Introducing…

Nolan

He’s a week old now and we’re still working on settling into life with three. An ever-changing settling that will be as he grows…

Charlotte and Sarah are very much enamored with their little brother – as are his Mommy and Daddy.

It’s WEIRD having a boy baby after having two girls. He’s a good little guy though (except he likes to be awake at night).

I had a repeat Cesarean and am recovering but not as recovered as I’d like to be. I haaaate feeling this way. I think when you have Cesarean it’s less of a birth story and more of a recovery story.

I have lots of other things to write about: Charlotte starting First Grade, Sarah starting preschool. How they are both doing in general, but especially Charlotte. Her particular ASD quirks are in full force – I can only assume it’s all the change. But truly she’s doing wonderful. Mostly.

Stay tuned for more blogging as I hope to get back at it a little bit. Maybe? Or am I kidding myself?

 

A little anxiety anyone?

First things first, I’m happy to say that this post about anxiety is not about Charlotte, but is, instead, about me. Charlotte has not ever shown us any signs of significant anxiety and for that I am very grateful.

Anxiety is not something I have ever really struggled with. I am the kind of person who, when stressed, just lets it out. (My husband might chime in here that I don’t always do that in the nicest way, but that’s not the point here now, is it?) I don’t let things build up inside me and eat away at my psyche. I vent, I move on.

So it was a completely unexpected and new experience when, in the wee hours of Friday morning, I woke up in a panic. I felt like I couldn’t breathe (or catch my breath) and I couldn’t sit still. I just paced the floors.

I tried laying back down a couple of times, but anxiety in my head would ramp up, along with feeling like I was going to suffocate.

I was so anxious, I had to wake up my husband to come sit with me. The bizarre thing was there was nothing I could pinpoint causing the anxiety. I have had insomnia before that was tied to worrying about something, but I’ve always known exactly what was worrying me. Not so this time.

The pacing, the unidentifiable anxious thoughts, and the breathing thing lasted for about two hours. I lay awake for another 3 hours before I finally slept for maybe, at most, two hours.

Needless to say, Friday was not a good day.  I felt off and emotional all day. The feelings of anxiousness came and went. I had no appetite and had to force down bites of food and liquid. My mother-in-law came to hang out with me just because I felt like I didn’t want to be alone.

I felt better after talking to my mother and sister who both said they have experienced the exact same thing before. However, I decided anyway to call the nurse at my OBs office to describe what happened and see if she had any advice. (I’m 36 weeks now, by the way!!)

Based on my history of NEVER calling to complain about anything, my breathing difficulties and generally feeling off and not well, it was decided I should head down to triage to get myself and the baby thoroughly checked.

Eek!

Don’t panic, she said, we don’t think there’s anything wrong, but we just want to make sure your oxygen levels are fine and that everything checks out okay.

Imagine my surprise when it turns out I was having contractions, my cervix had changed quite a bit in the two days since my last appointment when it was declared long and closed) and, apparently, I was dehydrated. I wasn’t too terribly dehydrated because I really had no symptoms, but my contractions mostly stopped and my general wellness-feeling improved after IV fluids. There was about a 2 hour time period, though, where it was a real possibility that I would be having this baby a few weeks early!

I also had decreased breath sounds in my lower lung lobes (in the back). A chest x-ray showed nothing, so the resident and the OB on-call felt that my shortness of breath (which I have been having a fair amount of, not just that night) were related to the contractions (even Braxton-Hicks ones) putting pressure on my diaphragm. That probably happened while I was sleeping, which woke me up, and for whatever reason, caused the anxiousness. I guess.

The good news is that with all the tests, I am declared very healthy. The baby is doing beautifully and it’s probably a good thing he/she gets to stay in there longer.

The even better news is that I slept wonderfully last night (well despite the backache and neck ache that accompanies sleep and a 36-week pregnant woman). No anxiety or shortness of breath.

And I have a new sensitivity for those many friends I know who regularly deal with panic and anxiety. It was not fun, and I hope I never experience it again.

 

Humor

Each of my two girls is developing quite a sense of humor lately. Very, very different senses of humor from one another, but both hilarious in their own right.

Sarah’s budding humor falls squarely in the silly camp.

She puts her shoes on the wrong feet and says in her sweet, sing-song tone, “Is this riiiiight?” Every single time.

She comes downstairs and sing-songs, “I’m not wearing any underwear.” And just laughs and laughs -even though she is, indeed, wearing underwear. Remember, I said silly, not high-class, humor, friends.

She also likes to call us all funny names. She’ll say to her (balding) dad, “Goodnight, Hair!” (giggle giggle). She calls us all various body parts and just falls over laughing when she does it.

Sometimes she’s funny without even trying. She left her undies on underneath her bathing suit, and when asked why she said, “because they help me toot better.”

All of Sarah’s humor, like I said, seems to fall in the silly camp.

Charlotte’s is different all together. Yes, she can be silly but it’s usually in imitation of Sarah when she is. She doesn’t naturally have that same kind of goofy humor.

But I love her humor.

Just this week I was taking them to camp and we rode the elevator upstairs. When we got in the elevator, Charlotte started dancing around and making funny faces. “What are you doing?” I asked. “I’m playing on the elevator,” she replied, while making herself laugh.

Okay, I thought. Whatever.

It was when I was leaving that I saw the sign posted outside the elevator door.

Please do not play on the elevator.

I love how she was being funny and (seemingly) just for herself.

She did a similar thing at the doctor’s office a few weeks ago when she and Sarah accompanied me to an appointment. There was a sign posted in the lobby that said something along the lines of if you have a fever, cough or any signs of flu, please ask for a mask.

Suddenly Charlotte starts coughing, puts the back of her hand on her forehead, and says, “Oh, I have a fever, I better get a mask.” And up she goes to the receptionist and asks for one. Of course the receptionist couldn’t say no. More fun was had by Charlotte wearing that mask, and making the rest of us wear it too, until it met an untimely demise.

The other humor thing that is going on with Charlotte is how she laughs at what she sees on TV now. She used to watch silly shows but she appeared rather stoic. No laughing. Just intently watching. I’d laugh myself and comment on what was intended to be funny, but she never laughed.

Now, she’s busting a gut regularly at what are truly silly, kid-oriented antics. And what’s neat is how she looks over at Sarah and they laugh together (many of you will know why I see that as note-worthy).

It may not be humor of the highest order, and it may have been a long time coming, but we surely are enjoying the laughs around here.

 

Swimmingly, so far

We are three weeks into the swim season and, so far, things are going, well, you know it’s coming, swimmingly.

Actually, Charlotte is doing amazing. And I don’t just mean in ability. Skill-wise, she’s getting there. Improving all the time. I predict by end of season she’ll be swimming an entire lap (25 meters) unassisted.

But the whole experience is going so darn well. From  understanding of what’s going on, to expressing her feelings about what’s going on – she’s so there. I’m not entirely thrilled with just how she’s expressing those feelings (think whining and crying), but it’s what she’s whining and crying about that is such a developmental step for her.

For example, her age group (6 and unders) do two events – freestyle and backstroke. Charlotte is not quite ready for backstroke. She needs to be able to swim the whole length of the pool without support before she will be ready for backstroke.

The first meet she participated in was a “fun meet” – just our team and it’s basically a kick-off for the meet season. And it gives the younger, new kids a feel for what a meet is like.

When she realized she was done after one event (25 meter freestyle), she cried (and cried) that she didn’t get to do backstroke. I didn’t think she’d even realize that backstroke was something she was missing out on.

For so long Charlotte has seemed a little clueless about what’s going on in her surroundings. Possibly what is more accurate is that she hasn’t communicated her awareness. Or that she hasn’t particularly cared. I’m not really sure.

She cares now, though. She realized today, at the first real meet against another swim team, that each week the coaches name three ‘swimmers of the week.’ This is the 2nd time that swimmers of the week have been named. They get applause and a t-shirt. Charlotte was very upset that she didn’t get a t-shirt and that she wasn’t swimmer of the week.

In typical Charlotte fashion, though, she chose to cry about this to express her disappointment. And not just a few sad tears, but a big, wailing, attention-garnering cry.

At some point we’ll work on that, but for now I’m just impressed and pleased to see her being so in tune with the swim team happenings. She has realized there are winners and losers, she’s suddenly aware that she needs to swim faster to win. It’s almost like she’s getting a little competitive -something I have never, ever seen in her.

(For the record, this awareness and in-tune-ness with what’s happening around her is not limited to swimming. It’s happening all the time. Every day. She’s just so there. Quite a developmental spike she’s having undoubtedly.)

I’m pretty happy with our club, too. They seem to focus and only care that she is progressing. I was tickled (as was she) to find out that she can use a noodle for support. It’s quite common, apparently, that it can take some kids awhile to get across the pool without stopping and/or without assistance. At practices, she has never made it the length of the pool without stopping at the wall for moment.

Yet, at both meets she made it all the way without stopping. That is huge!

Overall, I am very happy with how things are going. I hope that the next five weeks of practices and meets continues to be met with enthusiasm.

Notice that I’m not mentioning or even concerned (or sad) that she’s not really bonding with any of the girls and running around giggling and chatting it up as many of them are doing. One thing at a time, one thing at a time.

 

Wiggly bums

It started with Sarah.

She is obsessed with all things bum-related.

Especially the wiggly bum. Even more especially: the naked wiggly bum. Nary a day goes by that we are not treated to a little wiggle wiggle of her bum.

Charlotte has joined in the bum fascination. Her creative execution of choice is rewriting songs or rescripting movies substituting bum where (somewhat) appropriate.

Twinkle twinkle little bum…

One little bum jumping on the bed…

It’s gonna be a bum night…

Add into the bum fascination an interest in all things stink.

An oft-heard refrain is I’m gonna put the stink on you. I promise they made this up themselves. The parents here are not wantonly putting the stink on anyone.

I’ve taken to calling them Stink 1 and Stink 2.

The five-and-under crowd sets a low bar for humor.

The wiggly bum in action

 

Slumber parties

I’m not sure exactly when, or how, it all started.

I think it was a few months ago when Charlotte, who rarely asks for anything, wanted to have a slumber party with me in my room.

It was Thursday, so I suggested we do it the next night and, thus, Friday Night Slumber Party was born.

Except, of course, they try to make it Saturday night slumber party, too. And Tuesday night. And so on.

It has been hard to say no to the frequent requests for slumber parties, but I have to be firm or they will completely take over my bed.

The slumber party has been awesome currency. Especially for Charlotte. Sarah doesn’t seem to care either way. She gets all whiny when we’re in my queen-sized bed worried that she’s going to roll off the side. So she scoots about 6″ in from her edge, which forces Charlotte and I to cram ourselves into unnaturally small sleeping spaces. A small price to pay for a slumber party.

With Charlotte, though, I can curb any number of ridiculous tantrums or other unpleasantries with a threat to cancel Friday Night Slumber Party. Magic (for now).

The slumber party seems to be part of a larger trend of needing extreme amounts of Mommy. Daddy (“the boy”) has become an outcast in the home, and Mommy is by far the leading character.

At first I thought it was just a random swing in the moods of two fickle girls. But something else has emerged, and I’m suspecting that all this Mommy-craving has to do with me having a new baby in my belly.

A few weeks ago Sarah, who is extremely resistant to giving up her pull-ups despite having all the skills to use the potty, told me that if she quit wearing pull-ups then she wouldn’t be my baby anymore.

Gulp!

I assured her that she would be my baby still and we talked about other things that made her still my baby. That helped because she gave up the pullups and has been successfully using the potty since then (knockonwood!).

Charlotte, on the other hand, began wanting to wear Sarah’s pajamas. With Sarah’s permission, she would squeeze her 6x self into a 3T pair of pajamas and be happy as a clam.

Occasionally she asks me to feed her like a baby, hold her like a baby on the couch, carry her around (which I just can’t do), and do other baby things for her.

Thursday night I came home to find her in bed in a newborn-sized sleeping gown she must have found stashed with some other newborn clothes that a friend had given me. I can’t believe she fit into it, but there she was wearing it like a (tight) t-shirt.

She and Sarah both often want to hear the stories of when they were born. They want to look at their baby pictures on the computer (poor Sarah -I have printed so few of hers and none are in albums).

And all of this has to be done with Mommy. Daddy is truly on the outs. Only I can them both to bed each night, together, in one of their rooms.

Does this sound like a reaction to me being pregnant?

We’ve talked a little bit about what life will be like when the new baby comes. We have a couple of books, but they are mostly about the pregnancy part, not life afterwards.

I’m worried I’m not adequately preparing them for the reality of when the baby comes home. Hell, I’m worried *I’m* not prepared for that reality either.

Meanwhile, I admit I’m enjoying the slumber parties. It is nice cuddling with them and getting a chance to chat a little bit (before we have to dive into Scooby stories per Charlotte’s perseveration directive).

Now, if only our bed was king-sized.

 

Sisters

My two cherubs have upped the ante on sibling rivalry lately.

Oh, the fighting. It’s enough to put an already frazzled mom over the edge. There have been mornings where I can’t let them play unsupervised for even five minutes before I hear screams and whimpers and the occasional thwack.

Unfortunately, the fights are often abruptly halted when Sarah runs in crying that Charlotte bit or pinched her. Now, I’m not the least bit happy about that, not the least bit. But I have observed Charlotte do everything in her power to get away from Sarah before resorting to physical means.

I’ve also seen her go for the physical rather quickly, too. It’s not easy for me to give a clear cut statement of when it will happen, other than to say that Charlotte is always provoked. Always.

This business of parenting is tough. Sarah, to me, is acting like an attention-seeking 3 year old, and she does things specifically to goad her sister. This is what little sisters do. Especially toddlers. I do my best to reinforce that it’s not nice, it’s not how we treat each other, but part of me feels that age is what will move us out of this phase (at least the physical part of it, I think the fighting may go on awhile).

We had a breakthrough recently when, rather than just separate them for 5 or 10 minutes, I forced them apart for longer. I had Sarah gather up some toys and move to the family room. Just about the whole time they were separated they either called out to each other, or asked me if they could play together. I maintained they had to stay separated because they weren’t playing nicely.

After about 45 minutes Sarah came to me and said, “Mommy, can I please go play with Charlotte now.” I assented and the rest of the day was smooth sailing. Actually, and I’m whisper-typing this, it’s been much better ever since.

Despite the fighting and the goading, there is much, much camaraderie between them. The vast majority of their time together (most days) is spent playing nicely. Sharing and taking turns.

They have a huge assortment of characters and they love to put on shows with their characters and engage them in parties, dances, breakfasts and the like. It’s been exciting to watch Charlotte create her own storylines for her characters, rather than lifting them from a book or show.

They seem to have each others back at times too. When I declare that everyone needs to get their shoes on NOW or we will not be going [to wherever] Charlotte will run and find Sarah’s shoes and help her into them. Conversely, when I threaten to put a set of toys in timeout unless they are cleaned up NOW, Sarah will hoppity to and clean everything up (which Charlotte is more than glad to let her do – boy does that bring back memories of how my older sister tricked me when we were kids).

This period does not feel like the easiest of times in our little house. I imagine that sibling fighting is not unique to us and that we’ll get through it. Eventually. (I hope.)

Just like everything else, this too shall pass.

 

Checking in

Where, oh where, has goodfountain been?

Numerous times these past few weeks I have wanted to write but, oh, the tiredness. Oh, the frustrations. Oh, the chaos that seems to have become my life. And, oh, the tiredness (I mentioned that one already though).

Here, now, let me attempt a feeble catch up at all the goings on.

First up, we took a week-long vacation to Florida which included two spectacular days at Magic Kingdom.

Spectacular.

Florida was a wee bit chilly when we got there, and a lot rainy when we left, but those two days at Disney… perfect. Mid 70s and not a cloud in the sky.

The cutest little "Jasmine" and "Cinderella" ever.

I can’t tell you how great the trip was, and how great Disney World is. It’s something you just have to experience. And don’t let things like Autism or special diets stand in your way. We simply asked for, and received, a magic little card that allowed us to move to the front of the line at every attraction. Magic.

And here’s the thing on that: I didn’t think we’d need it. I thought Charlotte would be fine at Disney World. It was tough on her, but she did great, and she had a fabulous time. Fab-u-lous!

And they accommodate special dietary needs like you wouldn’t believe. Charlotte even had gluten-free Mickey Mouse shaped waffles. She was one happy girl food-wise.

Sarah had the time of her life too. She was so enamored of meeting Cinderella, especially when they were wearing matching dresses. Her face lit up like the Fourth of July.

I could go on and on about the Magic Kingdom. It was a wonderful time.

But there’s more.

I turned 39 a few days ago. My husband made a delicious shrimp scampi dinner and Charlotte and Sarah baked a cake. When asked what she wanted to get me for my birthday, Charlotte repeatedly said she wanted to bake me a cake. She told me I could be her helper and put it in the oven. She and Sarah pretty much did everything else. Best cake ever.

I’m 4 months pregnant. (“Caddywampus!!”)

Apparently I passed a kidney stone this past week. I don’t recommend it. That, my friends, is some serious pain.

And seriously frightening when you’re pregnant and don’t know what in the heck is causing that pain.

Remember the tiredness? I thought it was because I’m pregnant, and even though I never felt *this* tired before, I chalked it up to being older (eek!) than the last time. Turns out I’ve probably been dealing with low blood sugar for the last 2 months. Now that I’ve upped my calories and am making sure to get protein in, I feel a thousand times better.

That lightbulb for me turned into a big a-ha for my kiddos, Charlotte especially, and I suspect some of Charlotte’s mood swings have been due to low blood sugar. For the past two days I’m being extra diligent on her diet (how often she eats) and it does seem to have helped some. Today has been marvelous so far.

I’m doing something for myself for a change! I’m taking a writing-type class called Coming Home to Self. The class is facilitated by a writer and a Life Coach and the focus, for me, is on becoming my authentic self. One of the requirement of the class is that every week you take 2 hours to yourself just to rejuvenate and feed your soul. That’s the kind of homework I can live with.

On that note, I’m going to dash out for my birthday pedicure and spend an hour having my feet pampered.

Happy Spring everyone!

 

Good times lately

This past week, Charlotte was the Star Student of the week. It proved to be a great opportunity for my girl to shine.

She we made a poster all about her family and her favorite things (swimming, cookies and Scooby and the gang).

She brought the class stuffed giraffe home for the week and named it (Lisa) and we took pictures of her playing with Lisa and put them in the Star Student Journal. Lisa had a pretty good time at the goodfountains!

Thursday, she took in her favorite book and read it to the class. Her current favorite book is one Sarah got this past Christmas. It is really cute.

Apparently, she was really excited about reading to the class and did a fantastic job. Her special ed teacher wrote in the communication notebook:

She read it with such expression, in all the right parts, and truly had the class captivated. They really enjoyed the story and several told her how well she reads.

It makes me so happy when I read about her doing wonderfully.

***

Another recent happy time was when Charlotte and I went roller skating with the Girl Scouts.

The pulsating beat of the music could be heard as we were walking outside along the building. Uh-oh.

“Charlotte,” I said, “it’s going to be really loud in there, are you going to be okay with the loud music.”

“No,” she responded.

I asked if she still wanted to go inside and roller skate and she did. So in we went. She donned her bike helmet (hey, safety first with my girl), let me put roller skates on her, promptly stood up … and fell right down.

It was the first of many falls. She didn’t give up though. A kind troop leader (who we didn’t know at all) took Charlotte’s other hand as I was supporting her around the rink and, between the two of us, Charlotte figured out how to take small steps and keep her feet underneath herself.

In no time she was skating -really slowly- but she was skating on her own. And falling down. A lot. That night before bed she told me her bum was too sore for her sit on the potty.

The aide who works in her classroom has 12ish year old daughter who is a Girl Scout and they were both at the skating party.

E offered to take Charlotte out skating for a bit with her friends. Charlotte was thrilled as she had just been telling me that she just wants to skate like a big girl.

While they were out there, it was time for the Chicken Dance.

Charlotte did not take her eyes off of E, so determined was she to get it down.

At the end of evening she said what a great time she had and that she can’t wait to go roller skating again.

 

Overcoming challenges

I have probably mentioned  a time or two on here that things have been a little bit difficult at home with Charlotte.

Well, with Sarah, too, but her challenging behavior seems to be falling in the category of “I’m three, and I don’t need your help, Mom.” Oh the tantrums. Happily, and I’m feverishly knocking on wood as I write this, she is responding well to my experiment of spending a bit more time exclusively focused on her. When I let that slide, it shows.

Charlotte’s behavior has been different than that. With her I was seeing more aggression (albeit, only when provoked by Sarah, but still she must learn a more acceptable way to react). Also less language, lots of resisting everything. It was seeming like she was just off in her own world.

With Charlotte, however, other things go along with the behaviors. In addition to a slow down in removing waste matter from her body, she developed a very bizarre redness and rash on her face which then spread over her entire body.

At first, I thought she had Fifth’s Disease, but the rash on her body didn’t match. It was the same rash, normally just on her belly, that she has been dealing with on and off for going on three years now.

It’s an itchy, red, bumpy rash. We saw a massive decrease, although not total elimination, when we removed dairy from her diet. This time it did not confine itself to her torso, but moved down her legs and arms. A hydrocortisone treatment would take care of it, but it would just appear elsewhere the next day.

She also began to complain of headaches at night. She wanted to fall asleep with me putting pressure on her head. Combine headache, itchy skin, and the other problem, and she was not a happy girl.

Frankly, I would be miserable too.

I began to feel desperate to help her. Clearly there was something going on, and no amount of social stories, positive reinforcement, or the making of plans was going to solve it.

I began to wonder if she was having a yeast problem. In the biomedical world, yeast is right up there at the top of the list of things that ASD kids deal with. She  had a classic physical symptom of it (that I won’t describe here) as well as the others mentioned.

We began giving her a broad spectrum probiotic and began an intensive prune juice  regimen. (I don’t know why the medical profession always goes straight to meds when good old prune juice does the job just fine.)

We also just began a homeopathic treatment of Oil of Oregano (mixed with body oil and rubbed on her feet at night). My husband is also doing the Oil of Oregano. Any homeopathic we give her, one of us will also partake.

The hope was that if there’s yeast overgrowth, the probiotic will get to work on that. And that the prune juice would have the desired effect of just making her feel better.

It’s been 11 days of probiotics and her skin is beautiful. Smooth, soft and white (as opposed to red). She’s on a better (albeit not great) other schedule too. (Am I being coy enough?)

And my sweet Charlotte is back. The communication is a thousand times better. The eye contact is right where she’d left it. She’s even managing the aggression toward her sister-who-provokes better. I can actually witness her stopping herself from biting. It’s a beautiful thing.

She’s just so much easier to get along with. Yesterday she and I spent 4 hours shopping, hitting a handful of stores. While it wasn’t perfect (what is?) and we had to work through a few challenges (one of which involved her having to ask the manager of a retail store if that store was the first store while I mouthed “just say yes”) we had a great day.

We hadn’t had a great day in a long time it felt like.

This is where the communication challenges of autism really get to me. She has a very difficult time, it would seem, telling me when she’s feeling bad. I hypothesize that she started feeling bad, physically, before the rash and other symptoms. She is not one to initiate conversations like that. And I don’t want to grill her on a daily basis about how she feels (she’ll always say she feels “just fine” anyway).

I pray for the time in her life when she can recognize what is happening internally, physically, and can take steps to stop it before it gets completely overwhelming.