Sassy and Special

Scene: Little Bug's bedroom as I was trying to get him into jammies while he was trying to apply stickers to his face.

Him:  "Moooooooom, stooooooooP."

It was articulated perfectly with a pop of teenage chagrin and annoyance.  In that moment there was no trace of anything but a boy telling his mama to back off.  So brilliantly 4 going on 14 that it took my breath away.

Life is changing.

Summer Lovin'

Joy. Relief. Hope.

That's what Appa and I have been feeling the last couple days.  Pure joy and relief and hope.  Our precious son has finally been able to shake the very disturbing emotional side effects from his latest dosage tweak, and in place of all that turmoil has come happiness. 

Little Bug's smile, literally one of my favorite things in the entire world, is back and wider than ever.  He is becoming more verbal, more creative, more confident, and more peaceful.  He is seeking out activities on his own and testing his comfort level away from me.  He is trying harder at challenges, instead of giving up and melting down (or not trying at all).  He is making up stories and pretending to be a cat and dog and chef and monster.  He is counting into his teens and singing songs from memory.

A couple days ago he hopped on the couch while I was in another room,  turned on his iPad, and played independently for over 15 minutes.  NOTHING about that last sentence is anything short of extraordinary for our status quo.

Last night he played, mainly alone, in our sandbox for over an hour.  ONE HOUR.  Never, other than sleeping, has he attended to a stationary activity for anywhere close to that amount of time.  And we had to bribe him out with food.  Which Appa and I were both loathe to do as we would have much rather continued to sit with stupid grins on our faces and watch him make "pumpkins" and laugh big belly laughs.

Is this all because of a pill?  Honestly, I think much of it is.

The pill isn't causing these changes in him, but it is giving his brain a little breathing room to really explore its potential and share that with us.  This child has been a super hero fighter from infancy, and my heart gets fluttery just thinking about how much more he is going to be able to accomplish in the coming months, and how proud and happy that will make him.

This dose we are currently crushing on probably isn't the right dose for him academically, but it's summer and he's only got one more week of hardcore summer school before we head off for a vacation filled with Grandmas and a summer of mainstream "fun" preschool.  Although Appa and I know he needs a higher dose, we've decided to let him enjoy his newfound happiness for the summer.

Little Bug deserves to have a summer filled with endless hours of sandboxes and bikes and laughter.  And I am so grateful that he's going to get the chance to have it.

In Between Doses

It's been over a month since I wrote in this space.

Honestly, I didn't have words.  To blournal the small things seemed wrong when the BIG things were looming.  But the BIG things felt too overwhelming to write about, and frankly, I just didn't want to vent and moan.

But the truth is, that little pill kicks some serious baby butt.  The first few weeks were filled with side effects--horrible, sad side effects that left my sweet boy in physical and emotional pain.  That, in turn, left Appa and I nearly bereft for him.  Once the side effects tapered off, it became apparent the dose was too low, so we had to increase the dose again, restarting the side effects.

Swallow, melt down, repeat.  Swallow, melt down, repeat.

The bad news is that I have a mother's intuition that this dose/particular medication isn't going to be the right fit either.  The good news is I have total faith in our doctor and appreciate the slow and conservative approach to medicating a child off label (due to age).

The best news is that Little Bug is still thriving and continuing to improve his knowledge and capability to help himself.  We've made some big decisions for his education this Fall that we hope will give him his very best shot at making the most of his last pre-K year.  Although we are very much in the present with him right now, we're serious about positioning him for his academic future, and I am excited to start taking advantages of the many unique resources we have available.

As an aside: giving up a master bathroom to get into a really good school district was one of the best decisions I ever made.  Way to go, me 6 years ago!

So, the thing is, I need to move on from this.  Swallow, melt down, repeat is going to continue for a while, and I can't just censor myself anymore while I wallow in the cycle with my baby love. I'm going to make a concerted effort to blournal more about the daily things like I used to.  Maybe I will blournal about Little Bug's new trick of taking his underoos off and peeing on the floor when he gets angry or about Little Bro's daily expository speeches.  Maybe I'll blournal about my baby sister moving the the freaking Philippines for an 18-month mission or how she and I wasted an hour and a half watching possibly the most pointless movie in the whole world simply because Adam Brody was in it (my choice).

And Lee Min Ho is filming a new drama.  Since Appa just bought me the complete Rosetta stone for Korean, I'm now officially on my way to becoming fluent in my children's' birth language.....right?

Or maybe I will blournal about the week we just spent on my Aunt's farm in Michigan.  How Little Bug and Little Bro had smiles mile wide on their faces from morning to night with attitudes to match.  How perfect it was.

And can be.

And is.

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.

11

Dear Little Bro,

Yesterday as you and I laid quietly in your warm bed as you were waking up from nap, we started counting.  You can count to 10 in a million different ways (fast, slow, monster voice, scream, whisper, etc.), but 10 was your cap.

So I told you the next number after 10 was 11.

You rolled the number around on your tongue, tried it out in sing-song and loud variations, and then let it loose with a super fast 12345678910......11!

And just like that, you learned something new.  Something you will never, ever forget. I find that fascinating. One thing I have learned over the past few years is to never take the miracle of learning for granted. So to watch it happen, something so memorable as a number, was neat for me.  It's one of my favorite parts of being a mom, and your zest for learning is so exciting to experience.

Just wait until I let you in on the mind-blowing news about a certain number 12!

He's Got This

The past week or two has sucked for Little Bug and for us.  His behavior hit a low point, and it took a lot out of us all as we tried to crawl back to balance.  Luckily we managed to isolate a couple of the trigger factors and modifying those things helped Little Bug a ton in being able to regulate himself.  That makes me nearly sob with relief because as hard as it is for us to deal with, you can see the frustration and helplessness in his eyes as he loses control. He hates these periods more than any of us.

But I realized today that one of the factors I hadn't considered was definitely at play; a developmental growth spurt.

Little Bug is a plateau-er in his development.  He takes a long time to build up to a new stage in development, and then sits there for a long time until he just leaps up to the next level.  I can imagine that would take a lot of of a little mind and body.

But last week my son could only get the end letters of the ABCs down, could count to 3 and then again from 7-10, and had only a couple songs that he could sing all the way through on his own.  He could focus long enough to match five colored circles to the five colored squares only with significant help/prodding/forcing.  These feats took him a very long time to achieve, and I was so proud of him.

Tonight he can count to 10 confidently without skipping a number, he can sing the entire ABC song by himself without any help (although he hums through some of the hard-to-pronounce letters, but I know it's in his head), he sang not one, not two, but our entire five song bedtime routine on his own without help (including a song in Korean), and his new favorite game is a color matching folder with 12 colored squares that he rocks the lamination off.

Proud?  Appa and I are practically drunk on it.  I'd have him bow, but he is slumbering peacefully and will be for the next 10 hours because he does that again now, too.

The funny thing about parenting a child with developmental special needs is that although I know I am a part of his development, I can't explain why one day he didn't have it and the next day he does.  There is rarely an "ahhh!" moment when it all just clicks for him.  For nearly a year I have spent a portion of nearly every day working on color matching with him, and it usually ends with me privately freaking out that my 4 year old is never going to be able to match colors.  And then one day, poof, he does it no big deal.  Then again, I suppose that is how most kids develop; his longer times between skills just make it seem like he is developing different than other children, when really he isn't.

He's just marching to the drum beat that works best for his mind.  Which, if it was a red drum on a small laminated square, he would now totally match to the large red square. 

No big.  He's got this.  Just like he will get the next skill and the next skill and the next.

I'm lucky, so very lucky, to get to witness this sort of development.  The lows are low when parenting a child with special needs, but holy heck, the highs are high, high, high.

The Evolution of a Number

A little over 3 years ago I sat in a cold therapy clinic with my precious Little Bug and was handed a number that was meant to define him.  And in a lot of ways, it defined both of us for a long time.  That first number really cut deeply, and that experience has always stuck with me as one of the lowest points in my journey as a special needs mama.

Over a year ago I got another number for Little Bug.  There must have been more in between these two, but these are the two numbers that I remember.  Again, it cut deeply.  But unlike the first number, I didn't let it define me as much; in fact, I think it actually spurred me into bigger, bolder action.

Today I clutched my Little Bug's hand as we marched back into that first clinic room for a new number.  I admit, my eyes went immediately to that mat where we first started this number game and I got a bit panicky.  I didn't want my amazing son in this room.  I didn't want this to be the place his development and progress would depend on.  I didn't want to have this woman (who I can't be sure, but very possibly was the same woman who evaluated him 3 years ago) look me in the eye and give me a number meant to define my son.

But if my son has taught me anything over the last 3 years, it's to be brave, suck it up, and jump into the hard stuff with a smile.  So I did.  And he brought me to near tears over and over today as she put him through the physical evaluation because he ROCKED it.  Every skill he had was busted out in fine form and at the end of our eval, I knew no matter what number she gave me, it wouldn't matter.

This kid is a fighter.  And no matter what number she threw at us, the knowledge that he was going to continue to progress and make strides and hit milestones was going to be way more important than the number on his assessment.

For the record, it was 30 months.  Little Bug is 49 months old.

She gave me the number and paused, waiting perhaps for some sort of reaction that she didn't get.

"This isn't anything new to you, is it?"

No.  It isn't.  But unlike the last couple numbers, this one didn't cut deeply.  It stung for a moment, but then rolled right off.  Because this time, the number isn't going to define anything about any of us.  Little Bug has proven that he won't let anything stop him, and I have total faith in him.

I have faith in him.  Something that only recently I have come to see is a huge part of this journey for all of us.

I don't see a child 18 months delayed.  I see a child who battled his way up ladders until it became easy for him.  I see a child who regularly threw up on himself and then with tears in his eyes went back for more sit ups.  I see a child who trips over his own feet a couple times an hour and always, ALWAYS gets right back up and starts running again.  I see a child who wasn't strong enough to grasp a toy in his hand who climbed up a tube slide today before scaling a rock wall.

The number has evolved for me.  It's really no longer relevant.  They can write 30 months on paper and throw it around in meetings all they want, but for Appa and I, it's clear the number game has changed.

Thirty months means nothing to me.  I have a 4 year old, and he is a strong, positive kid who is working hard at reaching his max potential.

Tonight, I am proud.

An Apology to My Little Bug

It's been a lonely couple of weeks for me.

Sometimes being a mom of a kid with special needs, especially behavioral special needs, just plain sucks.  It's stressful, emotionally draining, depressing, and scary, which leads some (me) into periods of isolation as I try to swing our family pendulum back into sync with some serious sleep and diet modifications and a super low-key environment.  Even as I took the boys on a 5-day vacation last week, I felt so off, a mirror to Little Bug's off mood (that was likely a bit of a cycle between the two of us by the end).

And that isolation extended to my writing, which I deliberately avoided, simply because the things I wanted to say were not things I actually wanted to say.

In fact, I just had about seven additional paragraphs to this post detailing my last couple weeks that I just deleted.  Because it wasn't what I wanted to say.

Instead, I want to write about how amazing my Little Bug is and how humbled I am tonight to be his mother.

Little Bug came to us as a sweet, beautiful 10-month-old infant.  He's always been so far behind in development that Appa and I just grew accustomed to parenting him at his delayed age.  He was our first child, and our parenting experience has been entirely built upon ignoring all conventional parenting methods and milestones. What we have given as compassion, acceptance, and avocation have in some instances been nothing more than enabling or selfishness.

That has now been put into blessed clarity for us.

Little Bug is a couple months away from turning 4.  Yet, he has never been formally sleep trained and has been cosleeping in a most unhealthy way since his first birthday.  Why have we never bitten the bullet and kicked this habit?  Oh, that would be because he couldn't be walk, then he couldn't stay in his big boy bed, then he couldn't fall asleep without us, then he needed his sleep and it was easier to put him to sleep in our bed, then we would be going on vacation, then he was getting a new room, then he got a new brother, then then then then then.

All excuses, every one of them.  The real reasons were that Appa and I loved having him cuddle in our bed with us and that we simply didn't have enough faith in him to be able to go to sleep on his own and cognitively follow the rules.

In the last four days, he's almost completely sleep trained.  We still have tears, but they are short.  And most importantly, he understands the expectations and accepts them.  Appa and I are ashamed to think of the YEARS of sleep deprivation we have imposed on our tough son simply because we underestimated him. 

And we started potty training him today, too.  Again, I didn't think this would work, at all.  If anything, I thought Little Bro would potty train and help eventually with Little Bug's training.  After only 4 hours, my son who has never peed on the potty in any intentional way was telling us, over and over during dinnertime, no less, that he needed to go potty.  He kept his big boy pants dry for hours as he motored back and forth to put his business where it needed to be.  (And he started taking the stairs without holding any railings.....another first for this super kid.)

In 3 days, I actually think he'll be potty trained.  Officially.  And it shocks me, to be honest.  Both Appa and I are pretty incredulous.

And we're both a bit humbled and ashamed to have underestimated our son in such huge ways.  In every challenge we've thrown his way, he's breezed through it.  Not even really struggled, but just breezed through it.  He's shown us time and time again that he's up for the challenge.

We just haven't been challenging him like we thought we were.

So although there are still a lot of challenges facing Little Bug that can't be fixed with a modified sleep training program or a 3-day miracle potty training program, there are a lot of little life lessons that Little Bug IS probably ready for.  And that is going to force us to change how we parent him a bit, which includes me cutting out some of our isolation therapy. Which is probably going to make us all happier.

I know every mother thinks this of their child, but I just really feel deeply that there is something special about Little Bug and what his future holds.  Of course I think Little Bro is very special, too, but I feel strongly that Little Bug was given his gifts of a fighting spirit, charming disposition, and joy of life to turn his challenges into something really amazing.  He's going to inspire people in some way, some day; I know it.  I know it.   And someday, when he reads this note from his mother in the midst of all my random musings, I hope he knows that I, more than anyone else in this world, have been blessed beyond measure by him simply being who he is.

45 Minute Glimpse

Today started badly.  Bad sleep, two grumpy kids and one grumpy mom, and no daddy made for a unhappy morning.  I also decided today would be a good day to force some potty training for both kids.  That lasted about 30 minutes.

I was determined to rally and knew the day was going to go up or down based on how I reacted.  A couple silly songs later, I managed to convince both kids to sit at their kiddie table and busted out the craft box.

Usually this activity can net me some decent interaction time with Little Bro, but has never lasted more than 10 minutes with Little Bug.  In fact, sitting still and focusing on anything for longer than a minute or two is so challenging for Little Bug, it is written into his IEP as a goal.  So craft or art time isn't really a go-to activity when Little Bug is home.

But today, with moderate cueing from me as I sat next to him, he participated in scissor work (or rather, scissor practice), markers, stickers, crayons, and playdoh (without even eating any).  He and his brother happily sat and created and played and giggled and focused.

For 45 minutes.

To me, that is a huge accomplishment.  Never have I seen Little Bug sit and focus for that long, and I certainly didn't feel like he was needing more cueing than he would receive with his aide at his developmental preschool.

Bottom line.  It was a huge win for us.

And that has bolstered me all day, especially considering we had a disastrous nap, and he spent his entire $150-an-hour sensory therapy session refusing to get out of a tub of dried beans, and he had not one, but TWO of his new and very disconcerting "car rages."

Because that 45 minutes gave me a glimpse of what I know will one day be able to be our new normals, and that makes fighting through the rest of today a whole lot easier.

My Favorite Scene

There is a scene in the movie "Love Actually" where a young boy, triumphant from fulfilling a deep wish, runs with wild, physical abandon, joy radiating from his face.

Tonight, although not exactly the same style, my little bug had a moment of triumph.

After a day of cousins and carousel and grandmas and french fries, Appa and I decided to toss this whole packing and preparing business out the window and take our son to the park to round out a pretty delightful day.  Little Bug ran and jumped (an emerging skill we find adorable) and screamed with delight.

Then Hannah came along.

Miss Hannah seemed interested in Little Bug right away, and he took to her, too.  The two of them followed each other around, taking turns mimicking the other.  Even though the clock ticked shockingly close to bedtime, Appa and I just stood on the playground with stupid grins on our faces.....because Little Bug has never engaged a child like this on a playground before, even one he knew.  He is still trying to find his confidence and place in the social world of toddlers, and tonight was his coming out party.  He worked that playground like a pro, and Hannah responded with friendly companionship.

Little Bug was so incandescently happy, but we finally had to drag him away.  I was sure he would throw a fit or cry and pout.

But instead he yelled what sounded like victory whoops and he walked proudly ahead of Appa and I, swinging his arms out in a huge motion pretty unusual for him.  He was on top of the world in that moment, and I know it was the high of Hannah's engagement.

If only life had a soundtrack, I think that moment would have warranted a crescendo.

The Triumphant Fries

Two days ago Little Bug got a frowny-face note from school saying that he had a hard day keeping his hands to himself and hit and pulled the hair of a number of his friends.

This used to be a daily, hourly, minute by minute occurrence, but he’s come so far.  Now those notes are rare and worth giving him a stern talking to.  Unfortunately, he’s also in the laugh in your face while you are scolding me phase, which is one of the most trying phases….E.V.E.R.  On the day in question, he met me at the door asking for french fries for dinner. Being that he hadn’t behaved, he certainly wasn’t getting French fries, and I told him so.

Freak out ensued. 

So I tried a new tactic.  Little Bug’s cognitive development isn’t totally caught up yet, so believe it or not, we’ve never used a theoretical reward tactic with him.  Until now.  I figure if he can cognitively and abstractly decide he wants French fries for dinner, he can handle having them dangled in front of him in exchange for good behavior.

I told him that if he was nice and didn’t hit is friends the next day, he could have French fries for dinner the next night.  That certainly didn’t placate him in the moment, but all evening long we talked about how he would get French fries if he was nice.  The next morning we talked about it again, and I even asked his teacher to remind him throughout the day.

And what do you know, he had an AWESOME (his teacher’s caps, not mine) day!  She did remind him throughout the day, and he did seem motivated to be nice.  And when I walked in to pick him up he was all over me about those freaking fries. 

So I’m not sure who enjoyed the triumphant fries more, him eating them or me giving them to him.

Of course, this morning when I reminded him to be nice, he immediately asked “French fries?”

I’m going to need to find a less greasy reward system.

Sometimes I Forget

Sometimes, especially when my little boy is throwing himself on the icy driveway in a fit of despair because he saw a summer bubble maker in our garage that he had.to.have.right.then., I forget just how far he has come.  Actually, I usually forget nowadays.  There's not really a reason for me to view everything he does through the filter of what he couldn't do in the past.

But sometimes, it's nice to remember.  And he deserves the props.

This morning a random memory popped into my head.  Little Bug had been home for a couple weeks and was just shy of 11 months old.  I took him to our local children's hospital for a PT evaluation.   I didn't like the PT, so I am sure that doesn't help paint the memory kindly, but I vividly recall watching my little darling baby lying on his back on a play mat while the therapist tried to get him to raise his arms or legs for a toy.  He couldn't.  He simply was not strong enough to raise his appendages up in the air.  He just laid there in his diaper on the cold mat, whimpering pathetically while my new-mama heart broke and raged against this person, the first person I had encountered who was not on "Team Little Bug."

I knew how far behind he was before I went that day, but I never really broke it down to skills so basic, and yet, so far out of his "reach."  It was a reality check.  A big one.

The young PT rocked back on her heels after a couple minutes, looked me in the eye, and gave me what I can only assume she thought was a "tough love" speech about my expectations for my son.  My 11-month-old son who she was evaluating (fairly, I will grant) to be at a 2-4 month level physically.  And although I recall the pain of that moment, I also recall thinking three things:

1. We're never coming back to this room.
2. If you don't believe in my son, you're out of our lives.  Just like that.
3. We're going to prove her wrong.

I'm not saying that she said he would never progress, but her prognosis that day was a far cry from the 3-year-old who tries valiantly to do the "balance beam" mat at school, who shakes his booty something crazy to Bob Marley, and who is currently perfecting the swan dive as a means of showing displeasure.

A little boy who sings "It's a Small World" in his car seat while vigorously kicking his legs as we drive past that very hospital and I clearly see the window where the therapy balls and mats still sit.

So no, I don't often compare everything my little bug does against the things that used to be hard for him, but sometimes the memories come flooding back unbidden, and when they do, I like to take a second and revel in just how far he has come, how hard he has worked, how amazing he was then, and how amazing he is now.

Even and especially when those kicking legs are driving me nuts.

You Kiss Your Mama With that Mowff?

My son is pretty delayed in his speech, and what he can say is often only intelligible to his nearest and dearest....at least accurately intelligible. But he is in a vocab explosion right now!

Take for example the word "shirt." Little Bug now says "shirt" a lot. He is big into identifying things all over the body, which is AWESOME and not something I will stifle, even in public.

Even though he can't pronounce the "r" sound............

And, as full disclosure, I did happen to do something recently and yelled out "SHOOT."

Little Bug also changes a lot of "oo" sounds to an "i" sound.

Please, no one tell him to "tuck" something.

Ashes, Ashes, We All Fall Down

Last night my son was wired in a great way (as best as a child can be wired at bedtime). He was being silly and happy and seriously enjoying being alive. Normally I attempt to squash bedtime sillies to preserve our calm rainbows/unicorns/soft puppies bedtime routine, but last night I couldn't stand to shut him down. He was too happy, and it was infectious.

Seriously, sometimes you have to screw the sleep training ideas.

As I tried to fit Little Bug into his jammies, he stood up on his bed and started jumping fast and hard while holding my hands. (Again, normally something I don't allow, but our calm zone was already demolished at that point.) He would jump a few times while chanting something and then fall down in a heap of laughter, only to get back up and do it again. It took me a couple goes to realize what he was doing.


Ashes, ashes, we all fall doooooooooown.

My baby was singing. A song that he was pulling the words and tune from memory. Yes, the words were in his own special garble, but they were as fully formed as he could get and very intentional. The tune was spot on.

It was so developmentally appropriate that it made my heart nearly burst.

Little Bug has always loved music. Since the moment he was born, music has been his trigger of joy and peace. I love the fact that he is finally able to participate in the music, not just experience it.

The Cool Kid

Little Bug has taken to choosing an item each morning to bring to school to show his teacher. Usually it's a raggie or his ferret ball, but today it was his train book, a prized possession of his. He proudly walked it the entire way into school, clutching the over sized book with both his hands (not an easy feat even now for my little guy), and showed it to his teacher in the hall, who ohhhed and awwed enough to make Little Bug drunk on joy to be sharing and praised.

We're not supposed to bring toys from home into school because kids fight over them, but I allowed Little Bug to bring the book into his classroom to show his friends. Little Bug is fiercely protective over this book, but he held it out in front of him like something out of the Lion King, proudly showing the book to all his friends. The clustered around him (including the boys who like to exclude Little Bug), and Little Bug sat the book on the table so everyone could see.

God, I wish I had a camera in that moment.

It's a rare sight for me to see Little Bug truly, truly, truly interacting with a larger group of kids in such a positive way for an extended period of time (and I think it happens more often than I think, I just don't get to see it), but there he was, with friends clustered tight around him on other side as he turned the pages of this train book. They all exclaimed over the pictures, pointing and laughing. Little Bug looked up at me and met my eye for just a moment, with the most genuine, happy smile on his face.

For that one moment, he was the.coolest.kid. in that room.

For Good

Little Bug has been having some issues with his behavior (mania) and regularity (enough said) during and ever since our trip, so this weekend we secluded ourselves in the hopes that it was just trip-related issues and not the beginning of a larger illness. The verdict is still out on his illness, but that isn't the point of my entry.

It always seems that the big steps we take in growing Little Bug up happen with very little fanfare. It was yesterday, in the midst of his mania and poop fest, that we decided now would be a good time to give up the crib/toddler bed game.

For good.

What does that have to do with mania and poop? Nothing. I suspect it was mainly a distraction from the weirdness. But the decision was made spur of the moment to just do it, and so we did. Little Bro would most likely never have transitioned well into a crib or toddler bed, and by the time he comes home, he will be close to transitioning into a normal bed, so we just decided to put full/queen beds in both boy's rooms and be done with the crib/toddler bed business all together.

So, within an hour, the little toddler bed with the sweet nursery printed sheets I had lovingly picked out as I yearned for a child was dismantled, the sheets and bedding packed away, and my son had a bed fit for two grown adults.

For good. He could be in this bed until he goes to college.

And Little Bro. My baby who will never be a baby to me. He's going to come home to a nursery and sleeping arrangement that will be more familiar to him, but so different than what I had envisioned.

But it's not about me, or what I think looks best in a nursery or how much I am attached to the little orange crib sheets. Whether I like it or not (and sometimes I do and sometimes I don't), both my sons are growing up. I think when I get overly sentimental I tend to latch on to things, so it was probably best for us to just up and make the change without too much preparation.

And the pride and enjoyment my manic, poop-filled son has with his new bed is way cuter than those orange sheets.

My Mommy Voted for Obama

Little Bug is exploding with language. It's so fun to listen to him explore using words to share his thoughts. As his mama, I think I, better than anyone else in the world, can speak Little Bugese. Many of his words are the same grouping of sounds with just slight differences. We often run into situations where Little Bug tries talk to someone less familiar with his words and I need to act as a translator.

This weekend, I was tempted to just let people go it alone, just for giggles.

Little Bug's newest word is "grandma." He started mimicking it on Friday afternoon with a garbled "abamama," but soon found his groove and settled into a very defined version:

"Obama."

I can honestly see how "grandma" sounds like "obama" to a little child. It's definitely not as big of a stretch as "uhduh" is for "balloon" or "uhzuh" is for "raggie." To us, it was just a really great (and cute) execution of a long word.

To the people at the botanical gardens and the store who watched my son scream "OBAMA" with joy and wail "OBAMA" with sadness (depending on the situation and the crazy mood swings of a 2 year old), it was probably a little surprising to see this small child so passionate about our president.

Don't get me wrong, I'll go on record saying I was *this close* to buying a "Babies for Obama" shirt for Little Bug during the election. He actually owned and wore a shirt to his first voting experience with a donkey on it. A while ago, when I thought it was cute and funny to use kids as billboards for their parents, I would have been all over teaching him to chant "Obama" and busting it out as a party trick.

But I wised up over the last 2 years and realized it doesn't do Little Bug any good to be the vehicle for his mama's causes. He's got about 14-16 years before he needs to start thinking politics.

Anyway....

When people were doing double takes and giving us stink eyes or winks and nods as Little Bug chanted "obama, obama, obama" over and over, I didn't feel amused as much as I felt a little weird. (One woman gave me a scathing look and harrumphed her kids away from Little Bug...) Even though he wasn't actually saying anything political, I felt this urge to scream out

"I'm not stealing my kid's childhood by forcing him to be a political puppet!"

Because the truth is, I'd probably judge someone else a tiny bit, too, no matter how cute it was.

On the other hand, I'm so stoked that Little Bug conquered another word. He's perfected his version of it and has started pairing it with other words to make simple sentences. He's got another word to add to his growing arsenal. To me, it's cute and awesome and worth every ounce of pride I have.

Yes. He. Can.

Macho, Macho Man

A couple days ago Appa and I had the chance to pick Little Bug up from school together. Whenever Appa surprises Little Bug at school he gets *really* excited. Me, I'm no big thang, but Appa....it's like Christmas.

Little Bug was in the potty room when we walked in. The other little kids started chanting "Little Bug's Mommy and Daddy." THAT got his attention. His little head poked up over the swinging door and his eyes lit up.

"DadDDDDDDDDDDa!"

He kept chanting excitedly as his teacher tried to wrangle a diaper on him. He was chattering away to his teacher and would randomly yell "DadDDDa" in joy. Nothing could rain on this kid's joy parade.

Until he got a touch too excited and pushed the swinging door out too fast. In the blink of an eye, he was on his hands and knees as the door swung harmlessly away.

The moment suspended for a second until it became clear nothing had actually happened other than Little Bug clumsily falling as the door opened. He was fine.

He looked up from his hands and knees into the eyes of his friends and his teacher and his mama and dada.

And then he wailed.

His teachers were shocked. I was shocked. Little Bug was busting out his serious, I.AM.INJURED tears and lip quiver and wails. Not because he was hurt; he wasn't.

He was surprised, a little scared, and embarrassed. Emotions that are never fun to feel.

I've been noticing more and more of this lately, a social awareness, a desire not to be the object of laughter unless it is on his terms. It has been fascinating to watch develop. It's also very age appropriate, which is always a huge bonus in our book.

So when the tears dried and the hiccups stopped we gave him a chance to show off some of the new skills he is pretty proud of. He was back to feeling like a king in no time.

My little macho man.

A Freaking Awesome Hyung

Someone very wise reminded me last night, somewhat out of the blue, that less than a year ago Little Bug was still almost 2 months away from even being able to stand up by himself. She reminded me that he's only been walking independently for 9 months.

IN FACT, 8 days from today will be the anniversary of his first step ever.

I've been thinking a lot lately about having two little boys and a part-time gig as a "single mother". I get a little nervous when I think about some of the challenges it will bring, especially with Little Bug's needs.

And then, thanks to someone wise, I remember that we still have a while yet before that time comes. A while that will see all of us growing and changing.

In my heart, I don't believe we'll meet Little Bro in less than 7-8 months from now. I just truly don't see it being possible.

So I look to how much has changed with Little Bug in less than a year and I know the big brother who will welcome Little Bro home in May or June will be leaps and bounds more amazing than he is now.

And he's pretty freaking amazing right now, so I'm thinking I don't have much to worry about on that front.

The Campaign for a Television-Enjoying Child

I think I might be the only parent in the world who is actively trying to teach my kid to watch television.

As part of some therapy, we've been asked to start trying to get Seth to sit still for periods of time. He doesn't have ADHD or anything like that, but after almost 3 years of a constant, almost-every-minute movement therapy-lifestyle, coupled with the fact that he is a toddler, Little Bug has a problem being able to sit and focus for periods of time. Television was suggested as a way to get him comfortable with just being still.

However, Little Bug has never shown a preference for the TV. He has a set of musical DVDs that he will watch religiously, and one 8-minute animated version of "Wheels on the Bus" that we had to hide for fear the DVD would break, but other than those programs and the 3-minute part of the Glee episode where they cover Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance", he's not really interested.

For a long time, that was okay, good even. He was sitting still and listening to music, which is his biggest sensory stimulator.

But he's not learning much.

So it was determined we needed to switch it up and add some shows that have....words...into the mix. We tried all sorts of things, but nothing seemed to stick.

Wiggles...so, so. Thomas the Train....only when the trains are moving and not talking. Everything else...totally not interested. Even the shows that have a high singing:talking ratio.

You're killing me, Little Bug. Stop being such a perfect, anti-TV child, already!

Little Bug's godmother recently bought him the Thomas movie, and we've been trying to add that into our evening once a week or so. The most we have managed is about 3-5 minutes...basically until the trains stop moving and the plot starts.

Last night we had a pretty ominous storm roll through. Ever since an admittedly scary camping storm incident, Little Bug gets very nervous when storm clouds roll in, scared when thunder hits, and petrified when lightning lights up the sky. Little Bug made it clear last night that he was planning on riding this one out from the safety of my lap with my arms locked around him, courtesy of his baby death grip.

I'm only mildly ashamed to admit I used his fear to my advantage.

Knowing he was more likely than normal to stay close to me, I turned on our new movie and hoped for the best.

1.5 hours later, Little Bug was clapping as the credits rolled.

Do I think this means he will sit angelically through a movie whenever I need to turn one on in a pinch? No. Do I recognize that the storm has a huge impact on his choice to sit still? Yes.

But he did stay engaged with the show the whole time, "choo chooing," "ohh ohhing," and clapping in all the right spots.

So I'm declaring a small step forward in our quest to commercialize our son.