says, "Just as long as it's not an all night break."

What? You haven't memorized all of Dirty Dancing? Come on. "Nobody puts Baby in the corner." "I carried a watermelon." That's CLASSIC stuff.)

I guess I should warn you. I'm a little bit cranky today. Probably because, like my 20 month old STUBBORN MULE OF A SON (let's say SMOAS for short), I'm a bit tired.

Apparantly the SMOAS has decided that sleep isn't so important anymore. Eh. Who needs it when you can just play all night. Right? And then, you can fake people out like you're exhausted and cuddly and ready for bed. And for the added illusion, you wave to everyone as you go off to bed, like the Irish colleen on the St. Patrick's day float. Hello my people! Thank you all! Good night!

But oh, no. Then? You stand up in your crib. And you cry. And cry. And cry.

I'm guessing this is a phase. I don't know if it's separation anxiety, or if he's testing us, or if he's getting his wisdom teeth early. All I know is this: a month ago, he went to sleep like a champ. Bring him in his room, lay him down, give him his teddy bear, and boom. Off to sleep. Now? Not so much.

I shouldn't really complain. Jete's the one who's getting the brunt of it. He's taken it upon himself to lay with CG while he settles down. (To clarify - to anyone who, like my mother, thinks he climbs inside the crib - he lays on the FLOOR beside the crib.) Last night, it took over an hour. Then when CG woke crying again this morning at 5:30ish, Jete went in again.

It's like having a newborn all over again. Except for the temper tantrums. A 20-month-old can fling himself with a hell of a lot more force than a newborn. So don't piss him off.


Last week, CG had his Early Intervention evaluation to see if he qualifies for any services. You may recall I was concerned about his speech (or lack of speech, I suppose).

We had the whole crew there - PT, OT, ST, developmental specialists, and a coordinator. I found myself a little nervous. What would they think of him? Would he pass the tests? Maybe he is delayed in areas other than speech. I could be missing things. Compared to Ethan, he seems super-advanced. But how would he compare to where he should be?

I guess things would be different if we didn't have Ethan, but we do. I don't take anything for granted. I don't just assume my son is going to develop normally. I don't assume he's going to be of average intelligence, never mind go to college or any of that. Why would I? He can walk and see and hear. Those other things are bonuses, as far as I'm concerned. Anyone who expects their child to grow up and be a beauty queen while attending law school is setting themselves up for disappointment, if you ask me.

A lot of my friends and family thought I was being overly worried when I even wanted to consult a speech therapist. I can see what they mean. I tend to be a bit, um, ANXIOUS a lot of the time. A catastrophist, as my psychologist called me. Someone who employs "the prediction or expectation of cataclysmic upheaval, as in political or social developments". I always seem to assume the worst. So I admit, I've got a bit of a history with unnecessary freaking out.

But it still bothered me that everyone seemed to dismiss my concerns. They would listen to me and then say "He's FINE. Don't worry." But I wasn't "worrying" as much as I was recognizing that something was amiss. It's pretty cut and dry: he says no words, the charts say he should be. I thought I was being proactive. Taking control of my worries, instead of laying up nights, wondering if he'd ever learn to talk.

The tests went fine. He scored right on target with all areas except two. He was a little ahead of his age, about 25 months, on some of the social levels. He plays very independently, is open with strangers, and engages in a lot of pretend play. And while his receptive language level is normal, he did score behind on his expressive speech, at about a 12 month level. So he qualifies for speech therapy, probably to start sometime next year.

Was I happy he's speech delayed? No. But I was glad to hear that I'm not overracting. For once.

1 comment:

The Fuz said...

I came across your blog today and I LOVE IT! I was totally mesmerized by your story of Ethan and was royally disappointed part 13 hadn't been published yet - so many questions (which are probably answered in other posts I have yet to read!). I've added you to my blogroll for others to enjoy as well! Great blog - you write very well!