It is blessedly most blissfully quiet.
Griff was a bit of a pill this evening, but went down with his Dad without too much of a fight (as far as I could tell, anyway.)
Allan needed to go back on the oxygen (3 days or so off) and was full of vinegar after his bath. So while Dad and Griff snuggled in the bedroom suite, Big Al and I worked on bench-sitting, standing and cruising. We also worked on the words to "I'm Getting Nothing for Christmas." Mom couldn't remember them (it has been about 30 years since she had to sing it for Ms. Adamson) and Dad never knew it (he was probably singing God, Bless Ye, Merry Gentlemen).
At any rate, Momma looked up the lyrics on-line and sang them over and over in an effort to commit them to memory. And then started modifying them: I broke a bat on Griffith's head. (That is what happens when you fall asleep first!) Somebody snitched on me. I put a frog in Bailey's bed. Somebody snitched on me. I spilled some ink on Jess's rug. I made Joseph eat a bug. Somebody snitched on me. I put a tack on Flora's chair. Somebody snitched on me. I tied a knot in Lottie's hair. Somebody snitched on me. I did a dance on Mommy's plants, I climbed a tree and tore my pants, I filled the sugar bowl with ants, somebody snitched on me. Allan did great with the sit, stand, transfer, cruise thing -- right up until he decided he had had enough. Then we watched Project Runway (can you believe they sent Chris home instead of Ricky? Ri.Dic.U.Lous.)
AnyWho.
Close to time to retire.
Sweet dreams.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
Time Out
This is the chair that Flora brought. We had to put it to use tonight. I don't know what happened. I was doing dishes. The next thing I hear is "No!" (Jay) wailing (Allan), scampering and wailing, (Griffith).
I did not ask, but I believe that G knocked A over. Griff did sit in the chair and not move. Which seems to indicate that he knows what this is all about.
Open and shut
Griffith working on the drawers in the dining room. We are going to have to lock everything.
Stuck again.
Allan got himself stuck under the coffee table. This crawling backwards stuff really doesn't work that well.
Patches
Well, we are patching Big Al's good eye again. For now.
No one can tell us what kind of vision Allan has or will have in his left eye. We really haven't done a whole lot of patching of his good eye since shortly after his surgery because, well, because it is really, really hard to keep a patch on his eye. He doesn't like it. It irritates him and he pulls it off. And all he really has is time, energy and opportunity.
So we end up getting referred through the system to yet another ophthamologist who is going to make his recommendations about patching. Fine. Unfortunately for him, Momma was full of energy. The appointment was first thing Monday morning and we had all had a good night's sleep.
First of all, we march in and are told to take a seat. Nope. Not going to do it. Put us in a room. Nasty filthy sniffling dirty people are in the waiting room and we are not going to contract Ebola waiting for the eye doctor.
Then we have the assistant who comes in to take the history. Why don't you consult the eight three-ring binders at the hospital? Or, perhaps, the three inch folder that I know you have just right here at the eye clinic. Then we spend a fair amount of time pestering Allan trying to do some sort of gross evaluation of his eyes. And trying to get the iris that has been stretched to contract. I'm pretty sure it isn't going to, but give it your best shot, sport.
Finally, Dr. H comes in. Very nice guy in a retro forest green corduroy blazer. He pesters Allan for a bit. Then decides that pestering me will be more effective.
Dr. H: Are you patching?
Me: (Only in my head: Well, if you check any of the file notes, you will see that the answer is 'no') No.
(Disapproving Look.) (Him, not me.)
Dr. H: Well, it is important to establish the neural pathways by forcing him to use that eye.
Me: Um-hm. Well, the patches don't work because he rips them off. Do you have any suggestions for what we can do to keep him from tearing them off? Reasoning doesn't seem to work. (In a pleasant and inquisitive tone, I swear to God.)
Dr. H: What have you tried?
Me: Well, the patches and extra tape, but it really doesn't work. He just pulls them off.
Dr. H: Have you trying splinting? There are splints that keep children from being able to reach up and pull patches off.
Me: (Disapproving Look. Actually, Look of Are You Batshit Crazy??????) No. No. We haven't tried that and I am not going to. Please explain to me what actual, concrete benefit this child is going to receive from patching. Can you tell me that his vision will improve at all? Incrementally? Considerably? Do you have any idea at all?
Dr. H: Ummmm ... it really has to be done prior to his turning six or the good eye will have taken over entirely. It is only for 2 hours a day.
Me: (In my head: Move to strike as nonresponsive. You have no effing clue as to whether there will be any improvement.) Two hours is about 20 percent of Allan's waking hours. And you can not tell me what, if any, benefit will result, is that correct?
Dr. H: Oh.
Me: On a gross motor level, Allan is at about 12 month level. He is learning to pull up, cruise. He is finally figuring out why he would want to crawl. And you want me to cut, by twenty percent, the time that he has to do that?
(Silence.)
Me: How will we know if patching is helping at all?
Dr. H: Well, as he tolerates the patch more, you will know that the vision has improved.
Me: Or that he has just decided that it isn't worth fighting anymore?
Dr. H: (Silence.) Maybe. I realize it is easy for us to say what you should do and much harder to actually implement it.
Amen. Amen.
(End of scene.)
Please do not get me wrong: Dr. H seems like a nice enough sort of guy. They all do. And every one seems to have the right idea: doing the best they can by Big Al.. Still and all, it is incredibly frustrating to be the nonexperts and yet Jay and I have to be the ones to balance all of this advice. If we did every thing every doctor and therapist recommended, Allan would never have time to be a baby. Which he is. A lively, sweet, beautiful, most excellent baby. He isn't a medical condition. He is Allan.
So -- we have taken to patching again while he is eating. At least part of the time. We have to balance: if his eye isn't ever going to have any significant vision, then why slow him down on crawling and standing and developing those skills?
And, on that note, Allan is doing great. He is really putting it together these days: he can totally see why he needs to roll over and pull up and he spends a lot of time crawling. Backwards, but crawling none-the-less. Miss Julie thinks that the next 2-4 weeks will be a big watershed for Allan and that he will be walking (or cruising) all over the place.
We can't imagine a better Christmas gift.
No one can tell us what kind of vision Allan has or will have in his left eye. We really haven't done a whole lot of patching of his good eye since shortly after his surgery because, well, because it is really, really hard to keep a patch on his eye. He doesn't like it. It irritates him and he pulls it off. And all he really has is time, energy and opportunity.
So we end up getting referred through the system to yet another ophthamologist who is going to make his recommendations about patching. Fine. Unfortunately for him, Momma was full of energy. The appointment was first thing Monday morning and we had all had a good night's sleep.
First of all, we march in and are told to take a seat. Nope. Not going to do it. Put us in a room. Nasty filthy sniffling dirty people are in the waiting room and we are not going to contract Ebola waiting for the eye doctor.
Then we have the assistant who comes in to take the history. Why don't you consult the eight three-ring binders at the hospital? Or, perhaps, the three inch folder that I know you have just right here at the eye clinic. Then we spend a fair amount of time pestering Allan trying to do some sort of gross evaluation of his eyes. And trying to get the iris that has been stretched to contract. I'm pretty sure it isn't going to, but give it your best shot, sport.
Finally, Dr. H comes in. Very nice guy in a retro forest green corduroy blazer. He pesters Allan for a bit. Then decides that pestering me will be more effective.
Dr. H: Are you patching?
Me: (Only in my head: Well, if you check any of the file notes, you will see that the answer is 'no') No.
(Disapproving Look.) (Him, not me.)
Dr. H: Well, it is important to establish the neural pathways by forcing him to use that eye.
Me: Um-hm. Well, the patches don't work because he rips them off. Do you have any suggestions for what we can do to keep him from tearing them off? Reasoning doesn't seem to work. (In a pleasant and inquisitive tone, I swear to God.)
Dr. H: What have you tried?
Me: Well, the patches and extra tape, but it really doesn't work. He just pulls them off.
Dr. H: Have you trying splinting? There are splints that keep children from being able to reach up and pull patches off.
Me: (Disapproving Look. Actually, Look of Are You Batshit Crazy??????) No. No. We haven't tried that and I am not going to. Please explain to me what actual, concrete benefit this child is going to receive from patching. Can you tell me that his vision will improve at all? Incrementally? Considerably? Do you have any idea at all?
Dr. H: Ummmm ... it really has to be done prior to his turning six or the good eye will have taken over entirely. It is only for 2 hours a day.
Me: (In my head: Move to strike as nonresponsive. You have no effing clue as to whether there will be any improvement.) Two hours is about 20 percent of Allan's waking hours. And you can not tell me what, if any, benefit will result, is that correct?
Dr. H: Oh.
Me: On a gross motor level, Allan is at about 12 month level. He is learning to pull up, cruise. He is finally figuring out why he would want to crawl. And you want me to cut, by twenty percent, the time that he has to do that?
(Silence.)
Me: How will we know if patching is helping at all?
Dr. H: Well, as he tolerates the patch more, you will know that the vision has improved.
Me: Or that he has just decided that it isn't worth fighting anymore?
Dr. H: (Silence.) Maybe. I realize it is easy for us to say what you should do and much harder to actually implement it.
Amen. Amen.
(End of scene.)
Please do not get me wrong: Dr. H seems like a nice enough sort of guy. They all do. And every one seems to have the right idea: doing the best they can by Big Al.. Still and all, it is incredibly frustrating to be the nonexperts and yet Jay and I have to be the ones to balance all of this advice. If we did every thing every doctor and therapist recommended, Allan would never have time to be a baby. Which he is. A lively, sweet, beautiful, most excellent baby. He isn't a medical condition. He is Allan.
So -- we have taken to patching again while he is eating. At least part of the time. We have to balance: if his eye isn't ever going to have any significant vision, then why slow him down on crawling and standing and developing those skills?
And, on that note, Allan is doing great. He is really putting it together these days: he can totally see why he needs to roll over and pull up and he spends a lot of time crawling. Backwards, but crawling none-the-less. Miss Julie thinks that the next 2-4 weeks will be a big watershed for Allan and that he will be walking (or cruising) all over the place.
We can't imagine a better Christmas gift.
Wednesday, December 05, 2007
Big Al Update
Allan is doing very well again. We've lost track of how many days he has been off the oxygen -- at least three and, possibly, four. He's getting to be such a professional that we are starting to take it for granted.
And he is doing a lot of rolling over and getting up in to crawling position. He keeps going backward more than forward, but is determined to get it right.
He and Griffith are starting to play together more, too (when Griffith isn't assaulting him!). Yesterday Allan was laying on the couch, shaking his head "no, no." Griff thought this was very funny and was laughing at him. Allan realized that he was amusing Griffith and so would stop and then shake his head vigorously and laugh at Griffith laughing at him. Ah, the simple things.....
And he is doing a lot of rolling over and getting up in to crawling position. He keeps going backward more than forward, but is determined to get it right.
He and Griffith are starting to play together more, too (when Griffith isn't assaulting him!). Yesterday Allan was laying on the couch, shaking his head "no, no." Griff thought this was very funny and was laughing at him. Allan realized that he was amusing Griffith and so would stop and then shake his head vigorously and laugh at Griffith laughing at him. Ah, the simple things.....
The Naughty Chair
Dad was threatening to use Griffith's Christmas budget to buy a "naughty chair" for him, but Flora saved the day. Maybe.
Griffith has taken to pushing Allan. A lot. And he's pretty quiet and sneaky about it, too. He'll come up behind Allan and take his hand and slowly push Allan's head down until he is on the floor. Our first inkling that something is amiss is usually either a thud (Allan hitting the floor) or a wail (Allan finally deciding that someone had better do something). This is generally followed by Griffith running as fast as he can. Which just goes to show that he KNOWS that he isn't supposed to be doing it. The other night, he just kept coming back for Allan. We tried 'no' and explaining that it was 'not nice.' Yeah? So what? Back again. 'Stop.' and 'Time out.' Back again. We didn't really have a good place for time out. We didn't like using the nursery or his crib because we didn't want them to be associated with punishment. As you can see from the photo below, we were using one of our arm chairs. Then Dad thought of spending Griff's holiday money on a 'naughty chair.' Sort of akin to Santa bringing bad boys and girls lumps of coal and switches, I suppose.
But, this morning, Flora brought in a little chair that she had at her house that says "Time Out" on the back. Something she had from babysitting the triplets. No word on whether it has been used today or not, but Griffith was giving it a real looking over this morning. Flora swears that he wouldn't have any thing to do with her today. She is convinced he was mad at her for taking our side with this whole Time Out nonsense.
Griffith has taken to pushing Allan. A lot. And he's pretty quiet and sneaky about it, too. He'll come up behind Allan and take his hand and slowly push Allan's head down until he is on the floor. Our first inkling that something is amiss is usually either a thud (Allan hitting the floor) or a wail (Allan finally deciding that someone had better do something). This is generally followed by Griffith running as fast as he can. Which just goes to show that he KNOWS that he isn't supposed to be doing it. The other night, he just kept coming back for Allan. We tried 'no' and explaining that it was 'not nice.' Yeah? So what? Back again. 'Stop.' and 'Time out.' Back again. We didn't really have a good place for time out. We didn't like using the nursery or his crib because we didn't want them to be associated with punishment. As you can see from the photo below, we were using one of our arm chairs. Then Dad thought of spending Griff's holiday money on a 'naughty chair.' Sort of akin to Santa bringing bad boys and girls lumps of coal and switches, I suppose.
But, this morning, Flora brought in a little chair that she had at her house that says "Time Out" on the back. Something she had from babysitting the triplets. No word on whether it has been used today or not, but Griffith was giving it a real looking over this morning. Flora swears that he wouldn't have any thing to do with her today. She is convinced he was mad at her for taking our side with this whole Time Out nonsense.
Griffith in the 'naughty chair'
Griffith fighting to get out of the naughty chair where Dad put him for pushing Allan.
Absolutely furious.
We need to post a video clip with sound of this. He's every bit as loud as you would think that he would be.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
Holiday countdown
Well, we are well and truly in the midst of the holiday season. The first Christmas party was Friday night and, while it was fun, made us realize how much we have to accomplish between now and Christmas.
As you can see, the boys and I had a good time at home on Thursday. The weather was still nice enough for a good long walk with Miss Nicole. Griff got tired (and wet) toward the end and threw and absolute fit about two blocks from home. Mom ended up carrying him which was a mistake -- he weighs an absolute ton!
Saturday we decided to call off going to cut down a Xmas tree and simply send Dad out to buy one instead. It wasn't warm enough in the morning to drag Thing One and Thing Two out. All that was going to be accomplished was wasting a whole bunch of time and energy. We can re-start that tradition next year.
Dad has made some sort of Rube Goldberg contraption to hold the Christmas tree which he swears that Griffith can not defeat. Personally, I think that sort of announcement is needlessly confrontational. Griff has nothing but time and opportunity to defeat any innovations. It makes me think of those 'squirrel-proof' feeders -- given enough time the little rodent is going to defeat you. Still, relying upon his representations, we have decorated a lovely tree. The Tube Of Ornaments were a huge hit, but the wind has already blown the decorations off of the porch. Time to put a brick in the bottom of the planter.
At any rate, it is starting to look like Christmas, at least at our house. The tree is up and fully decorated. The mantle is about half-way (needs more greenery). The nativity scenes are up. (We had to stage a man-hunt for the Baby Jesus who had gone missing from one, but we managed to find him without too much effort.) Lights are hung on the outside, but (of course) there is one strand that stubbornly refuses to cooperate. And it would have to be in the middle instead of being conveniently located to one end or the other.
The boys have now been fed, bathed and snuggled. (Twice for Griff who wakes up consistently 20 to 40 minutes after he first goes to sleep.)
Good night and sweet dreams!
As you can see, the boys and I had a good time at home on Thursday. The weather was still nice enough for a good long walk with Miss Nicole. Griff got tired (and wet) toward the end and threw and absolute fit about two blocks from home. Mom ended up carrying him which was a mistake -- he weighs an absolute ton!
Saturday we decided to call off going to cut down a Xmas tree and simply send Dad out to buy one instead. It wasn't warm enough in the morning to drag Thing One and Thing Two out. All that was going to be accomplished was wasting a whole bunch of time and energy. We can re-start that tradition next year.
Dad has made some sort of Rube Goldberg contraption to hold the Christmas tree which he swears that Griffith can not defeat. Personally, I think that sort of announcement is needlessly confrontational. Griff has nothing but time and opportunity to defeat any innovations. It makes me think of those 'squirrel-proof' feeders -- given enough time the little rodent is going to defeat you. Still, relying upon his representations, we have decorated a lovely tree. The Tube Of Ornaments were a huge hit, but the wind has already blown the decorations off of the porch. Time to put a brick in the bottom of the planter.
At any rate, it is starting to look like Christmas, at least at our house. The tree is up and fully decorated. The mantle is about half-way (needs more greenery). The nativity scenes are up. (We had to stage a man-hunt for the Baby Jesus who had gone missing from one, but we managed to find him without too much effort.) Lights are hung on the outside, but (of course) there is one strand that stubbornly refuses to cooperate. And it would have to be in the middle instead of being conveniently located to one end or the other.
The boys have now been fed, bathed and snuggled. (Twice for Griff who wakes up consistently 20 to 40 minutes after he first goes to sleep.)
Good night and sweet dreams!
If I were just a little taller...
Griff, contemplating the destruction he would wreak on the Christmas ornaments were he just a little taller.
Not in the Christmas spirit
Allan was too fast for us. We have two dozen pictures of him milliseconds after jerking the hat off of his head.
Hope it isn't breakable.
Griff stomping on the gift from
Grandma and Grampy. Guess he resented the fact that his parcel arrived three day (three days!!!) after his brother's. You wouldn't think that grandparents would show such a preference. Nothing that years of counseling won't help....
Grandma and Grampy. Guess he resented the fact that his parcel arrived three day (three days!!!) after his brother's. You wouldn't think that grandparents would show such a preference. Nothing that years of counseling won't help....
Thursday update
Does any one else notice that when I am "off," I have far less opportunity to catch up on the blog?????
Miss Flora had to be out on Thursday and Dad had a couple of big appointments, so I played the stay-at-home Momma for the day. Which started early. Very early. Like 5:30 a.m. early. I don't know how Griff knew or why he decided to pester me, but, the one day that I could have slept in, he decided to be up pre-the crack o' dawn.
Miss Julie comes early on Thursday. She hadn't been here in two weeks because of the holiday and so she was Very Impressed with Allan's progress. He has learned how to isolate his hip muscles which means that he can kneel upright now instead of sagging down (it also means he will start to develop the same fine glutes that his brother sports!). For the first time, we practiced bench-sitting on a couch cushion (he has done a version on our legs, but this was the first time he did it independently.) You can see the results. I was quite surprised at how easily he sat up and balanced. And then he would just grin as if he knew that he was showing off. He's such a little doll. I had to take Griff in to the nursery to change him while Julie was here and they were taking a little break (Allan tends to hold his breath and de-sat when he is doing something particularly difficult) and I could hear her telling him how proud she was of him and how much she loved him. Tears me up. It means so much to us to know that his therapists don't just do it because it is a job, but that they genuinely like what they do and who they are doing it for. Of course, the boys are just so loveable -- how could any one resist?
Since Griff started the morning off so blessed early, the little monster was off his schedule most of the day. Which meant no nap for him or for Mom. No sleeping in and no nap. Griffith, 2. Mom, 0). Miss Jen came over, though, and brought monkey bread and it was Wonderful. It had been a few months since she had seen the fellas. While Tracie (the nutrionist) was working with Mom, Miss Jen played with the boys crinkling up freezer paper (that may have to be a Xmas present -- so versatile!). Griffith decided that trying to roll Miss Jen over would be a good idea. Not sure what he was going to do when he tipped her. He would figure that out when it happened, I suppose. Anyway -- we had a good visit with Jennifer. Lunch and naps (boys, not Mom). Then Aunt Lee stopped by to see "those babies" (as her daughter refers to them). Another meal and then Mom and Nicole took the fellows out for a walk. Miss Flora would not appove, since it was in the 40's but they were wrapped up in fleece and blankets. They could hardly move.
All-in-all a thoroughly enjoyable day, but not at all restful.
Miss Flora had to be out on Thursday and Dad had a couple of big appointments, so I played the stay-at-home Momma for the day. Which started early. Very early. Like 5:30 a.m. early. I don't know how Griff knew or why he decided to pester me, but, the one day that I could have slept in, he decided to be up pre-the crack o' dawn.
Miss Julie comes early on Thursday. She hadn't been here in two weeks because of the holiday and so she was Very Impressed with Allan's progress. He has learned how to isolate his hip muscles which means that he can kneel upright now instead of sagging down (it also means he will start to develop the same fine glutes that his brother sports!). For the first time, we practiced bench-sitting on a couch cushion (he has done a version on our legs, but this was the first time he did it independently.) You can see the results. I was quite surprised at how easily he sat up and balanced. And then he would just grin as if he knew that he was showing off. He's such a little doll. I had to take Griff in to the nursery to change him while Julie was here and they were taking a little break (Allan tends to hold his breath and de-sat when he is doing something particularly difficult) and I could hear her telling him how proud she was of him and how much she loved him. Tears me up. It means so much to us to know that his therapists don't just do it because it is a job, but that they genuinely like what they do and who they are doing it for. Of course, the boys are just so loveable -- how could any one resist?
Since Griff started the morning off so blessed early, the little monster was off his schedule most of the day. Which meant no nap for him or for Mom. No sleeping in and no nap. Griffith, 2. Mom, 0). Miss Jen came over, though, and brought monkey bread and it was Wonderful. It had been a few months since she had seen the fellas. While Tracie (the nutrionist) was working with Mom, Miss Jen played with the boys crinkling up freezer paper (that may have to be a Xmas present -- so versatile!). Griffith decided that trying to roll Miss Jen over would be a good idea. Not sure what he was going to do when he tipped her. He would figure that out when it happened, I suppose. Anyway -- we had a good visit with Jennifer. Lunch and naps (boys, not Mom). Then Aunt Lee stopped by to see "those babies" (as her daughter refers to them). Another meal and then Mom and Nicole took the fellows out for a walk. Miss Flora would not appove, since it was in the 40's but they were wrapped up in fleece and blankets. They could hardly move.
All-in-all a thoroughly enjoyable day, but not at all restful.
Checking out the book with Miss Julie
Allan practicing bench-sitting while looking at a book with Griff and Miss Julie.
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