Cray Cray

My boys are not always little angels, but they are a pretty calm couple.  Sure, they scream and run, but when things get "wild" in our house, it is usually melt downs and tantrums.  I watch with equal parts curious envy and terror as some of my friends parent kids whose "wild" is a more physical (and fun) type.  Considering my 2.5 year old cries when he stands on a step stool because he refuses to step down by himself, I'm not well equipped as a mother to deal with the more physical type of toddler fun.

So imagine my shock when about 30 minutes after letting my boys have some chocolate covered mini doughnuts for afternoon snack they started going Nuts.  Bananas.  Cray cray.  Out of their minds.

I am being literal when I say that I was basically cowering in the corner of a bed as they jumped and screamed, threw things off the side of the bed or at each other or the wall and wildly flailed every appendage they could at every other appendage their brother was flailing.  Then they moved from the bed to the floor where they continued to throw themselves on the floor, roll and slide around like animals (this is actually a game we always play, just not so wildly), and dance with flailing appendages. 

At one point Little Bro managed to turn on Little Bug's radio, tune the radio, and started blaring Journey while dancing like he was on the drugs I imagine most of the members of Journey were on while writing said song.

Then they started ripped bedding of the beds, throwing open drawers and throwing clothing out with furious speed, and literally dumping books of the shelf like they were ransacking the place.  Of course, they then turned around and started throwing all the stuff around the room.  All the while Little Bug was screaming with banshee joy and Little Bro was belting out Korean kids songs with the passion of a patriot going to war.

Why didn't I stop it?

I was a little bit in shock, a little bit amused, and a little bit scared.  Clearly they were operating on some intense sugar high and I was worried taking them away from their activities would swing them into some epic melt downs.  And frankly, I would rather crack open a bottle of wine and clean up the sheets than deal with two angry little boys.

It was only when Little Bro picked up a book and tried to rip a page out that I snapped out of it and laid down the law.  You can abuse my sheets or haphazardly folded clothes and you can throw Pororo and Toki and Brendan and the-Moose-no-one-wants-to-be-chingoos-with against the wall, but you cannot rip a page out of a book, even if it is a Chuggington book that is WAY too long anyway.

I admit, in retrospect, I see the smiles and hear the laughs and love the moments, but I'm so glad that I'm on my second glass of wine and they are on their second hour of REM cycle sleep.

Sweet dreams, my little angel babies.

"Mommy, I'm TWO"

Today Little Bro acted like.....a 2 year old. Gasp! He was that kid in Korean class today: crying, screaming NO, ripping apart crafts, throwing things, etc. 

By the time I dragged him and his big brother (who is still doing really well with the oil therapy and was awesome today in class and was most definitely not that kid in class today), I was pulling out my hair trying to figure out what was going on with my littlest one.

Somewhere on the interstate, it hit me.  Little Bro IS 2 years old.  He has a right to act nuts in the middle of a class.  He should be expected to be argumentative, naughty, loud, grumpy, disobedient, etc.  And I'm not really supposed to get why.  He's 2.

Surprisingly, this is kind of a new thing for me to focus on.  Little Bro usually spends times with 3- and 4-year-olds, not 2 year olds, so I don't see a lot of the terrible 2s in action anymore.  Even more deceiving, Little Bro has the soul of an 80-year-old man and a vocabulary to match.  Quite simply, I forget he is only 2 because in so many ways he doesn't act like a 2 year old.  And that isn't a bad thing, but it makes it harder for me to keep age-appropriate expectations for him sometimes.  I'm proud of him for being so mature and living up to high expectations, but I shouldn't begrudge him his rite of passage in toddlerhood, either.

I am thinking about teaching him to say "Mommy, please give me a break, I'm only 2."  Considering he managed to learn to count to 3 in Korean without any prompting or help after learning it in Korean class today while his head was spinning in circles, I think he could knock that sentence out no problem.

Fru-fru Me Culpa

Appa and I aren't really "fru-fru" people.  We are fair-weather organic consumers, don't bat an eye processed foods, and love our over-the-counter medicines in a variety of dye-laden flavors (although, for the record, I have made a massive effort to remove dyes and HFCS from our purchases).  It's not that we are skeptics of a more natural, holistic lifestyle (far from it, actually), rather, we just aren't enough of believers to make the financial and emotional commitments.

But faced with the ever-increasing ticking clock that demands something be found to help Little Bug with his focus and impulses, we've started throwing everything at the wall to see if anything sticks.  The honest truth is that medications are likely, but if we can supplement some of his needs with something other than medication, that is worth any amount of money or commitment to us.

So after some chats with some friends whose opinions and knowledge I value and respect (and admire so so much) regarding essential oil therapy our developmental pediatrician recommended, I invested in two small, but expensive bottles of oils.  One was a blend for calming, and the other is an oil that has been proven effective for increasing focus in children with ADD/ADHD, a component of Little Bug's needs that we need to address soon.

Honestly, when I opened the box and found the two itty bitty vials, my stomach dropped.  This was going to end up in the pile of fails along with weighted vest, chew sticks, the lamb clock, mouth vibr@tors, benick bands, speech whistles, the tummy time spinner, etc.  When you have spent 3 years throwing crap at the wall with little sticking, it makes you jaded.  So yes, I admit, I had buyer's remorse before ever opening the oils.

For about a week, I sort of muddled around with the oils, applying them on Little Bug's neck sometimes and just expecting it to work.  Finally, I figured I needed to give it a real go to at least rule it out before our next meeting with our doctor.  So I read up again on the studies and took steps to learn how to best administer the oils for maximum effect.

Wouldn't you know, the last 6 days have been great.  Sure, Little Bug still has a lot of needs that can't be overcome with oils, but there has absolutely been a change in his actions and demeanor in the last few days.  He sat through Korean class in a pretty age-appropriate manner with a big smile on his face, and he has been willing to sit and color or chat or work on a puzzle longer and without the constant fidgeting.  His "fits" are decreasing in frequency and intensity.  When he inhales the oil he seems to truly calm down a bit.  Call me crazy, but it seems to be making a positive and tangible difference.

Could it be a coincidence that the day we started using the oil was the day he started swinging into a good stretch?  Yes.  But the change has been enough that we ordered a special diffuser for his bedroom (of course the oil we need to use is too thick for traditional oil diffusers), a clay necklace for continuous inhalation during the day, and are pulling the oils out throughout the day.  Because if something makes our son's road just a little bit easy for him to walk, we're going to commit to it.

There is something so exciting about finding something that actually helps increase Little Bug's quality of life.  I'm so grateful to be surrounded by such well-rounded people who can give me perspectives that I might not otherwise find.

The Pendulum Swings

Friday: Little Bug wakes up and immediately begins to exhibit signs of an impulsive, emotionally-unstable mood.  PT and Korean class are hell; he and I cry the whole way home.  He passes out at 7 pm, and I go out for dinner and drinks with my girlfriends, trying hard not to down the entire jug of sangria myself.  [Side note: chick flicks and drinks with girlfriends can cure darn near anything.]

Saturday: Little Bug wakes up and has a wonderful music class where he participates and controls himself.  He's happy and having fun. I breath in a deep sigh of relief.

Saturday afternoon: Little Bug begins to fall apart, throwing things, crying hard, whining, and unable to listen and control himself.  Appa and I exchange sad looks before trying hard to make him comfortable and give him activities to work off some energy.  It doesn't work, and he goes to bed exhausted and sad. Actually, the whole family does.

Sunday morning: Little Bug wakes up very uncomfortable in his skin.  Appa cuts his rare and much deserved b-ball session short to come home and support us.  Little Bug is cycling through emotions fast and furiously and is really unhappy and unpredictable.  I steal a moment with Appa and tear up as he hugs me because we hate seeing my boy so unhappy.

Sunday afternoon: We go outside to get some air and Little Bug gets on his tricycle, give it a couple good rocks, and then starts pedaling.

PEDALING.

Little Bug has never really pedaled before, or even shown any real interest.  Then Sunday, in the midst of a very long stretch of bad days, he just decided that pedaling was the best way to ride his bike and made it happen.  I happened to turn in time to catch the moment, and just like his first steps years ago, my heart stopped a bit before I started running towards him screaming praises and excitement.  I will never, ever forget his face as I crouched low to his and started showering him in kisses.  His cheeks were cold and red from the almost-snowing weather, his eyes were bright with excitement and joy, and his smile was one of his most authentic, joy-filled big smiles--the kind I don't realize are so rare until I see one.  It was one of those moments where we both know he just broke through another milestone, another big skill that isn't just a stepping stone, but a full skill. 

It was easily a moment I will never forget.  I'm so proud of him.

But the pendulum swings in extremes in our world, and although it swung so high in that moment, the truth is it was coming from a low place and went back there fast making Sunday another rough day overall.

I share this for two reasons.  First, we're deep in pendulum swings right now and writing it down simply makes me feel more in control and helps me remember for every bad weekend, there are more good weekends.  But most important, I share it because in the midst of a terribly hard weekend, I want Little Bug to know how strong he is, even at age 4, to fight to swing the pendulum to something high. His fighting spirit is what has and will help him continue to rise above his limitations to reach his full potential.